So I don’t know about anyone else’s Facebook filter bubble situation, but I tend to get a lot of friends posting in clumps about the same kinds of issues, topical events, dumb memes, and cultural or culinary pursuits (On the evening of December 24, Facebook informed me that 37 of my friends had posted about “Jews and Chinese Food”). I learn more about weather patterns by checking my newsfeed than I do by looking outside, and the direction of my moral-cultural compass has become largely based on whatever latest semi-soggy issue is being shot through the web-waves. Whether I thought I gave a honk, or not. Case in point: the great (wild) Canada Goose chase.

Somewhere around the middle of last week, my Facebook newsfeed got lit up with a graphic photo (go graphic or go home) of a steaming pile of some kind of dead animal, and the accompanying variation-on-a-theme caption to the tune of, “Please share! Are Canada Goose jackets really worth this? This is sickening! Boycott! Please share! Re-post!” The implication was that in order to meet the high demand for the popular and inexplicably abhorred-by-many Canada Goose winter jackets, many unidentifiable animals had to die. Facebook propagandists everywhere greased up their pointer fingers and shared around this picture and its desperate plea. Rather than re-post in a fit of momentary animal rights crusadership, I instead congratulated myself on my remarkably inoffensive choice of winter jacket, and rolled my algorithmic eyes.

Then, lo! As is wont to happen when irresponsible people get their hands on the Internet with no regard for fact-checking or reverse image searching, it was soon discovered by marginally more responsible people that the picture posted as proof of Canada Goose evils (and fodder for animal rights activists) was actually taken by award-winning Russian photojournalist, Sergey Maximishin. The photo, taken on the “Pioneer” fur farm in Leningradskaya region, Russia in 2004 has about as much to do with Canada Goose jacket manufacturing as this food blog entry has to do with what I made for dinner last night. Poor Sergey.

The point is, Facebook has made us all the kings and queens of our own brand of “Slacktivism,” where simply hitting “share” is akin to getting up and doing something or going out and protesting anything. Truthfully, I don’t want to get onto any kind of moralizing high horse and tell people where to put it when it comes to how they go about externally constructing their supposedly liberal-minded (or otherwise) lives. And when it comes to the posting and re-posting of news and journal articles, I’m entirely in support of the Facebook-facilitated ease of information dissemination. But I must admit a certain satisfaction when the slacktivist’s catch-all trigger finger is forced to pause in mid-air.

One place where misinformation does not run as rampant and the closest thing to slacktivism is just being a vegan, is in the food blogosphere (if you can believe it). Sure, some would say that simply blogging equals activism. Especially if you’re blogging about the evils of ‘agricultural’ company Monsanto or writing diatribes about farm workers’ rights. And others, like Morgan Spurlock, executive producer and star of Super Size Me, will tell you that food bloggers aren’t activist enough, and should get off the computer and out into the fray. I think that for myself – at least for now – it’s best to stay inside, write strongly worded food column entries loosely based on actual dishes and personal opinion, and call myself a cooktivist.

Whew. Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, on to this week’s installment of Sal(i)vation. Man, I am really straying here. I hope I haven’t lost anyone on the journey through my scattered opinions. Since there’s no natural way to connect the Canada Goose mix-up to the dish I’m about to describe, I’ll just launch right ahead. Ready? Good!

Through my guilty perusal of Internet food porn, I’ve noticed that on other food blogs, people tend to make dishes according to whatever weather patterns they and their climate-comrades are currently experiencing. Of course, this is a choice both stylistic and practical: seasonal themes go with food blogs the same way ingredients of complementary colours always taste better together, and in cold weather we like warm stuff, while in warm weather we like cold stuff. Or at least that’s what we’ve been conditioned to think by the marketing team behind Martha Stewart. The truth is, in the hottest climates, eating hot food is the norm (think India), because as anybody who knows science-ism will tell you, the best way to regulate body temperature is by sweating the crap out of yourself.

This week I fell prey to both crutches of the dish-selection process, and opted for something easy on the eyes and deliciously wintery. I’d like to think it tastes as good as it looks, but that’ll be up to you to decide.

Sweet-potato, Roasted beet, Macintosh apple, Red onion Winter mash (feel free to add bacon unless you’re a food activist)

Here’s what you need:

• 7 or 8 beets, which you will roast and cube (simmer down, I’ll walk you through it)
• 2 or 3 sweet potatoes (peeled and cubed)
• 2 Macintosh apples
• 1 red onion
• Fresh thyme
• Option to add garlic, yellow onion for extra kick
• Option to add bacon and kill the vegan inside, or beside you

Here’s what to do:

1. Roast your beets.

Roasting your Beets: Don’t get caught Beet-ing Off

When I set off down what I thought was a beet-en path in making this dish, I didn’t realize that in my 25 years of life on earth, I’d never actually roasted a beet. Good thing it’s not that hard.

The Internet will tell you to wash your beets. Here’s a secret: I didn’t wash mine, and I’m still standing. To be honest, I’m a big believer that most of the asthma and peanut butter allergies in this world came from the over-washing of root vegetables. Besides, after you roast your beets, you’re going to peel them anyway, so I don’t see the point in wasting water scrubbing those babies down.



Take your unwashed beets and put them down on a sheet of aluminum foil. Drizzle olive oil and sprinkle some coarse salt (or table salt) over them, and then cover them with another, similarly sized sheet of foil. Pinch the edges together and up, creating a nice little bundle of beets. Turn your oven to 375 F, and stick ‘em in. Since we’re going to keep cooking them later (after they’re roasted), don’t wait too long or they’ll soften. I’d say wait about 30-40 minutes (during which time you can do all the other things you need to do for this recipe).



2. While your beets are a-roasting, peel and chop up your sweet potatoes and your red onion. You can also chop up your apples, but put them aside. They come last, along with the thyme.

3. Throw the sweet potato and onion onto the skillet with some olive oil, salt and pepper.

4. Turn heat on to medium and mix these guys all around with your trusty wooden spoon until the sweet potatoes start to soften and the onions start to get crispy (hopefully this will coincide with when your beets are ready to be released from their foil snuggly).



5. When your beets decide it’s time to come out (see how much agency I gave them?), stick the skillet with the sweet potatoes and onion directly into the oven, which should still be at 375 F from your beet-roasting expedition.



6. Release your beets (see how much agency I just took away from them?) and proceed to peel, then chop up your beets. Be careful. After taking the roasted beets out of their tin foil encasement, nearly burning the skin off my palms (you can benefit from my lesson learned about the way heat is retained in beets), and finally getting around to peeling them with a too-big knife, my hands looked like I had just been milking Elmo. By the time I had chopped them into bite-sized cubes, I had sprayed enough beet juice on myself to pass for Stephen King’s Carrie, circa 1976. Needless to say, I’d avoid wearing anything white while you do all this.



7. Let your sweet potato-onion-skillet roast in the oven for about 10 minutes, then carefully take it out and put it back on the stovetop on medium heat. Mix in your beets. Drop a beet or two. Not really. It’s a pun.



8. Chop up your thyme (do this freshly), and throw it on top. Add in your chopped up apple, mix evenly, and cover your skillet. Leave covered, shaking it every minute or so, for about 10 more minutes. Or until your beets feel ready (agency!). Or until YOU feel ready (I’m a really experiential cook, so I base my recipes on how stuff tastes and feels in my mouth as I go along).

Try a beet, and depending on how much crunch you like, call this dish “done” whenever you like. Now, serve it to your friends and family and watch them watch their poop turn red. If you pair this dish with a cheap red wine, you could even get enough colour in there to make your pals of the male persuasion ride the crimson wave.