Partial to parsnips
Simon Courtauld
While it may be a truth universally acknowledged that fine words butter no parsnips, I have to say that in my experience parsnips are seldom cooked in butter. Since I understood the saying to be attributed to Sir Walter Scott, it could be that buttered parsnips are, or were, popular north of the border. Further research. however, reveals that Scott was referring to 'a Southern proverb' and that the expression (with 'faire' instead of 'fine') was in use in the first half of the 17th century. Perhaps Dot Wordsworth will have something more to say on the matter.
The parsnip is a quintessentially British vegetable, of ancient origin, which was known as pastenak (a corruption of the Latin pastinaca) in mediaeval times. But it has never been as widely enjoyed in the rest of Europe. The French use it only to flavour soups and stocks — Larousse gives it three dismissive lines — and it is quite a surprise to learn that they have actually got
a word for parsnip (panais). In Italy they feed parsnips to the pigs of Parma in order to sweeten their ham. However, in the New World parsnips, having reached the east coast of America soon after the Mayflower, were grown by the native Indians (who also discovered and cultivated what we now know as Jerusalem artichokes); and Americans have long been partial to them.
But they are not universally popular in our kitchens. It has always slightly mystified me that some people, while expressing a liking for root vegetables, will go on to say 'except parsnips'. Is it their sweetness, or flouriness, or nutty flavour which is objectionable, or is it that, as suggested by a friend who normally tucks into everything put in front of him, they have an odd aftertaste? I think that the taste depends on the size of the parsnips, how they are cooked, and at what time of year they are eaten.
As every gardener knows, parsnips should not be dug until they have had a good frost. But they have been available in shops since early autumn. Last week I came across 'brushed' parsnips, which have not been washed but instead put through brush rollers to get the worst of the soil off them. Some cuts and bruises to the vegetables may go unnoticed, but they are quite a bit cheaper than those that have been properly cleaned. Anyone growing their own parsnips would be well advised to lift, brush and store them before Christmas if the weather gets much colder.
Over the next three months parsnips are as important to a Sunday lunch of roast beef as are roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding and freshly grated horseradish sauce. The large ones will need their woody core removed, while smaller parsnips should simply be cut lengthways, parboiled unless they are very small and then cooked round the joint in the meat juices. Parsnips and carrots, both of them umbellifers, go well together in a purée, seasoned with nutmeg, which would have been enjoyed at many tables last week in the United States with the Thanksgiving turkey.
Pureed parsnip is also recommended with garlic and cream, or as the base for a soufflé. Like all root vegetables, parsnips make a delicious soup, with cream, croutons and perhaps a little chopped watercress added at the last minute. I remember once enjoying such a soup which contained a little curry powder, and I note that Delia Smith offers a curried parsnip and apple soup; also parsnip crisps which are perfectly acceptable with pre-luncheon drinks.
I have never had parsnips with fish, but have read somewhere that they used to be eaten with boiled salt cod on Ash Wednesday. Nor have I tried parsnip pudding, but there is an old recipe which involves mashing the parsnips, then adding sugar, grated lemon peel, brandy and beaten eggs. 'Turn into a pudding basin, sprinkle with breadcrumbs, tic down securely and boil for one hour. Serve with a sweet sauce.' Sounds bucolic enough to be washed down with a
glass of parsnip wine made, according to one recipe. with hops and dried yeast spread on toast. What about buttered parsnips, then? Mrs Beeton has a rather unappealing recipe for 'conservatively cooked' parsnips, steamed in butter before being simmered in boiling water. And they may be glazed, after boiling, by stirring them in butter, brown sugar and orange juice. But I don't know of any other recipes in which butter plays a significant role. Parsnips can be more successfully fried in batter, or egg and breadcrumbs, by immersing them in boiling oil — without a knob of butter in sight.
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