Velvet under ground Chefs and homecooks alike transform underappreciated roots into silken soups and savory sides

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Roots get a bad rap. Think about it. Everyone always wants to get to the root of the problem; rarely does anyone get to the root of the solution. No one ever says “the stem of all evil.” It’s always the root.
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Roots get a bad rap.

Think about it. Everyone always wants to get to the root of the problem; rarely does anyone get to the root of the solution. No one ever says “the stem of all evil.” It’s always the root.

Then there are the much-maligned root vegetables, which have suffered from years of overcooking and underseasoning. They have faced boiling to the point of disintegration. They have withstood mashing beyond recognition. And yet, they endure.

“People would cook them so long that none of the flavor would be left,” said Brooke Dojny, a cookbook author and Bon Appetit columnist who summers in Sedgwick. “Now there’s been a whole turnaround and people are suddenly finding their appeal again. People can actually taste them.”

Five years ago, it was rare to find turnips or parsnips on the menu of many fine-dining establishments. Now, chefs such as Sam Hayward of Fore Street in Portland, Tom Gutow of The Castine Inn and Melissa Kelly of Primo in Rockland offer such dishes as braised short ribs with carrots and turnips or lobster salad with beets.

They have reinvented the mushy, stinky root vegetables of yore. On their tables you’ll find pan-roasted turnip wedges, creamy rutabaga soup, scorzonera – a long, thin root with the texture of coconut – shaved over a salad of endive and chicory. They find beauty in the homely celery root and intrigue in the earthy sweetness of a beet.

“Because chefs know how to cook them, people are rediscovering their virtues and starting to cook them at home more,” Dojny said.

There are plenty to explore, too. In addition to the standard carrots, beets, rutabagas and turnips, cooks can also experiment with winter white carrots; celeriac or celery root, a bulbous, rooty cousin of celery; scorzonera, or black salsify root; parsnips; giant Daikon radishes; black, purple and white winter radishes; or sunchokes, the root of the sunflower plant.

“We use a ton of roots,” Hayward said by phone late last fall. “We’re committed to using local stuff, and this is the time of year that traditional Maine farmers reverted to these homey root vegetables.”

Though many are at their prime when they are dug in the spring or fall, the beauty of root vegetables is that they keep through the winter. In Maine, several farmers work year-round to supply restaurants and markets with fresh vegetables, but even if you don’t have access to fresh roots, the flavor won’t fade significantly. Look for smaller roots, which tend to have a more concentrated, sweeter flavor.

“Root vegetables were eaten in considerably larger quantities in New England … because of the short growing season,” Dojny said. “Fresh things like peas and broccoli and spinach were completely unavailable, so people would keep the roots over the winter, haul them out and eat them in February, even if they were harvested in October.”

Hayward said the key is to serve them in a way that preserves their freshness and enhances their flavor. You don’t need to prepare them elaborately. Hayward suggests adding turnips, parsnips or carrots when braising veal or venison shanks. He said scorzonera tastes great cut in long, thin diagonal slices, stir-fried with onion, good olive oil, salt and pepper.

When Gutow cooks turnips at The Castine Inn, he prefers to use the hakurei variety, which looks like a white ping-pong ball with a purple top. It’s so sweet that it can be served raw as a crudite. He suggests adding brown sugar or honey to any turnip variety to balance its tartness.

“People say ‘I hate turnips,’ but if you balance the sweet-sour component, maybe you’d like them a little bit more,” he said.

One of Hayward’s favorite dishes plays the sweetness of parsnips against savory herbs and eggplant. To make it, preheat your oven to 375 degrees F. Slice globe eggplant 3/4-inch thick, cover with salt and let it sit. Peel and slice parsnips thinly on the bias. (Amounts will vary depending on the size of your baking dish.

Brush salt off eggplant and brush with olive oil. Season parsnips with olive oil, salt and pepper. In a round baking dish or tinned copper casserole, layer eggplant and parsnips, placing chopped fresh oregano, savory and rosemary between each layer. Cover dish and bake for 35-40 minutes, until the center of the parsnips is tender (check with toothpick).

If you’d like a sauce, cut several plum tomatoes in half, combine with white wine vinegar, salt and pepper. Saute mixture in olive oil until tender, pass through a fine sieve and spoon on top of eggplant and parsnips.

Hayward said cooks shouldn’t fall into the trap of preparing roots the only way they know how, usually boiled and mashed. Just use your instincts and try not to undercook them, which leaves them fibrous, or overcook them, which releases smelly gas in some varieties and drains the flavor from all of them.

“There’s no substitute for using your senses and using your common sense when cooking new root vegetables,” Hayward said. “They all ought to be explored.”

Ivy League Beets

with Orange Sauce

This twist on the traditional recipe for Harvard beets comes from “The New England Cookbook” by Brooke Dojny

1/2 cup sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch

6 tablespoons cider vinegar

1/2 cup orange juice

3 cups diced or sliced cooked beets (use 11/2 pounds fresh beets or 2 15-ounce cans, drained)

1/2 teaspoon grated orange zest

salt and fresh-ground black pepper

2 tablespoons butter

Whisk together the sugar and cornstarch in a heavy medium-sized saucepan. Gradually whisk in the vinegar and orange juice. Place over medium-high heat and bring to a boil, stirring. Cook for 2-3 minutes, until the sauce is thick and bubbly.

Add the beets and stir in the orange zest. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until heated through. Season with salt and pepper. Just before serving, cut the butter into pieces and stir in until it melts.

New Hampshire Spring-Dug Parsnip Puree

From “The New England Cookbook” by Brooke Dojny

2 pounds parsnips, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut in chunks

1/2 cup half-and-half

Tiny pinch of ground mace or nutmeg

Salt and fresh-ground black pepper

Cook the parsnips in a large pot of boiling salted water until they are very tender, about 20 minutes. Drain in a colander, return to the pot and place over very low heat until the parsnips are quite dry, 1 minute or so.

Transfer to a food processor or leave in the pot to mash. Add the butter and half-and-half and process or mash with a potato masher or electric mixer to make a fairly smooth puree. Season with mace or nutmeg and salt and pepper to taste.

Transfer to a serving dish and serve.

Note: The puree can be made ahead and reheated in the microwave.

Sam Hayward’s Turnip Wedges

Note: Many vendors in Maine label rutabagas as turnips, but they are not the same. Turnips have white flesh and cream-colored skin with purple on one end. Rutabagas, which are thought to be a cross between a cabbage and a turnip, look similar, though the flesh and skin have a tan cast to them.

6 to 16 ounces vegetable stock (depending on the width of your skillet)

2 pounds small turnips

2 tablespoons butter

Squirt of fresh lemon

Trim ends of turnips but leave them unpeeled. Cut into wedges.

Melt butter in a skillet, cover bottom with turnip wedges and pour in enough vegetable stock to coat the bottom of the skillet, but not enough to submerge the turnips. Season to taste with lemon, salt and pepper.

Cover and bring to quick boil (2-3 minutes). Remove cover, saute, and cook until butter runs clear.

Cook turnips in now-clear oil until they’re lightly browned.

Sam Hayward’s

Rutabaga Soup

Note: Hayward prefers the heirloom variety rutabagas with white flesh. If you can’t find these, regular rutabagas will work. Celery root and apples can be substituted for the rutabaga. Chicken stock can be replaced with vegetable or mushroom broth. You can eliminate the cream, but the soup won’t be nearly as rich or flavorful. Don’t substitute milk – it will break while boiling.

1 rutabaga

1 medium carrot, diced

1 celery stalk, diced

1 medium onion, diced

1 leek, diced

olive oil

1 clove garlic, slivered

fresh thyme, parsley, sage, bay leaf

10-12 cracked peppercorns

1 cup sweet cider

1 quart chicken stock

1/2 cup heavy cream

Fresh bread cut into thick slices

Clean rutabaga, cut into cubes and remove porous parts. In a soup pot, briefly saute diced carrots, celery, onion and leek in olive oil. Add garlic and saute until tender but not brown. Add peppercorns, fresh thyme, parsley, sage and bay leaf. When vegetables are tender but not brown, add rutabaga. Cover and cook over medium heat until rutabaga begins to take on the aroma of the vegetables, about 4 to 5 minutes.

Add cider, chicken stock and heavy cream. Bring to a quick boil, reduce to a simmer, cover and simmer until rutabaga is tender all the way through, about 10 to 15 minutes.

Put an immersion blender in the soup pot and coarsely puree. (If you don’t have one, a regular blender will work on the low setting). Pass through a coarse strainer. Check seasoning and season to taste.

Take bread slices, brush with olive oil and lightly toast in the oven.

Place bread in the bottom of a bowl and ladle soup on top.


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