I remember she hated beets. No, she didn't hate anything, not even earthworms when they suddenly appeared in the scape of her gardening trowel. But she didn't like beets. She would usher them to the edge of the salad plate with the tines of her fork. She said they were too sweet.
Oddly, I've grown to like them. I eat them with raw onions and mustard dressing, but I don't suppose that I'm fooling anybody.
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