Beet

This is one of those recipes where success relies on the freshness of the ingredients. Use the best-quality Gorgonzola you can find, be it a mild domestic version or the more pungent Italian variety. Either one will pair nicely with the chile oil, which enlivens this classic recipe. This makes for a beautiful presentation on a platter, but you can easily divide the beet slices among individual plates and serve it that way.

Jícama, a Mexican root vegetable with the crispness of a raw potato, but with a sweeter taste, adds great crunch to this simple salad, which gets a lift from the unexpected addition of soy sauce and sesame oil to the dressing. My great-grandmother used beet coloring as lipstick and as blush. Here I add beets not only for their vibrant color but also for crunch.

This Thick Beet Pancake cooked slowly on both sides until the beet sugars caramelize, sports a crunchy, sweet crust that, I swear, is reminiscent of crème brûlée. It must be cooked in a nonstick skillet, preferably a twelve-inch one (if you have only a ten-inch skillet, use only one and a half pounds of beets and the same quantity of the other ingredients), over moderate heat: too-high heat and too-quick cooking will burn the sugary exterior of the pancake while leaving the inside raw. Remember that beets bleed, so it is wise to peel them over the sink and wash the grater or food processor as soon as you’re done with it.

Eaten raw, beets are delicious; even many self-proclaimed beet haters will like them in this salad. To eat a beet raw, you have to peel it and shred it. The first step is easiest with a regular vegetable peeler. I do the second with the metal blade of a food processor, pulsing the machine on and off until the beets are finely cut. You could use the shredding blade, but it isn’t any easier or better. Or you could use a manual grater, but only if you’re looking for an upper-body workout.

Most vegetables can be prepared with little more than olive oil and salt, but few are as rewarding as beets, which can be stunningly delicious when done this way. One key is to bake them—which dries out their flesh a little bit and concentrates their flavor—rather than boil them. (Think of the difference between a baked and a boiled potato.) It takes some time, but it is easy and reduces staining. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: carrots or parsnips (peel before roasting), turnips or rutabagas; cooking time will vary.

Made throughout the Balkans, into Russia and Turkey, this is essentially a chopped vegetable—it can be almost anything—combined with a strong version of Tarator (page 600). It can be eaten alone or used as a spread or as a dip for pita. Most people let it sit for a few hours before serving, which allows the garlic to mellow and the flavors to marry. This isn’t a bad idea, but if you’re in a hurry, plunge right in. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: eggplant (roasted or quickly boiled, as in Eggplant Salad with Mustard-Miso Dressing, page 185); red beans, cooked until tender; green beans; spinach or other greens.

This salad is a popular item on the Sabbath table of Moroccan Jews. It’s at its best after sitting in the dressing for a couple of hours; in fact, you can store it for up to a week in the refrigerator.

Beets are earthy and sweet; horseradish is earthy and seismic; the combination is fortuitous. Fresh horseradish is best, but you can substitute prepared horseradish if necessary (make sure the jar hasn’t been opened for too long, or the horseradish will have lost its intensity). This salad is best after marinating in the refrigerator for a day or two, so prepare it ahead of time if you think of it.

Raita is salad, relish, dip, and side dish in one. Yogurt-based, it usually includes something sharp to balance the sour blandness: onion, spices, mustard, even chiles. (It’s most closely associated with India, but similar mixtures are made in the Middle East.) The recipe here is the basic foundation of many raitas and is usually not eaten as is but added to according to preference. There are infinite variations, of which the ones that follow are among the most popular. All balance spicy curries well but are also good eaten on their own or as a dip for flatbreads, like those on pages 559–565.

Beet salads in general are wonderful, but this one is a refreshing change. For one thing, the beets are raw. For another, their sweetness is offset by the sharp taste of raw cabbage; it’s a fine if odd marriage. Think of it as Swedish coleslaw (like coleslaw, it can be made a few hours in advance). Whenever you peel beets—and especially when you’re grating them—be sure to wear an apron or clothing you don’t care about.

As noted in the previous recipe, borscht can become quite elaborate. Here it becomes a full meal.

An unusual and unexpected variation on the traditional beef-and-vegetable stew, differing largely in its inclusion of beets, which deliver their distinctive sweetness and color. In fact it’s close to the vegetarian version of borscht (page 116), especially if you add the optional sour cream. If you use chuck or brisket here, the cooking time will be longer but the stew will taste better; if you’re in a hurry, use tenderloin—you’ll save time but lose flavor.

Borscht, like gazpacho, is difficult to define; there are more versions than you can count. But at least we know they all (or almost all, anyway) contain beets (it’s likely that the word borscht comes from the same root as the word for beet). And usually borscht is served cold. But it can be a vegetarian affair or a big meaty stew. The vegetarian version is usually served cold, while the beefy version is usually a hot winter dish. Here’s a fairly simple cold borscht with hot potatoes, a style I have made for thirty years (and first ate, at my grandmother’s table, before that). For a meaty borscht, see page 148.

Radicchio belongs to the chicory family. Sweet and bitter at the same time, it is delicious in salads, braised alone, in risotto, and for making pasta sauces. On my recent trip to the Salinas Valley in California, I was astounded to see how radicchio prospered, and how much of it was being produced.

This beautiful salad really depends on good ingredients: small firm beets with fresh unblemished greens still attached; a crisp tart apple or perhaps ripe fresh peaches or Black Mission figs; and aged goat cheese with a crumbly consistency. Roasting the beets to intensify the sweetness is also a key to the best salad.

These quick pickles make nice nibbles with drinks, and are great served with charcuterie. You can vary the vegetables according to what looks best in the market—just make sure they are fresh and attractive and that you cut them into roughly the same size so they become tender at the same time.

Southerners just love beets—perhaps because beets are one of the rare vegetables that will grow in the South straight through spring and summer and all the way into the fall. But I like to make this jewel-toned salad best in the spring, when you can get multicolor carrots, like Yellowstones, Purple Dragons, Atomic Reds, and Yayas, and beets, like Boros, Bulls’ Bloods, and Candy Stripes.

My initial exposure to French cuisine was during my first trip to Europe. It was long before I would eat in any three-star restaurants, and that exposure—the best I could have asked for—came from sitting in cafés. I was a wide-eyed twenty-three-year-old (and I was told by a waiter not to practice my high school French on him). I remember beautiful, colorful plates of vegetables going past me. I soon learned it was the classic French presentation of crudités, an assortment of three or four salads served together. It was fresh, affordable, and very appetizing, and it was served all over the city. Once in a while I’ll run this as a special in my restaurant; then I’ll forget about it until I crave it again. Any one of these salads can stand on its own, but if you put them all together they make for an extraordinary meal. Marinated Lentil Salad with Creamy Goat Cheese and Ripe Tomatoes (p. 113) would be a welcome addition to the mix.

When I was a kid, I used to think that beets tasted just like the dirt they were grown in. Happily, I am older, wiser, less fussy, and can appreciate the sweet earthiness of these beautiful vegetables—and I do find that dressings made with a little fruit vinegar bring out the sweet and temper the earthiness. A bright, tangy goat cheese is such a perfect match that it’s become ubiquitous on bistro menus.

Using canned beets keeps the prep time to a minimum, but you can substitute roasted beets if you wish (see note below).

Try this slightly spicy salad with roast pork or chicken. Shredding the vegetables in a food processor makes the preparation lightning fast; you can shred them on a four-sided box grater instead, but it will increase the prep and total times.