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Overloading the Machine

Beet Soup

Serves 8.

8 medium beets
2 turnips, peeled
1 potato
2 carrots
2 cups shredded cabbage
2 cups chopped onion
2 tablespoons margarine or butter
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
2 to 3 quarts stock or water
1 teaspoon dried dill, or 2 tablespoons fresh
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1 tablespoon honey
1 cup tomato puree
1/2 cup orange juice
1/4 teaspoon paprika
salt, to taste
sour cream or fresh dill sprigs, for garnish

SCRUB THE beets, trim the ends, and grate. Chop or slice the turnips, potato, and carrots. Beets can be messy to prepare, so grate them last (and don't wear white!). In a large stockpot, saute the onion in margarine or butter for a few minutes, then add the caraway and the rest of the vegetables. Add the stock and the remaining ingredients. If you use fresh dill, add it at the end. Cover and simmer for 40 to 45 minutes, testing occasionally for doneness. Once cooked, you can puree this soup in a blender or food processor for a more delicate texture. Serve hot, garnished with a dollop of sour cream or a sprig of dill. Serves 8.

We were young and our happiness dazzled us with its strength. But there was also a terrible betrayal that lay within me like a Merle Haggard song at a French restaurant. [...] I could not tell the girl about the woman of the tollway, of her milk white BMW and her Jordache smile. There had been a fight. I had punched her boyfriend, who fought the mechanical bulls. Everyone told him, "You ride the bull, senor. You do not fight it." But he was lean and tough like a bad rib-eye and he fought the bull. And then he fought me. And when we finished there were no winners, just men doing what men must do. [...] "Stop the car," the girl said. There was a look of terrible sadness in her eyes. She knew about the woman of the tollway. I knew not how. I started to speak, but she raised an arm and spoke with a quiet and peace I will never forget. "I do not ask for whom's the tollway belle," she said, "the tollway belle's for thee." The next morning our youth was a memory, and our happiness was a lie. Life is like a bad margarita with good tequila, I thought as I poured whiskey onto my granola and faced a new day.

-- Peter Applebome, International Imitation Hemingway Competition

This page was last modified on 2011 December 20.