Sometimes weird combinations work.
There was this one time when I was little that my sister really liked salami. So I decided I was going to like salami since my sister liked salami since I wanted to be exactly. like. her. Regardless of how annoying it was to have a girl two years your junior following you around everywhere the majority of your life, I like to think we bonded a little bit over salami. Since we were deprived children and our mother worked from home (horrible I tell you), we were allowed to use the microwave since she was home (and when she wasn’t — but somehow that needed to fit in the story).
So anyways, my sister had this love for salami. I pretended to have a love for salami. My sister really loved cheese. I pretended to have a love for cheese.
You have no idea where this is going.
I do though — just hang tight.
My sister would take a paper plate, coat it with salami, and layer cheese over every single slice of salami. I, naturally, would have to do the same with the hopes and dreams that she would notice that I was in fact, the coolest 8 year old known to man and that she should let me borrow her really awesome leggings with the stirrups on them. No, this was not last week.
Aaaand into the microwave went those pieces of salami and cheese. For at least a minute. Because there’s nothing like the scent of burning salami and cheese in the summertime heat.
My poor vegetarian mother — not to mention her poor daughter who would become a vegetarian 14 years later.
Out of the microwave would come these gooey bubbly pieces of burnt cheese that you would have to tear off the plate in order to eat them. You got extra brownie points if you could do it without burning the bajeesus out of your fingers. You got even more points for pretending you actually liked to eat what you were eating so your sister would like you.
And then I grew up and decided that was the most disgusting thing I had ever concocted in my life.
But that, of course, is where the weird food started. I love salty and sweet. I put ketchup on everything (so sue me!). I even went through a ranch dipping phase. A cream cheese phase.
And now I put apples and beans and beets together and call it a day.
Oh, and parsley?
Yeah, weird.
The weirdest part? It tastes delicious — and the Husband cleaned his bowl (x2).
Autumn Salad with Chickpeas, Apples, and Golden Beets
Serves: 4 side dishes or 2 main dishes
Difficulty: Easy
Ready In: 1 hour
- 1 cup long grain brown rice, dry
- 1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
- 1 apple (any variety)
- 2 golden beets, cooked
- 1/4 onion, diced
- 1 clove garlic, minced
- 2 cups water
- 2 tbsp. olive oil, divided
- 2 tbsp. balsamic vinegar
- 1 tbsp. maple syrup
- 2 tbsp. fresh parsley
- salt and pepper to taste
Directions: Start by preheating your oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. While the oven is preheating, peel your beets (or not — I did it for vanity purposes), wrap in foil, and pop in the oven for 45 minutes or until tender.
While the beets are cooking, heat 1 tbsp. olive oil over medium high heat and add your diced onion and garlic. Stir frequently to avoid burning. Once your onion and garlic are fragrant and translucent (~5 minutes), add your 1 cup dry rice, two cups water, and bring to a boil. Cover, lower heat to a simmer, and cook according to package directions (mine was about 45 minutes).
When your beets are done cooking, slice or chop the beets to your liking and set aside. Next, core and chop your apple into bite sized pieces. Add the beets and apple to the cooked rice along with the drained chickpeas. Stir until all ingredients are combined. Add the other tbsp. of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, maple syrup, parsley, and salt/pepper to taste. Enjoy right away warm or allow the flavors to marinate overnight and enjoy warm/cold.
In case you’re wondering, my sister eventually decided to love me, but only after I was not allowed to talk to her at all during sixth grade whenever we passed each other in the hallway.
And you’ll love this salad. And so will your family on Thanksgiving. And if your sister still doesn’t love you, make her this salad. That will change.
Fact.
{ 53 comments… read them below or add one }
{ 1 trackback }