Maybe fifteen years ago, we were invited to a lake in New Hampshire. That’s where I think it was, anyway. It’s been a long time and I have unfortunately and regrettably lost all contact with the people who invited us. It was somewhere close to the Canadian border and as far north as I have ever been while remaining in the U.S. It was very hot in the day and quite chilly at night. Being from the south, this was a new phenomenon to me.

    It was old family sort of place in that the only people who owned land around the lake had been in some way connected by family or money. The lake was so cold that I couldn’t swim in at all. Our hostess, being a very tough woman, swam the length and breadth while I sank, rock like and had to hitch a ride behind the canoe to get across the water. It is the only time in my life that  I thought I might drown. I simply couldn’t stay afloat.

    The water was so pure and mineral free that in the days of steam locomotives this water was carried around in tanker cars to be used like today’s NASCAR fuel. It had no detrimental effect on locomotive boilers. (That’s what they told me. I was a guest and who was I to question the assertion)

    There had been good fishing on the lake at some point judging by all the big fish mounted on the various walls. There didn’t seem to be any fish in the lake at all when we were there and the word was that the water had become too acidic from acid rain that fell all around the place. So the water was cold as ice, clear as glass and practically sterile.

    The first night we were there was the last night of the season that the patriarch was in residence. He left the next day, but because he was there that night, the place was all staffed up with cooks and housekeepers. When he left the next day, so did the staff and we did our own cooking for the remainder of the week, I don’t remember what we fed ourselves, but I vividly remember the first night feed as it was something I had never encountered before, but which I prepare to this today.

    There was a grand pork roast and I have made myself well known on the pork front. There were home baked breads that were marvelous, but the dish that took me by surprise was the beet greens. The beets themselves were essentially Harvard Beets, just like you find them in the Joy of Cooking. Along side of the beets were the beet greens, cooked spinach like with their chopped stems adding color and texture.

    I cook beet greens whenever I get them and have been known to scavenge the greens that customers have the vendors tear off at the farmer’s markets.

    Here’s what I do. I sauté’ them in butter or a little oil with some chopped onion and maybe a little garlic. When they are good and wilted, I add the par-boiled stems (chopped in 1” lengths) some chicken stock and let them cook for a bit until they are tender. When done, I cook off the remaining liquid and add a tablespoon or two of cold butter and stir it around, off the heat, until it melts.

    Tonight’s experiment will include the greens from radishes along with the beet greens. These greens taste peppery in their raw state and I am excited to see how they cook up with the less assertive beet greens.

    Anyway, when you get fresh vegetables with greens attached, try eating them. Often they’re really good…. Not carrot greens, they were nothing to get excited about – so much so that I don’t remember what they tasted like – just the resolution to not bother with them again.