Dear Roasted Beets,
I like you. I think you’re sweet and pretty, but so much more. You’re earthy and robust, and you’re good for me, in so many ways. But I’m writing today because I think we have to break up.
This spring, we’ve spent a lot of time together, and it has been delicious. I especially liked it when we have shared a meal at the Wedge with our friends, Mixed Greens, Gorgonzola, and Walnuts—not to mention Raspberry Vinaigrette, your soulmate who dresses in the same color as you. And I know how you appreciate it when I make sure that each one of them sits next to you on my fork as I lift you to my mouth for each glorious bite.
I think I might even love you.
But I wish that you could get along better with my GI System. You see, GI and I have been together for a long time, and she is usually quite agreeable. She likes almost all of my culinary friends—even the spicy ones, on the occasion that I want to cut loose and party! I don’t know if you said something to offend her, but it is clear that my GI doesn’t like you the way that I do. In fact, she usually sees you coming in the front door, and boots you right out the back, and that makes me feel bad.
I am so sorry, Beets, that it has to end this way. Maybe we can see each other sometimes, in small doses, and maybe GI will tolerate it. But I know where my loyalties lie, and I think that for now I have to respect GI’s feelings and take a break from you for a while.
I had a really wonderful time at lunch today. Please know that I never meant to hurt you. I mean, you know, other than cutting you into little pieces and chewing you up and swallowing you—but you know that was all done out of love.