The oyster sliders may get all of the attention at the Dutch, but the beet salad deserves a spotlight of its own.
While we don’t want to come out and claim that Andrew Carmellini has reinvigorated the beet salad — that sounds a little too much like self-parody — we will say that he’s done right by one of the salad family’s most abused members.
You won’t find any goat cheese or walnuts — toasted, candied, or otherwise — anywhere near these roasted beets, which boast the vibrant hues of a sunset over a polluted city. Instead, you’ll find celery shaved so thin as to be completely inoffensive; a scattering of crunchy pumpkin seeds; a hint of dill; tart, runny yogurt, which is puddled attractively around the beets and shot through with grassy olive oil; and a smoked hard-boiled egg.
It’s that egg that truly elevates mere vegetation to object of desire — those little puffs of smoke make it seem less salad and more vindicated chick-lit heroine.
131 Sullivan Street
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This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on July 27, 2011
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