Here we are again, the holidays… gastronomy’s ultimate do over time of the year. Everyone’s getting fired up about brining birds, smoking hogs, roasting vegetables, buttering breads and sampling sweets. But it’s the same old tired stuff as last year… and the year before that. Maybe a few culinary twists but for the most part the menu doesn’t change. We’re creatures of habit, and you know what? I’m okay with that. In the past I used to fight it, but that got me nowhere. I was thrilled when two years ago my friend made goat stew for a pot luck holiday get-together. And I told everyone “See see, isn’t that great! Something different and interesting.” Some of my guests liked it but most vetoed the notion! The holiday menu will never budge, so why bother.

So you might be asking the question “What can I do to change it up a bit...add some sass to the meal without everyone screaming foul?”

How about making a few changes to your side dishes. After all, it is really the sides that steals the show on the holiday table -- the supporting cast that props up the celebrity bird, robust ham, crab or vegetarian main-- the unsung heroes. Here are two easy-to-make dishes that will add unique yet familiar flavors to the holiday meal.

The first one is a beet salad with pear and Mandarin oranges. The pear adds a wonderfully unique texture to the salad while the floral acidity of the orange helps to complement the fatty quality of the mains. It’s a great dish for people that SWEAR that they don’t like beets.

Roasted Beet and Pear Salad with Satsuma Mandarin Orange

Serves: 6

The beets can be cooked one or two days in advance.

Ingredients:
3 lbs medium to large sized Chioggia beets. Conventional is fine
1 ripe pear, cut into to thick match sticks
5 mandarin oranges, 4 for salad and 2 for juice
½ red onion, thinly sliced
2 heaping tablespoons, champagne vinegar
1 tablespoon, extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:
1. Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees

2. Cut off beet stems and wash really well. Place beets in a baking pan and toss with olive oil, salt and pepper.

3. Cover dish with aluminum foil and bake for 1-1 1/2 hrs. At the hour mark take out and pierce with the tip of a paring knife or toothpick to check if finished. Some larger beets might need an additional 15-25 minutes depending on how stubborn they are. When cooked, remove and let cool.

4. When cool, simply take an old kitchen towel and rub off the skin. Cut off both ends and then cut beets into 4, 6 or 8 piece wedges, depending on desired size. Place into bowl.

5. Juice the 2 oranges and set aside. Peel and rough chop the other 4.

6. Slice the pear and then cut into thick match sticks.

7. To finish, place all the ingredients into a bowl and toss.

Notes:
* It’s very important to not over mix the salad as it will look distressed.
* Try to mix the salad while the beets are still warm as it will absorb the juices better.
* The salad should be made and consumed on the same day as the pear will start to get mushy and discolor.

The next recipe is a breath of fresh air to the good old classic, green bean casserole. Most of us remember this dish as overcooked green beans and fried onions saturated in canned mushroom soup.

I wanted to give this dish a unique flavor without altering it too much. I found that fennel, leeks and a shot of Pernod did just that. The sweet leeks and slight liquorice flavor paired nicely with the earthy mushroom cream and fresh green beans. I also removed the tired old onions and replaced them with toasted pecans and buttery breadcrumbs. The last thing to note is that it’s not as rich and creamy as you might remember. I purposely made it so that the beans are coated in the cream but not drenched. It makes for a more vibrant textured dish.

Green Bean Casserole with Fennel, Leeks, Pernod and Toasted Stuffing

Serves: 6

Ingredients:
2 lbs. blue lake green beans
1 lb. button or cremini mushrooms, washed and sliced
1 bunch leeks, chopped and washed
½ fennel bulb, chopped
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
Teaspoon, fresh picked thyme
Shot of dry white wine
1 cup heavy cream
¼ cup vegetable stock
3 heaping tablespoons, Pernod
½ cup, chopped and toasted pecans
2 cups stuffing mix (cubes of bread)
Olive oil
Butter
Salt and pepper

Preparation:
1. Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees

2. Cook beans in salted boiling water, roughly 4 minutes. Remove and shock in ice water. Cut the beans in half.

3. Place a sauce pot on high heat and add a teaspoon of cooking oil. Get it super hot and then add the mushrooms. Sauté the mushrooms quickly and then remove from pan. You want them to be brown, crispy and somewhat dry.

4. Turn down heat to medium low; add another teaspoon of oil and a small amount of butter. Add leeks and fennel. And cook until soft. At that point add garlic and thyme and cook for a couple minutes more.

5. Deglaze the pan with wine. Stir and let cook for 30 seconds. Add heavy cream and turn down to low. Stir mixture and let the cream reduce by almost ¾. This will make the mixture thick and sweet! Add vegetable stock and reduce by half.

6. Season mixture with salt and pepper.

7. In another pan melt a tablespoon of butter. Cook until it starts to turn brown. Add bread/stuffing mixture and stir. Remove from heat.

8. In a large bowl toss the beans, mushrooms, fennel cream and pecans together. Add a titch more salt.

9. Place in a casserole dish and cover with stuffing mixture. Place in oven and bake for 10 minutes. Then crank up broiler and crisp up stuffing. Depending on your broiler I would think that 30 seconds would do the trick.

10. Remove and serve hot!

Notes:
* The salt in the bean cooking liquid is twofold. It flavors but also helps retain the green color.
* Make sure not to overcook the beans! A little under done is better than over cooked.
* Taste the mixture before you add stuffing and bake. You might want more Pernod or seasoning.
* You can also use stale bread and make your own topping.

The last turkey sandwiches and scraps of pumpkin pie are gone, the final breakfast of hot coffee and cold stuffing finished, and suddenly, another holiday is sending you back into the kitchen, this time to fry, fry, fry. Chanukah, the Jewish Festival of Lights, comes early this year, starting the evening of Wednesday, December 1st and ending 8 days later on December 9th.

Last year, I passed along all my must-have tips for latkes, the potato pancakes that are the festive centerpiece of family dinners during this holiday. Now, onto the borscht!

You wouldn't necessarily think, given how many people (Barack Obama included) shudder at the very thought of a beet, that a pot of beet-and-cabbage soup could best a platter of crispy, greasy, fried potatoes slathered in sour cream and applesauce, but I've seen it happen.

Every year at my annual Chanukah party, folks come for the latkes but stay for the borscht. Waiting for the next round of potato pancakes to come out of the frying pan, they drift over to the big pot of magenta soup at the back of the stove, scoop out a bowlful, dollop on the sour cream, and before I know it, they're at my elbow, demanding to know "what is in this soup??"

They don't really believe me when I tell them it's nothing but dowdy root vegetables like turnips and parsnips, dill, a little cider vinegar and a whole bunch of beets and cabbage. Inspired by the dreamy borscht served at the marvelously glamorous, original incarnation of the Russian Tea Room in New York City, my borscht has adapted over the years, to where there's hardly even a recipe to follow.

Onions, leeks, and garlic are sauteed to start with, then followed by a bowlful of whatever could survive a Russian winter, usually a combination of carrots, parsnips, turnips, celery root, and rutabaga, then chopped or grated beets and finely sliced red cabbage, all seasoned with plenty of salt, caraway seed, and a few twigs of sage or thyme. Because I usually make my borscht vegetarian, I add a big can of diced tomatoes (Muir Glen's fire-roasted tomatoes are particularly nice) to give body and a bit of acidity to all that root-vegetable sweetness. Water to make up however much liquid is needed, and then, the crucial splash of red-wine or apple-cider vinegar for tartness. A gentle simmer for 45 minutes or so, an adjustment of salt or vinegar, a hefty stir-in of chopped fresh dill, and the borscht is ready. Like every winter soup, it improves with age, and can be made a day or two ahead of time.

My Polish landlord has promised to have me over for borscht sometime this winter. The red borscht that I know, he says, is a specialty of eastern Poland and Ukraine. In western Poland, however, they make a white borscht with sausage, potatoes, and zur, a tart, cloudy liquid fermented from rye meal and rye-bread crusts. I haven't yet tried this kind, since it sounds like it needs a freezing-cold, months-long Eastern European winter to properly accompany it.

In my Jewish experience, there are two kinds of borscht: the cold kind, made only with beets, that you mix with sour cream to a lurid hot-pinkness and drink from a glass, and the belly-filling winter kind, chock full of cabbage, beets, and root vegetables, served with a dollop of sour cream on top, challah or rye bread on the side.

I generally make mine vegetarian, since I'm usually making borscht for a crowd, but many cooks make theirs with meat, chunks of fatty, tough but flavorful beef cooked on the bone to give body to the broth. A shot of vinegar keeps winter's appetite sharp, although now that everyone's madly pickling, you could add in some naturally fermented sauerkraut juice, perhaps and some sauerkraut, too, or a few diced pickled beets with their juice.

Winter Borscht
It's impossible to make a small amount of borscht. Anyway, why would you want to? It keeps well and can sustain you for days. The amounts listed here are approximate, since the amount of borscht you make should be constrained only by the size of the biggest pot you have.

Serves: 8

Ingredients:
2 tbsp oil or butter
1 large onion, peeled and chopped, and/or 1 large leek, trimmed and chopped
3 to 5 cloves garlic, chopped
2 carrots, chopped
1 parsnip, chopped
1 turnip, chopped
1 rutabaga, chopped (optional)
1 celery root, chopped
3 beets, peeled and chopped or grated
1/2 head of red cabbage, thinly sliced
1 cup cooked small white beans, optional
1 28-oz can diced tomatoes and juice
water as needed
1 - 2 tsp salt, to taste
2 tsp caraway seed
1 tsp dill seed (optional)
1 tsp dried thyme or several branches of fresh thyme or sage
2 tbsp apple-cider or red-wine vinegar, or to taste

Garnish:
1 small bunch fresh dill, minced
Sour cream--the real stuff, with no additives, and definitely NOT "lite" or nonfat. If you truly won't (or can't) bear the full-fatness, use non- or lowfat Greek yogurt instead.

Preparation:
1. Over medium heat, heat oil in a large, heavy soup pot. Reduce heat, add onions, leek, and garlic. Cook, stirring, until softened and translucent but not browned, 5 to 8 minutes.

2. Add chopped carrots, parsnips, turnip, celery root and rutabaga and cook, stirring, until vegetables are slightly softened, 8-10 minutes. Add beets and cabbage and cook for another few minutes.

3. Add salt, caraway, and thyme. Add tomatoes and juice, white beans if using, and enough water to cover vegetables. Add vinegar to taste. Bring to a simmer, then reduce heat to keep soup at a gentle simmer. Partially cover and let cook until vegetables are tender and flavors have blended, about 45 minutes.

4. Adjust salt and vinegar. To serve, top each bowlful with a generous sprinkle of fresh dill and a dollop of sour cream.

There are two ways you can go on Valentine's Day. On one hand, it's an excellent holiday for kids, or goofily cheerful adults. You get out the paper doilies and the glitter and red velvet cupcakes with pink frosting and those chalky little conversation hearts that now say things like Text Me and Tweet Me (and am I the only one who thinks there should be a Boomer or even Gen-X version of these that leaves out the technology and just sticks with Luv U and Foxy Lady and Love Bug?) and you sit around the kitchen table with hot-pink crayons and sparkly markers and cut out homemade cards for everyone.

In the morning there are chocolate-chip pancakes made in the shape of hearts and maybe gold-sprayed macaroni necklaces, if anyone makes those any more. In the evening, whoever doesn't usually make dinner does the job, or if that's a serious obstacle to getting something edible on the table in less than 3 hours without total kitchen destruction, then copious back-rubbing and foot-worshipping should follow, once the sugar-happy kids are off to bed. Maraschino cherries, red food coloring, whipped cream for breakfast: perfectly acceptable food choices today.

And then, for all of you grownups without kids, or with kids over at Grandma's for the night, there's Valentine's Day, Goth Edition. Don't get me wrong: I agree with Gawker that the only thing more tedious than Walgreen's chocolate boxes are Valentine's Day haters (the fabulous My Sucky Valentine show excluded, of course). But why must love be celebrated in only its sweetest incarnations?

The best way to save your holiday drowning from Hallmark/LIfetime movie/Whitman's Sampler goo? Paint it black instead of pretty pink, shiny and slick as a tangy of squid-ink pasta, topped with the claws of a lobster or a Dungeness crab in all their fiesty gripping glory, bathed in a fiery fra diavolo sauce.

Make your menu a vampiric splendor of fang-licking blood red and bat-cave midnight black. You could go straight to the Scorpio menu in my Astrology Cookbook: figs wrapped in proscuitto and dripping with pomegranate glaze; lamb chops sauced with port, bleeding heart cake gushing molten chocolate and raspberry. Or you can mix and match you and your demon lover's favorite dishes, adding an edge of pleasure and pain. Like it spicy? Then make that curry really, really spicy. Endorphins=good. (Just be careful slicing those chilis. Capsicum can linger for hours on fingertips, even after washing, not something you want to discover during your after-dinner activities.)

Love sushi? Lay out a spread of the most luscious, mind-melting bites you can find-rich tuna belly, crazy-sexy uni, salty-slippery roe, a little octopus, for the chew.

If you must go heart-shaped, do it with beets, bathing your fingers deeply in their magenta dye. Beets, blood oranges, avocado: this Heart's Desire salad is actually full of encouragingly aphrodisiacs, especially vitamins B and E. Plus, it looks much more alluring that your average pile of mixed greens. You could even add cooked shrimp, crab, or even lobster to it, making it into a ravishing main dish that won't send you into a prime-rib food coma when you have charming toes to kiss or a nape of the neck to adore.

Heart's Desire Salad
Peeling raw beets is a thankless task. Luckily, the skins will slip off effortlessly once the beets are cooked, especially if you get to them while they're still warm.

Ingredients
4 beets, roasted or boiled until very tender, then peeled
2 blood oranges
2 handfuls of arugula, watercress, or mixed greens
juice of 1 Meyer lemon
1 tbsp pomegranate molasses
2-3 tbsp olive oil
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1 avocado
2 tbsp crumbled feta or soft goat cheese (optional)

Preparation:
1. Cut beets into wedges or half-moons. (Or, using a small cookie cutter, cut into heart shapes.)

2. Grate rind of 1 orange finely. Whisk together orange rind, lemon juice, pomegranate molasses, olive oil, salt, and pepper, adjusting ingredients to taste. Let beets marinate in dressing for 1 hour.

3. Peel oranges, ruthlessly removing all white pith, and slice thinly into rounds, then half-moons. Mix orange slices and greens with beets, tossing to coat with dressing. Yes, everything will turn red, but that's OK, under the circumstances. Arrange on two plates. Just before serving, top with avocado slices and optional cheese. Grind on a little fresh pepper and serve.

Roasted Beet Inspiration from Pasta Sfoglia

When I saw this gorgeous dish of Farro Spaghetti, Beets, Brown Butter, and Poppy Seeds featured on Grub Street New York a few weeks ago, it was so beautiful it hurt my heart a little.

A recipe from Pasta Sfoglia, a new cookbook by Ron Suhanosky and Colleen Marnell-Suhanosky (owners of the acclaimed Italian restaurant Sfoglia, with locations in NY and Nantucket), this dish is striking with its ruby red stain and specks of poppy seeds.

The book explains that beets, together with poppy seeds, are typical in dishes of the northern Italian regions of Friuli and Alto Adige. While the combination sounds wonderful -- really, I can't wait to try the recipe word for word -- I didn't have poppy seeds on hand and I wasn't ready to commit to all that butter for a simple weeknight meal. Oh yes, and then there was that pesky aversion to goat cheese I have. (I know, first the butter, now this? Please hold the hate mail, I do love flavor, I promise you.)

And so, the bastardization of Pasta Sfoglia's recipe began.

Instead of covering the beets in olive oil and water to roast in a baking dish like they suggest, I went with my tried and true, easy method of wrapping the beets in foil and roasting them on a baking sheet. A little less mess and 1/4 cup less olive oil.

I couldn't find farro spaghetti, but I did have some whole wheat spaghetti in the pantry. A tip for anyone who has ever tried whole wheat spaghetti and hated it, try Barilla's Plus Multigrain Pasta. Unlike many other brands of whole grain pasta, it doesn't taste like cardboard. The texture and flavor are surprisingly similar to regular pasta. Especially in this dish where the color and accompanying ingredients are so spectacular, you won’t even notice the difference.

Barilla Plus Multigrain Spaghetti

For the brown butter sauce, I cut down the 6 tablespoons of unsalted butter to only 3 tablespoons, and made up for the missing half by adding 3 tablespoons of olive oil.

Instead of poppy seeds, I used walnuts chopped finely.

Instead of goat cheese, I used Boursin. Its creamy texture was a good match, as was its tangy, rich flavor. The perfect substitute I thought, with an extra boost of garlic and herb flavoring, and not a trace of the gaminess I find so deterring in goat's milk products.

In the end, despite my changes and substitutions, I think the essence of the dish remained intact to Sfoglia's original recipe. The flavor of the roasted beets is front and center. And what an elusive flavor to describe that is. What does a beet taste like? (Besides red).

It is clean and earthy. Mellow. Wholesome. Paired with the herby tang of the cheese, the toasted walnuts, and brown butter, the dish exudes a woodsy warmth to it. Strong oak trees, sun speckled leaves, and rich dirt crumbling through my fingertips.

Whole Wheat Spaghetti with Beets, Brown Butter, Walnuts

Adapted from Ron Suhanosky and Colleen Marnell-Suhanosky's recipe for "Farro Spaghetti, Beets, Brown Butter, Poppy Seeds" (Pasta Sfoglia).

Serves: 4-6

Ingredients:
1 pound red beets, cleaned with leaves and stalks removed
1 package Barilla Plus Multigrain Spaghetti (14.5 oz)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons olive oil
¼ cup walnuts, finely chopped
1 teaspoon kosher salt
½ cup pasta water
4 tablespoons Boursin cheese

Preparation:
1. Preheat the oven to 450°F. Wrap the beets in foil and place on a baking sheet. Roast for an hour until the beets are tender through. Let cool until you can handle them.

2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.

3. Peel the beets and cut into chunks. Tip: wear gloves or place a plastic baggie over your hand to protect your fingers from getting stained. Using a paring knife, peel the skin off the beets. It should come off easily.

4. Add the beets to the bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade and process to a rough puree. Add the spaghetti to the boiling water and cook according to the package directions.

5. Add the butter to a 10-inch skillet. Turn on the heat to high. Brown the butter, about 2 minutes. Add the olive oil. Add the chopped walnuts and toast for 1-2 minutes (be careful not to burn). Add the pureed beets, salt, and the ½ cup pasta water to the skillet. Stir to fully incorporate.

6. Use tongs to remove the spaghetti from the pot and place them directly into the skillet with the sauce. Stir to combine.

7. Divide the spaghetti into equal portions and place on warm plates. Use two large soup spoons to form little oval mounds (called quenelles in culinary speak) of the Boursin. Place a quenelle of Boursin on top of each serving.

8. Serve immediately.

Roasted Beet Salad with Lavender-Scented Fried Summer Squash, Chevre, Figs, Cucumber Relish and a Balsamic Reduction

I finally jumped on the CSA wagon and I must admit, it was kind of like Christmas when my first box arrived, full of the lingering summer's bounty.

Fresh lavender perfumed the air as I unpacked each item with glee: heirloom tomatoes, okra, honeydew, beets, figs, flying saucer squash, and lemon cucumbers, among other loot.

Specimen A: Lemon Cucumber

Side note: this was the first time I encountered lemon cucumbers. They are pale yellow, the size of a small lemon, and quite adorable. They're sweet, and delicate-flavored, and don't have as many seeds as your average green cucumbers.

I rinsed off and bit into a plump, ripe, fig as the culinary inspiration started working its way through my thoughts. I was stoked to see a handful of the flying saucer squash that I have been admiring at the farmer's market the past few weeks. And, the beets called out to me. I love roasted beets with their crimson bleed and mellow, sweet flavor. But, I've never actually prepared them myself before.

OK, this is why I signed up for this, right? To try new things? To push my comfort zone? To eat good, healthy, veggies? Turns out, roasting beets is not difficult at all. And as for inspiration, before I knew it, sauce pans were out, kitchen cabinets hung ajar, and a CSA salad was born.

Roasted Beet Salad with Lavender-Scented Fried Summer Squash, Chevre, Figs, Cucumber Relish and a Balsamic Reduction

Serves: 4-6

Ingredients:
2 beets
3 flying saucer squash
4 figs, halved
1 lemon cucumber
1 cup panko bread crumbs
1 egg, beaten
Chevre, or cheese of your choice
2 teaspoons rice wine vinegar
¼ cup balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons sugar
½ teaspoon lavender
Olive oil for frying
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:
Roasted Beets
1. Preheat oven to 450 F.
2. Rinse beets, remove leaves, and wrap in foil. Place on a baking sheet and roast for an hour until the beets are tender through.
3. Let cool until you can handle them. Tip: wear gloves or place a plastic baggie over your hand to protect your fingers from getting stained. Using a paring knife, peel the skin off the beets. It should come off easily.
4. Slice into ¼ inch rounds. Set aside.

Figs & Balsamic Reduction
1. Heat a small saucepan to medium-high heat.
2. Sear the fig halves, flat side down for a few minutes, just until the surface caramelizes a bit. Remove and set aside.
3. In the same pan, lower the heat and add the balsamic vinegar and sugar. Let simmer until the sauce becomes thick and syrupy. Set aside.

Cucumber Relish
1. Cut the cucumber into a fine dice. You can leave the skin on if you're using lemon cucumbers since their skin is softer than regular green cucumbers.
2. Mix with rice vinegar, a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and set aside.

Fried Summer Squash
1. In a deep frying pan, heat 2 inches of oil to right below smoking point. I like the taste of olive oil (don't use the expensive stuff), but you can use vegetable oil if you prefer.
2. Prepare your assembly line: squash sliced into ¼ inch rounds, egg wash, dish filled with bread crumbs seasoned with lavender and a pinch of salt and pepper. I prefer panko because of its extra crunch, but you can use regular dried breadcrumbs as well.
3. Dip each slice of squash into egg wash, then coat with breadcrumbs.
4. To test the oil, drop a little piece of eggy breadcrumb into the pan. If it just sinks, the oil is not hot enough. If it burns quickly, the oil is too hot. If it starts to bubble right away and floats, it is just the right temperature and you're now ready to start frying up your squash.
5. Let the fried squash drain on a plate lined with paper towels. Sprinkle with a little salt while they're still hot. Set aside.

Cheese
You can use any cheese you'd like, however, fresh goat cheese and beets are a traditional pairing. If you're like me though, and have an aversion to goat cheese (I know, one of my great downfalls as a foodie, I disappoint myself in this respect time after time), try a gooey burrata, or Cowgirl Creamery's buttery Mt. Tam, or a ricotta salata for something sharper and firmer.

Now you're ready to assemble and plate. Layer beets, cheese, squash, repeat, and top with the cucumber relish. Garnish with the figs and balsamic reduction.

Enjoy!

So, the Obamas are planting that organic edible garden on the grounds of the White House after all. It looks like a lovely melting-pot of flavors and cultures, too, with tomatillos and Thai basil, chiles and cilantro, chard and arugula.

But where's the beet? First George Bush dissed broccoli; now Barack has put the kibosh on beets. Frankly, beets don't need any help in that direction. Many otherwise rational, veg-loving folks still recoil from these little magenta orbs as if from a snake, San Francisco's endless parade of beet-and-goat-cheese salads notwithstanding.

Now, I used to be that way, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in solidarity with my fellow beet-haters. But I had good reason.

My mother, to her credit, never tortured us with canned beets. We went to a local New Jersey farmstand and brought home perfectly nice fresh beets, but they only ever got cooked one way: boiled, then covered in a slippery, cornstarch-thickened sweet-and-sour glop of vinegar, sugar, and cloves. These she called Harvard beets. They must have been something her own mother had cooked for her, 1950s home food for a 1970s woman who otherwise made stir-fries and homemade granola. And I loathed them, and blamed the beets.

Well, moving to San Francisco revealed that an Ivy League pedigree wasn't the only way to go. Beets that were roasted instead of boiled had a lush, jelly-like texture and a slight but alluring smokiness. When I discovered pomegranate molasses--a tart, intensely fruity syrup used throughout the Middle East and Central Asia, made made from the boiled-down juice of sour pomegranates--I knew I'd found my beets' soul mate.

Beets now star in two of my Jewish-holiday menus: as part of a thick, wintery borscht served alongside the Chanukah latkes, and in this blood-orange salad, always served for the Passover Seder in springtime It's not that there's a particular affinity between beets and Jews; it's just that, with a lot of guests on hand, I can count on more conversions.

This salad has flipped--for good!--many a self-avowed beet hater. Right now is a great time to try it, since both late-season blood oranges and early-season beets are available. Why blood oranges? Well, the beets are going to stain everything magenta anyway, so why not start with something that already matches? Also, there's a fruity-berry quality to blood oranges that matches the tart, almost winey flavor of the pomegranate molasses.

I've made this for my mother, and she likes it, well enough. But not as much as she still loves her Harvard beets.

Ruby Beet Salad
Adapted from The Astrology Cookbook: A Cosmic Guide to Feasts of Love, by Stephanie Rosenbaum.

Ingredients:
1 bunch beets (3 or 4 beets), unpeeled, stalks & leaves removed
2 oranges, preferably blood oranges
2 tbsp pomegranate molasses*, or to taste
1/4 cup olive oil
salt and freshly ground pepper

* You can find pomegranate molasses at Haig's Delicacies in San Francisco or at Indus Foods (1920 San Pablo Ave., Berkeley) in the East Bay.

Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350°F. Rinse beets and place them, still wet, on a square of aluminum foil. Fold the foil around them to make a nice little package. Pop in the oven and roast until you can slip a knife easily through both beets. If there's any resistance, let them roast some more; the more tender, the better. Remove beets from oven and let cool in packet. When beets are cool enough to handle, slip off skins. Cut into wedges and set aside.

Grate the rind off one of the oranges, tossing the grated rind with the beets. Cut the now-bald orange in half and squeeze the juice over the beets and rind. Drizzle on pomegranate molasses, olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Toss and taste for seasoning. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour. Just before serving, peel and slice remaining orange and add to salad.