I'll be the first to admit it: There is nothing sexy about the word "turnip."
To me, it is evocative of bitterly cold winters, economic hardship, damp and moldy places, wartime . . . all decidedly unsexy things. But, as a lover of vegetables and one always striving to serve interesting foods to dinner guests, I chose to include this purple-tinged root on our Christmas 2009 menu. Had I been the only chef in our house, I would have roasted the turnips along with carrots, parsnips, and maybe some purple potatoes (another yet-to-be-worked-with food obsession of mine), and that would have been that. However, my executive chef (a k a father) was firmly opposed to this idea.
We compromised on the following recipe--and still, I'm not sure why I ever agreed to it, given my strong, anti-pureeing proclivities. Why humans ever decided to take a food, any food, with all its structural distinction and textural complexity, run it through a food processor, and render it baby-food-like in consistency is a mystery to me. More than just confounding, I find it annoying. Call me crazy, but I like to chew my food.
(As I pound out these words on my keyboard, I know this is not a universal food law in my life. I love all sorts of things that don't require any chewing whatsoever. Soups! Smoothies! Applesauce! Chocolate mousse! No teeth required! So maybe I can't justify why purees annoy the crap out of me. But they do. At least, until now.)
Given the anti-turnip and anti-puree biases I brought to the table, it's a wonder I could be so utterly in love with this recipe. It came together in what seemed like no time at all, required no expert kitchen skills, and is perfect for making in advance and later reheating. The end result was surprisingly elegant, subtly flavorful, delightfully silky . . . and definitely sexy.
Pureed turnips
Adapted from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman
Time: 45-55 minutes
Serves 5 or 6 as a side
1 1/2 lb. turnips
1 or 2 medium potatoes
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 Tbsp. olive oil
Parsley, dried or minced fresh, for garnish
1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, while working on the turnips and potatoes: wash, peel and cut into chunks of relatively equal size.
2. When water is boiling, salt it and add vegetables. Let water return to a boil, then lower it so that it gently bubbles. Cook vegetables until very tender, 20-30 minutes.
3. Drain vegetables, and transfer to the bowl of a food processor. Season with salt and pepper, add the oil, and process until extremely smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. (At this point, you can store puree in a tightly sealed container in the fridge. Before serving, warm in the microwave or on stove over low heat.) Serve hot, garnished with parsley.
To me, it is evocative of bitterly cold winters, economic hardship, damp and moldy places, wartime . . . all decidedly unsexy things. But, as a lover of vegetables and one always striving to serve interesting foods to dinner guests, I chose to include this purple-tinged root on our Christmas 2009 menu. Had I been the only chef in our house, I would have roasted the turnips along with carrots, parsnips, and maybe some purple potatoes (another yet-to-be-worked-with food obsession of mine), and that would have been that. However, my executive chef (a k a father) was firmly opposed to this idea.
We compromised on the following recipe--and still, I'm not sure why I ever agreed to it, given my strong, anti-pureeing proclivities. Why humans ever decided to take a food, any food, with all its structural distinction and textural complexity, run it through a food processor, and render it baby-food-like in consistency is a mystery to me. More than just confounding, I find it annoying. Call me crazy, but I like to chew my food.
(As I pound out these words on my keyboard, I know this is not a universal food law in my life. I love all sorts of things that don't require any chewing whatsoever. Soups! Smoothies! Applesauce! Chocolate mousse! No teeth required! So maybe I can't justify why purees annoy the crap out of me. But they do. At least, until now.)
Given the anti-turnip and anti-puree biases I brought to the table, it's a wonder I could be so utterly in love with this recipe. It came together in what seemed like no time at all, required no expert kitchen skills, and is perfect for making in advance and later reheating. The end result was surprisingly elegant, subtly flavorful, delightfully silky . . . and definitely sexy.
Pureed turnips
Adapted from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman
Time: 45-55 minutes
Serves 5 or 6 as a side
1 1/2 lb. turnips
1 or 2 medium potatoes
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 Tbsp. olive oil
Parsley, dried or minced fresh, for garnish
1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, while working on the turnips and potatoes: wash, peel and cut into chunks of relatively equal size.
2. When water is boiling, salt it and add vegetables. Let water return to a boil, then lower it so that it gently bubbles. Cook vegetables until very tender, 20-30 minutes.
3. Drain vegetables, and transfer to the bowl of a food processor. Season with salt and pepper, add the oil, and process until extremely smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. (At this point, you can store puree in a tightly sealed container in the fridge. Before serving, warm in the microwave or on stove over low heat.) Serve hot, garnished with parsley.
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