What’s better than a good recipe? When something’s so easy you don’t need one. In It’s That Simple, we talk you through the dishes and drinks we make with our eyes closed. Today, beet pesto.
I always have one more beet than I need. Whether I’m making pickled eggs, a vegetarian reuben sandwich, or a rich chocolate cake, I always end up with an extra beet rattling around in my vegetable bin. Some may blame my winter CSA, others may blame dark magic—but there it sits, growing progressively smaller and more shriveled as it languishes, the Miss Havisham of root vegetables.
My solution is beet pesto. It’s earthy, it’s savory, it normalizes eating pesto in winter. The taste is familiar—your picky kid just might eat it—but with unexpected depth, sweetness, and color. It freezes well, and if you have a white farmhouse sink, it will look like the scene of a bloody crime. Dramatic!
Here’s how to make beet pesto:
Preheat your oven to 375°. Wrap your forgotten beet in tin foil—no need to peel—and pour in 1 Tbsp. olive oil and sprinkle with salt before sealing it tightly. Roast the beet until a paring knife easily pierces it. The cook time will depend on how large your beet is, but start checking after half an hour. Be careful as you unwrap the foil as steam will escape.
Once your beet is roasted, let it sit, unwrapped, until cool enough to handle. The peel should come away easily with a little help from a paring knife. Roughly chop the peeled beet into large cubes and add to a food processor with 1 garlic clove, 2 large handfuls of basil, a couple ounces of Parmesan cheese, and salt. Blitz the ingredients, adding olive oil through the feed tube until everything comes together and looks like pesto—the exact amount will vary depending on the size of your beet(s).
As with any non-recipe recipe, beet pesto is endlessly customizable. Add nuts if you have them—any kind will work, but I’m partial to cashews or pistachios. If I have soft goat cheese on hand, I’ll throw some into the food processor and watch as the mixture turns a gorgeous creamy pink. Have two sad neglected beets? Your pesto will be beet-ier. Did your Aerogarden deliver a bumper crop of basil? It’ll be brighter and herbier.
As for serving, toss beet pesto with pasta, swirl it into Greek yogurt, and top it with a fried egg, plate it with pretzels and crudités for dipping, slather it onto crostini, or spread it onto the bread of your grilled cheese sandwich. It’s so versatile that you just might find yourself buying extra beets on purpose.