This salad. This beetroot salad. It’s not polite or neat or particularly eager to please—and maybe that’s the whole point. The roasted beets come out of the oven like little purple meteors, soft enough to yield under your fingers, still hot, slightly steaming. And then there’s the capers, those salty little brutes, bursting through the sweet earthy mess like they’ve got something to prove.
I made it on a damp Sunday, when all I wanted was something alive. Something not beige. This did it. Inspired by Jamie Oliver, of course.
Ingredients Needed
For the soul of it:
- About 12 to 15 beets, two big bunches—roughly 600g each
- 5 tablespoons of olive oil (but you’ll use it in stages, not all at once)
- 3 tablespoons of baby capers, rinsed of their brine-y punch
- 4 red onions, hacked into chunky wedges
- 4 garlic cloves, smashed and minced
- A decent 125ml splash of white wine
For the green chaos:
- A handful each of dill, mint, flat-leaf parsley—chopped, not too fussy
- The leafy tops and stalks from the beets, don’t throw them
- Two bags (75g each) of watercress—peppery, wild, untamed
For the tangy slick:
- 3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
- 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
- 4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
- Salt and pepper (yeah, just taste it until it feels right)
How To Make Jamie Oliver Roasted Beetroot Salad
- Started with the oven—180°C. While it warmed, I hacked the scruffy roots off the beets and scrubbed them like potatoes from your childhood garden. Left them whole. Into a baking dish with a couple glugs of olive oil and just enough water to dampen the bottom. Foil on top, into the heat. Forgot about them for a bit. Somewhere between an hour and 90 minutes later, they were done. You’ll know. A knife slides in with zero protest.
- Meanwhile. The onions got their turn. Wedges spread across a tray. Salt, pepper, more oil. In they went. Thirty-ish minutes—until edges singed and they smelled like fall.
- Once the beets were cool (ish), I rubbed off their skins. Like peeling off old paint. Deep red hands. Cut them into bitey pieces. Blanched the greens for a flash—just two minutes in boiling salted water. Then drained. They went from bitter to brilliant in that moment.
- Garlic time. Hot pan, last of the oil. Garlic first—sizzle, almost burn, then the wine to hush it. Ten-minute simmer, just enough. In with the beet greens. They softened, darkened, took on the garlic like an old friend.
- The dressing, Quick whisk job. Balsamic, Dijon, oil, salt, pepper. Sharp enough to make you blink, smooth enough to pull everything together.
- Assembly wasn’t graceful. Tossed the roasted beet chunks, the now-sweet onions, the garlic greens, the capers that still kicked like little pickled bombs, and the herbs. Big handfuls. A chaotic mess that worked. Poured the dressing. Stirred with my hands. Watercress—last second—just flung on top.

Why I Love This Recipe
I made it once and it haunted me. The kind of thing that looks like it belongs in a fancy restaurant, but feels like dirt under your nails. Shared it with friends who didn’t even like beets. They changed their minds. Something about the way the acid, sweetness, and bitterness tangle… it’s almost too much. Almost. But then you take another bite.
Recipe Tips
- Whole beets = magic. Don’t cut them first. Roast them like ancient root vegetables should be roasted.
- Herbs die fast. Chop them right before you need them.
- Salt everything. Not like a truckload. But don’t be shy. Your tongue will know.
- Let things cool. Not fridge cold. Just enough so it doesn’t wilt your beautiful greens.
- The vinaigrette is your exclamation point. Don’t drown it. Just enough to coat, to tease.
How To Store This Jamie Oliver Roasted Beetroot Salad
- Room Temp: Don’t leave it out too long. It’s got fresh stuff in it. Maybe an hour or two max. Then tuck it away.
- In the Fridge: Sure. Airtight container. Three days if you’re lucky. Watercress might flop. Just pick it off and add fresh next time.
- Freezer: Nope. Don’t even. The beets go weird and the herbs are a sad, soggy shadow of their former selves.
- Reheating: Honestly, Don’t. This isn’t a heat-up kind of dish. Let it come to room temp and enjoy the way it was meant to be.
Let’s Answer a Few Questions! (FAQs)
Can I throw in nuts or seeds?
Yes. Toasted walnuts or pumpkin seeds are golden here. Add them last.
How do you even peel roasted beets?
Just use your fingers. Rub the skins off like you’re revealing treasure. Gloves if you’re fussy. Or not.
Can I roast the beets the day before?
You should. It saves time and they taste better cold, weirdly.
No fresh herbs—what then?
Dried works. Half the amount. Taste and adjust. But fresh is better. Always.
Cheese—yay or nay?
Feta. Goat cheese. A little crumble on top. Makes it creamy, salty, rich. Yes.
Nutrition Facts (per serving)
- Calories: about 339
- Carbs: 26g
- Protein: 6.2g
- Fat: 19.6g
- Sugar: 21.5g
- Fibre: 7g
- Sodium: 420mg
More Jamie Oliver Recipe:
Jamie Oliver Roasted Beetroot Salad
Course: SaladsCuisine: British8
servings30
minutes1
hour30
minutes339
kcalA wild, earthy salad with roasted beets, herbs, and bitey greens. Big flavors. Total chaos. Somehow, it all works.
Ingredients
12–15 beets (two 600g bunches)
5 tbsp olive oil (use in steps)
3 tbsp baby capers
4 red onions, cut into wedges
125ml white wine
Handfuls of fresh dill, mint, parsley
Beet leaves and stalks
2 bags (75g each) of watercress
3 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Salt & pepper
Directions
- 12–15 beets (two 600g bunches)
- 5 tbsp olive oil (use in steps)
- 3 tbsp baby capers
- 4 red onions, cut into wedges
- 4 garlic cloves, minced
- 125ml white wine
- Handfuls of fresh dill, mint, parsley
- Beet leaves and stalks
- 2 bags (75g each) of watercress
- 3 tbsp balsamic vinegar
- 1 tbsp Dijon mustard
- 4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- Salt & pepper
Notes
- Whole beets = magic. Don’t cut them first. Roast them like ancient root vegetables should be roasted.
- Herbs die fast. Chop them right before you need them.
- Salt everything. Not like a truckload. But don’t be shy. Your tongue will know.
- Let things cool. Not fridge cold. Just enough so it doesn’t wilt your beautiful greens.
- The vinaigrette is your exclamation point. Don’t drown it. Just enough to coat, to tease.