No, this is not about trying a French recipe, as the title may have led you to believe. I am fighting the strong genetic* impulse I have to unleash a tornado of beet/beat puns on this post, and I’ve already lost the battle with the title. And quel dommage, because if I ever do photograph horse meat with beetroot, I’ve already used up my best title for it. Here I have these beautiful vegetables, I’m reveling in the pleasure of cooking and photographing foods when they are in season and all I can think to write are a bunch of groaners. So I’m going to stop right there and just get on with the other photos – A simple beet and carrot slaw and another shot of those fabulous trimmed off bits that never made it into the dish, but really help to beautify the compost.
*I’m sure it’s in my DNA, thanks to my dad Vern. Seriously, five minutes with him and some beets, it would be obvious to even the most witless of dullards.