When my younger son visited the doctor for his potential tick-born illness, he had to have blood drawn. (The result were negative, but they want to do a redo in six weeks.) He sat on my lap for the procedure, and when it came time for the needle stick, he simply looked the other way. Not once did he move, not a flinch nor a whimper.

Afterwards, the nurses told me that they have a lot of kids come through there but they rarely see that sort of complete compliance and calm. They were impressed, they said.

I was tempted to feel proud, to think my son’s behavior was because of something I had done, such as explained everything to him in detail, or acted matter-of-fact, or cuddled him on my lap while oozing lots of my exceptionally potent motherly charm.

But then I remembered my other child. You know, the one who kicks doctors. The one who didn’t get her teeth cleaned until she was seven years old because she refused to open her mouth. The one who cries and screams in rage, not only when a doctor’s appointment looms in the near (or distant) future, but also when we have to stop by the pharmacy for her meds.

I’m that child’s mother, too.

So instead of getting all I’m-such-an-awesome-mom-yay-me happy, I chuckled (but just inside, somewhere behind my sternum—you know the place), stomped down my pride puffs, and settled for basking in feelings of extreme gratefulness for the perspective-enhancing experience.

This same time, years previous: a birthday party, shrimp with coconut milk, the sex talk, alfredo sauce

The other night I went to a potluck. I took a double batch of blueberry coffee cake and this salad.

I came home with two scraped-clean dishes. Win!

This salad is one of my new favorite ways to serve beets.

I toss a flurry of cumin seeds around in a cast iron skillet until they are fragrant and golden. With my mortar and pestle, I halfway pulverize them—I want both powder and cracked seeds, for the texture and eye appeal.

I whisk the cumin into a dressing with lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper and toss it with the still-slighty-warm-from-the-oven beets.

I blanket the beets with a generous handful of minced fresh mint, and voilá, a yummy salad is born. And promptly devoured. (But I already covered that part of the story.)

I feel like I’m scoring all over the place with good beet recipes this summer. There’s the cilantro beet salad, the roasted carrot and beet salad with avocado, and now this salad. In years past there was this classic beet salad with feta and caramelized onions, and even a chocolate beet cake.

What are your favorite ways to cook beets? Do you have some great recipes that I simply must be enlightened with?

I have a long row of beets growing pretty and fat out in the garden, so I’ll need all the creative pointers I can get.

Roasted Beet Salad with Cumin and Mint
Adapted from the 2007 issue of Gourmet magazine (via epicurious)

3 medium beets (about 1 1/4 pounds), roasted
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
½ teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/3 cup fresh mint, finely chopped

Peel and thinly slice the still-slightly-warm beets

Toast the cumin seeds in a skilled over medium-high heat, stirring constantly, until a couple shades darker brown and fragrant. Grind in a mortar and pestle—you want a fine powder but with a few cracked seeds remaining. 

In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, olive oil, salt, pepper, and cumin. Pour over the beets and toss to coat. Immediately before serving, garnish with the mint.

This same time, years previous: bacon-wrapped breadsticks, zucchini parmesan frittata, coconut oil-popped popcorn, chit-chat

This same time, years previous: zucchini pasta salad, peas with prosciutto, Jeni’s best ever vanilla ice cream, preserving stone fruits, pasta with roasted tomatoes and summer squash, cooked oatmeal, red beet salad with caramelized onions and feta