Okay, first things first: beets. If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably spent a significant portion of your life avoiding them. I mean, they look like tiny heart transplants waiting to happen, and they taste like… the Earth. Not “earthy,” not “fresh,” just straight-up dirt. If you told me they were dug up yesterday by some farmer named Hank, I would believe you.
So when I came across *The Kitchn’s* *beet box* recipe, my initial reaction was a healthy dose of skepticism and fear. But, seeing as I am a mature adult who tries new things (this is not entirely true, but let’s pretend), I decided to give it a go.
Now in the spirit of being honest I should admit to two things. My grocery store doesn’t sell beets with the greens attached because I don’t go to places like Whole Foods. You know what my grocery did have? Spinach.
Secondly the recipe called for pancetta and since pancetta is basically bacon that went to an Italian boarding school and came back with a fancy accent, we downgraded to the more affordable but ever so humble bacon instead.
Phase 1: Why Is My Kitchen Bleeding?
The first thing I learned is that beets are basically nature’s prank on anyone who ever thought they could keep a clean kitchen. Within seconds of slicing into one, my counter, my hands, and somehow even my *ceiling* were covered in purple. If you’ve ever cut into one of these bad boys, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s like the emotional wreckage from a breakup, except this time the ex is a root vegetable.
If you’ve ever wanted to experience the joy of turning your kitchen into a crime scene, just go ahead and make this recipe. You’ll look like you just committed a terrible vegetable murder. However, that splash of color and murder podcast vibe really gave my kitchen that millennial appeal it’s been missing #aesthetics
Phase 2: This Is Going to Take How Long?
Beets, it turns out, need to be *roasted*. And not for five or ten minutes. No, no. These things need the kind of time commitment usually reserved for marriage or assembling IKEA furniture. You have to roast them for nearly an hour, which in beet-time is about three lifetimes or the time it takes me to debate the pros and cons of Taylor Swift’s entire catalog. In that hour, I questioned every life choice that led me to this moment including my decision to make this recipe. Wouldn’t just getting a bag of chips taste better and take less time?
But I did what the recipe told me, because I am nothing if not obedient to instructions I find on the internet.
Phase 3: Holy Mother of Goats, Is That Cheese?
At this point, I’m starting to suspect that beets are just a vessel to get to the real nemesis of the show: goat cheese. Let me tell you, if I could annihilate goat cheese, I would. If I could ban goat cheese from my house and convince everyone not to buy it, I’d probably do that too (wait, I already do). It’s got vile texture, is tangy where it needs to be sharp and frankly, it makes any food it pairs with look like the awkward friend who’s just there for the ride.
So when the recipe tells you to crumble goat cheese over the roasted beets, you give it a light dusting like it’s the arm of a culinary god restraining you.
Phase 4: Hazelnuts? Sure, Why Not
Just when you think this recipe is content with confusing you, it throws in a wild card: *hazelnuts*. That’s right. Not walnuts, not almonds. Not even pistachios. Hazelnuts. At this point, I wasn’t entirely sure if this was a beet dish or if it was a trick meant to get me into the snack aisle of a Whole Foods.
Phase 5: The Taste Test
Now, the big question: *was it worth it?*
Well, after what felt like days of beet-staining, roasting, crumbling, and hazelnut sprinkling, I finally took a bite. And you know what? It wasn’t terrible. In fact, it was… good.
The beets were sweet and tender (turns out roasting them isn’t just an evil plot to waste your time), the goat cheese was actually complimentary in the mix, and the hazelnuts added this weirdly delightful crunch. The whole thing tasted like it had just come out of a trendy restaurant that charges way too much for things like *air*.
I won’t say I’ve completely reformed my opinion on beets, but I will say this dish made me rethink my long-held stance that beets belong in the compost bin.
Conclusion: Should You Make This?
If you have an hour of your life to spare and are ready to make peace with a vegetable that bleeds and ruins your clothes, then yes. Make it. It will make you feel like you studied cooking in an artsy Parision loft while in the midst of a bloody vegetable crime scene. And if you don’t like it, just smother everything in bacon grease and hazelnuts. That will fix any problem.
Also, wear an apron. Trust me on this.
