In the Pink

'YUCK, it tastes like soil,' was my mantra if anyone dare offer me beetroot.
And as mother and the boy piled their plates high with the ruby root I would contort my face and make retching sounds, scouring disapprovingly at their pink-stained tongues.
In my opinion, it was the (beet)root of all evil.
But then a fortnight ago, at a family barbecue, it suddenly started to wink cheekily at me as it lay elegantly sliced upon a platter.
Dubiously, I sneaked a few slithers onto the corner of my plate, hiding it under a lettuce leaf so that it would fall under the radar - after all, there were plenty of plant pots I could slide them into should the need arise.
Like a secret agent I went unnoticed as I slid a piece into my mouth, and - cue dimmed lights and cheesy music - there I fell in love. Oui, je t'aime.
Now I am nibbling on the stuff for fun. I feel like I've hooked up with an old pal and we are making up for lost time.
So far I've indulged in only the pre-cooked vacuum-packed variety, usually eating them whole from the packet, or sliced with salad if I am being classy.
What else can I do with this humble root? I know it sits well with goats' cheese, and lamb, but am unsure how to best prepare it. Your ideas please....
One problem. My new love has turned my number ones into pink Champagne!