In Season: Parsnips sing with other root veggiesIn Season: Parsnips sing with other root veggies

How to describe that ineffable parsnip flavor? It's aromatic, smelling of equal parts parsley and carrot, with something slightly sweet and musky that's all its own. Not everyone cares for parsnips because of their unusual taste, but they're missing the point in my opinion. Its unusual taste is what's intriguing about this root.

Parsnips are one of the wonderful root vegetables that come into season in October, along with rutabagas, salsify, carrots, turnips and potatoes. All these are just made to be cut into half-inch cubes, roasted in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes or until browned, caramelized, and concentrated in flavor, and then added to fall stews as the secret ingredient that welds all the other flavors - like lamb or beef dredged in flour and sautéed with a bottle of red wine - together.

About that red wine. If you're making your stew in a Dutch oven, the first thing you do is pour the bottle of wine into the empty pot and boil it with the lid off until it's reduced by at least one-third. Otherwise, the alcohol will be driven off during the roasting in the regular oven and explode.

Most of the unique flavor of a parsnip lies just under its skin, which gives an organic parsnip a great advantage over a conventionally-grown one: just wash it; you don't have to peel the root, and all that flavor is retained.

I disagree with the notion that parsnips are hard to pair with other foods. Parsnips sing baritone in the soprano-tenor-baritone-bass quartet of roasted root vegetables. Another pairing that's worthwhile is parsnips poached in coconut milk. Poach quartered roots in the milk until almost tender, then finish by sautéing them in a little butter with a pinch of salt, and at the end add a splash of coconut milk from the poaching liquid and reduce it until it glazes the roots.

Some people advocate grating parsnips raw into salads, but I find them chewy and odd in a salad. Some people French-fry parsnips and rutabagas and even carrot sticks in hot oil, or make chips out of them, as in potato chips. Frying doesn't really improve the flavor of these root crops. When you pick up a parsnip fry, your expectation is to taste a potato fry, and the difference is off-putting.

Try parboiling the roots, then finishing them by baking, braising, breading, and sautéing in butter, pureeing, steaming or grilling. Or boil one-part parsnips to two parts potatoes, then mash them with milk, butter, and salt. This works well with turnips or rutabagas, too.

Besides those uses, parsnips' sweetness makes a fine contrast with the other four tastes: sour, salty, bitter, and umami. The musky flavor pairs with fellow umbelliferous plants such as chervil, dill, and parsley. It also goes with nutmeg, oranges, butter, and nuts like almonds, hazelnuts, and walnuts.

The name parsnip has an interesting etymology. The botanical Latin name for the genus, Pastinaca, comes from the Latin word pastinare, which means “that which is dug up,” and originally referred to both parsnips and carrots. By passing through French, the root pas- acquired an “r” to make it pars-. The “-nip” suffix is from Anglo-Saxon naep which in turn descended from Latin napus, meaning a root crop; hence we also have turnip, and in Scandinavia and Scotland, rutabagas are neeps.

Cold weather and light frosts will turn some of the root's starch to sugar, and therefore parsnips are at their best from October to December or January.

If you grow them, they'll keep perfectly well in the ground through the winter but harvest them before they wake up in the spring because they are biennials, and as soon as they start spring growth, their cores turn woody and fibrously tough. That's good to remember when you're looking over parsnips at the farmers markets in the spring. Make sure they're dormant, firm, white, undamaged and of medium size, rather than super large.

Parsnips are nutritious. A half cup of boiled, sliced root gives you 6 percent of your daily magnesium, 12 percent of your vitamin C, 11 percent of folic acid, and 8 percent of the daily potassium requirement.

The last time parsnips were in vogue was the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In 1898, the Fanny Farmer cookbook advised readers to boil and mash parsnips with butter, salt, and pepper, then make small cakes from them, dredge them in flour, and sauté them in butter.

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Teamed with Brussels sprouts and chestnuts, parsnips sautéed this way are a fine accompaniment to roasted fowl or pork. All three vegetables are at their quality peak simultaneously. Parsnips and chestnuts have a natural affinity for one another not only because they peak in the same season, but also because both have a natural sweetness. When prepping your parsnips, take care to remove the inner core (especially if you want to sauté them); the core takes a lot longer to cook than the surrounding flesh.

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Sauté of Parsnips, Chestnuts and Brussels Sprouts

Makes 4 servings

15 fresh chestnuts

1 carrot, cut into 1-inch chunks

1 stalk celery, chopped into 1-inch pieces

1 cup chicken stock

1 pound fresh parsnips

1/2 pint Brussels sprouts

1 tablespoon olive oil

- Salt and fresh ground black pepper to taste

1 tablespoon chopped Italian parsley

Peel chestnuts by scoring the outer skin. Place in cold water and bring water to a boil for a minute. Remove chestnuts from hot water and when cool enough, peel off husks. If the chestnuts are fresh this should pose very little problem.

Cook chestnuts in chicken stock with carrot, celery, salt, and pepper, until the vegetables are just tender. Remove from heat and reserve.

Cut parsnips into long batons, removing the tough inner core. Halve Brussels sprouts, or if they are very small, you may leave them whole.

Lightly oil a sauté pan and heat to medium. Add parsnips and Brussels sprouts and sauté, covered, turning vegetables from time to time until they begin to turn pale gold in spots and cook through. You may add a little of the chicken stock to the pan to facilitate the cooking process and prevent over-browning.

About halfway through the process, add the chestnuts so that they can heat through and pick up color. Season with salt and pepper. Toss with chopped parsley.

Jeff Cox is a Kenwood-based food and garden writer. Reach him at jeffcox@sonic.net

How to describe that ineffable parsnip flavor? It's aromatic, smelling of equal parts parsley and carrot, with something slightly sweet and musky that's all its own. Not everyone cares for parsnips because of their unusual taste, but they're missing the point in my opinion. Its unusual taste is what's intriguing about this root.

Parsnips are one of the wonderful root vegetables that come into season in October, along with rutabagas, salsify, carrots, turnips and potatoes. All these are just made to be cut into half-inch cubes, roasted in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes or until browned, caramelized, and concentrated in flavor, and then added to fall stews as the secret ingredient that welds all the other flavors - like lamb or beef dredged in flour and sautéed with a bottle of red wine - together.

About that red wine. If you're making your stew in a Dutch oven, the first thing you do is pour the bottle of wine into the empty pot and boil it with the lid off until it's reduced by at least one-third. Otherwise, the alcohol will be driven off during the roasting in the regular oven and explode.

Most of the unique flavor of a parsnip lies just under its skin, which gives an organic parsnip a great advantage over a conventionally-grown one: just wash it; you don't have to peel the root, and all that flavor is retained.

I disagree with the notion that parsnips are hard to pair with other foods. Parsnips sing baritone in the soprano-tenor-baritone-bass quartet of roasted root vegetables. Another pairing that's worthwhile is parsnips poached in coconut milk. Poach quartered roots in the milk until almost tender, then finish by sautéing them in a little butter with a pinch of salt, and at the end add a splash of coconut milk from the poaching liquid and reduce it until it glazes the roots.

Some people advocate grating parsnips raw into salads, but I find them chewy and odd in a salad. Some people French-fry parsnips and rutabagas and even carrot sticks in hot oil, or make chips out of them, as in potato chips. Frying doesn't really improve the flavor of these root crops. When you pick up a parsnip fry, your expectation is to taste a potato fry, and the difference is off-putting.

Try parboiling the roots, then finishing them by baking, braising, breading, and sautéing in butter, pureeing, steaming or grilling. Or boil one-part parsnips to two parts potatoes, then mash them with milk, butter, and salt. This works well with turnips or rutabagas, too.

Besides those uses, parsnips' sweetness makes a fine contrast with the other four tastes: sour, salty, bitter, and umami. The musky flavor pairs with fellow umbelliferous plants such as chervil, dill, and parsley. It also goes with nutmeg, oranges, butter, and nuts like almonds, hazelnuts, and walnuts.

The name parsnip has an interesting etymology. The botanical Latin name for the genus, Pastinaca, comes from the Latin word pastinare, which means “that which is dug up,” and originally referred to both parsnips and carrots. By passing through French, the root pas- acquired an “r” to make it pars-. The “-nip” suffix is from Anglo-Saxon naep which in turn descended from Latin napus, meaning a root crop; hence we also have turnip, and in Scandinavia and Scotland, rutabagas are neeps.

Cold weather and light frosts will turn some of the root's starch to sugar, and therefore parsnips are at their best from October to December or January.

If you grow them, they'll keep perfectly well in the ground through the winter but harvest them before they wake up in the spring because they are biennials, and as soon as they start spring growth, their cores turn woody and fibrously tough. That's good to remember when you're looking over parsnips at the farmers markets in the spring. Make sure they're dormant, firm, white, undamaged and of medium size, rather than super large.

Parsnips are nutritious. A half cup of boiled, sliced root gives you 6 percent of your daily magnesium, 12 percent of your vitamin C, 11 percent of folic acid, and 8 percent of the daily potassium requirement.

The last time parsnips were in vogue was the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In 1898, the Fanny Farmer cookbook advised readers to boil and mash parsnips with butter, salt, and pepper, then make small cakes from them, dredge them in flour, and sauté them in butter.

_____

Teamed with Brussels sprouts and chestnuts, parsnips sautéed this way are a fine accompaniment to roasted fowl or pork. All three vegetables are at their quality peak simultaneously. Parsnips and chestnuts have a natural affinity for one another not only because they peak in the same season, but also because both have a natural sweetness. When prepping your parsnips, take care to remove the inner core (especially if you want to sauté them); the core takes a lot longer to cook than the surrounding flesh.

Sauté of Parsnips, Chestnuts and Brussels Sprouts

Makes 4 servings

15 fresh chestnuts

1 carrot, cut into 1-inch chunks

1 stalk celery, chopped into 1-inch pieces

1 cup chicken stock

1 pound fresh parsnips

1/2 pint Brussels sprouts

1 tablespoon olive oil

- Salt and fresh ground black pepper to taste

1 tablespoon chopped Italian parsley

Peel chestnuts by scoring the outer skin. Place in cold water and bring water to a boil for a minute. Remove chestnuts from hot water and when cool enough, peel off husks. If the chestnuts are fresh this should pose very little problem.

Cook chestnuts in chicken stock with carrot, celery, salt, and pepper, until the vegetables are just tender. Remove from heat and reserve.

Cut parsnips into long batons, removing the tough inner core. Halve Brussels sprouts, or if they are very small, you may leave them whole.

Lightly oil a sauté pan and heat to medium. Add parsnips and Brussels sprouts and sauté, covered, turning vegetables from time to time until they begin to turn pale gold in spots and cook through. You may add a little of the chicken stock to the pan to facilitate the cooking process and prevent over-browning.

About halfway through the process, add the chestnuts so that they can heat through and pick up color. Season with salt and pepper. Toss with chopped parsley.

Jeff Cox is a Kenwood-based food and garden writer. Reach him at jeffcox@sonic.net