
The life of a golden beet isn't really a very glamorous one. We don't get out very much, we tend to be a bit grubby and we've got this embarrassing dry skin problem.
So imagine how surprised I was to find out that I've somehow become a symbol of everything that's wrong with food these days; according to this funny lady Carla Spartos, I'm nothing less than a nightstick in the hands of the food police, the so-called "Gourmonsters" who are trying to bully us all into eating our vegetables and threatening to steal our Ho Hos.
While I appreciate the shout-out -- it's nice to know that Alice Waters wants to dress me up in a fancy vinaigrette -- I've got to say that all of the attention seems a little misplaced.
Read why after the jump.


The beet has always been my bête noire, the last food I genuinely hated in all forms. I wanted to like beets, I really did. They're so pretty. The stunning magenta of borscht, baby red and yellow beets laying like rare gemstones on a salad plate. 









