My husband despises beets so I don’t make them very often.

The other night, I decided I was long overdue for a delicious beet salad with a tart balsamic vinaigrette, and crumbled goats cheese.

It has been almost two years since the incident, just enough time to get the smell of burnt stock pot out of my kitchen and heal old wounds.

I’m not sure what possessed me to make beets the day we sealed our kitchen porcelain tile backsplash. I guess it was something I could leave on the stove and forget about, or so I thought.

I washed the beets, placed them in the pot, boiled the water while Greg made comments like, “dirty rotten beets,” “we don’t HAVE to eat them do we?” “I only like them pickled” “did I ever tell you that beets are the only food I hate?” etc. etc. etc.

We got busy with the smelly sealant and I realized I had neglected the beets and boiled the pot dry, burning the base and causing an odour rivalling that of the chemicals we were smearing around our walls.

Second coat of sealant, round two boiled beets.

I was careful this time with a new pot, boiling the same beets for a second time. Any recipe that claims boiling for 20 minutes will soften beets is a bold faced lie but there is a grey area that if you miss your opportunity, the beets go back to being rock hard, harder than before they were ever cooked and this can take several hours to fix.

The burner on low, we made our way around the kitchen and finally stood back, admiring our invisible work.

The beets puttered away on the stove, Greg began cleaning up our sealant mess and I looked to the freezer for a meaty inspiration to accompany my earthy, vegetable feast.

Finally soft, I placed the beets in a large bowl in the sink under freezing cold water so as to easily remove the skins. This has taken forever but will be worth it when my savoury salad is served.

I never got to eat my savoury salad, my delicious beets, crumbled goats cheese or tart, vinaigrette. I didn’t get to eat them because I watched as my husband (who claims absolute ignorance)approached the kitchen sink with his sponge full of chemical infused sealant, held it high and squeezed every saturated drop onto my bowl of beets.

Luckily we were both exhausted and were able to laugh. He apologized profusely and I served him the sealed beets with a side order of rolled up dirty diaper.