All Hail the Eastham Turnip – far be it for me to argue with that – photo courtesy the Cape Codder
This just may be the best week of the year for recipes and nostalgia…….
Could it be that there is an inverse relationship between your rating of vegetable sides and the amount of press it gets, both here and in the localized media? In this case, yes. But, when a newspaper captions its feature, “All Hail the Eastham Turnip.” you have to pay attention – and my writings of earlier this week gave me a bit of a guilty conscience.
Confession, I had started this post the day before I found this wonderful photo and its accompanying article. I hadn’t had time to finish up and time was getting away from me. But, when I found this particularly stately portrait primely featured in yesterday’s Cape Codder, it only confirmed for me that I had to finish this post. Here’s the article:
http://brewster.wickedlocal.com/article/20151120/NEWS/151129630/11473/NEWS
There are certain weeks and seasons of the year which are given over to great nostalgia. This week is one of them as we prepare for perhaps the most traditional of holidays, Thanksgiving. I wrote the other day about certain nostalgic memories and, afterward, felt a little like I had given this guy above short shrift, if not worse. In fact, as I have written here before, this prideful gem, which is the only way you can caption a photo such as this, is in fact one of the prized and most-popular items of the New England Thanksgiving table.
Let’s go back there once again and give him the notoriety that he deserves. After all, the tradition of Thanksgiving began not far at all from First Encounter Beach in Eastham, Ma…….
Ok, so earlier this week, I did indeed incorporate one member of the Brassica family in my post in a positive light and another in a not-so-positive light. I praised Jean-Georges’ treatment of delectably-slivered and butter-bathed brussels sprouts which are caressed in his truffled mashed potatoes and then made reference to some particularly stinky rutabagas that I have encountered. Now, I feel that wasn’t quite nice.
The Rutabaga is in fact a traditional dish on the Thanksgiving table in New England and I had been heretofore unindoctrinated until I became a member of a family born and reared in the Nutmeg State. Here was a dish whose visual and olfactory appeal stood apart from all others traditionally offered on most tables on the third Thursday of November. Or, so I thought. You don’t want to get into an argument about this with any New Englanders.
Now, to be fair, in that post on Tuesday, I also made reference to some other olfactory-offending dishes which appeared in my Mother’s kitchen as well. These typically took the form of various seafood dishes which I never warmed up to, which were from the Italian cuisine that my Dad, who, incidentally, had raised the term “picky” to an art form enjoyed and requested. My Dad also adored a small quantity of blue cheese, Gorgonzola, with fruit or prosciutto, which at the time I also found extremely suspect. As a child, I found the idea of eating mold somewhat counterintuitive, but I digress. (I have since reformed, and heartily so, in this regard).
Anyway, back to the turnip. My first Thanksgiving with my husband’s family occurred in 1977 and I was indeed happy to partake. For years we would spend the Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving circled around the kitchen table armed with peelers of every shape and efficacy and we peeled for a couple of hours. Nowadays, my husband continues to request a mashed turnip dish on our table when I am cooking this dinner at home, whether it be our pre-Thanksgiving home version or we are having the festivities elsewhere. I have acquiesced.
After the other day, I got to thinking, once again, about how one might balance out the stinky-factor of the humble turnip. I may not be able to sell any of these ideas to any Connecticut-based traditionalists here in my house, but the memory of that “odor” presses me forward to contemplate a few iterations here for anyone who may like to consider.
I feel that I must confirm here as well that in fact, where nostalgia is concerned, there is such a strong connecting element of the olfactory sense, that I would have to say that the people devoted to this vegetable actually identify positively with its aroma (notice I changed from odor). If I think about it, I am sure I could come up with a few foods for which this is true myself.
When I first went out to buy turnips at the grocery store years ago, I found this waxy odd-looking item somewhat of an affront. But, I pursued in a gracious way in order to maintain the comfort-quotient of the New England table on this most traditional of holidays. First came the challenge of trying to peel and cut the darned thing. Once this was handed over to the person with the most experience in our house, I happily acquiesced yet again and pretended my job here was done. But, no, I had to “go there” and think about how to make this dish more palatable – that is to my palate. Rest assured that to this day my kids want no part in this culinary offering…… I guess they didn’t get that particular Connecticut-based gene.
Anyway, you get the picture and so, as I sat down this morning to reconsider the dishes which could be concocted or, in more civilized terms, created here, I got to thinking first about fragrance, then texture and taste.
Ok, so beyond the nostalgia factor, in my book, the rutabaga could most surely benefit by the scent and perhaps overall helpfulness of orange, was my first thought. Of course, you can blend them, once softened and mashed (hours of cooking) with your mashed potatoes which are already adorned with the requisite cream, butter, roasted garlic, nutmeg and maybe even a hint of soft cheese…… But how about fennel? Would this fight with the rutabaga? How about a nice gratinéed crust of toasted almonds? How about the creaminess of the creams and butters….. how about some roasted shallots? Parsnips, carrots, sweet potatoes? Am I just looking to dissolve the personality of the rutabaga away from itself and have it become more or less unrecognizable? Maybe…….
Now, as I said, I have to consider here that there are those devotees who actually look forward to that somewhat acrid and irreplaceable fragrance, taste and texture, just as it is. But, for those who prefer the aromas of roasting turkey to be forward, vs the quite assertive “fragrance” of a boiling rutabaga, well, I am going to carry on here.
First, you can cook the turnip the day ahead. This will eliminate the fighting scene of turnip aroma vs the turkey and other lovelies – pumpkin and apple pies, heady spices and baking brioche-based sweet potato rolls. So, if you are so inclined, do it ahead.
I think it is interesting to consider what other food items might have an affinity for the turnip. If you look around on the internet, you will find that the most popular coupling for this haughty- looking individual, is in fact one of my favorite of all fruits, the pear. If you read this blog on an ongoing basis or skim the archives, you will find that I do adore pears.
Yesterday, in fact I read this quote, which gave me pause for consideration (I know this post is not about pears, but…..):
Emerson once said “There are only ten minutes in the life of a pear when it is perfect to eat.”
Well, that’s a little extreme but I get the sentiment. Pin-pointing peak pear flavor is tough and needs to be carefully calibrated. I always make sure I buy mine several days before using and have to warn certain family members (you know who you are) away from the fruit bowl in the interim. BTW, you might want to consider the absolutely gorgeous little item below, for your table next week if you are looking for a oooo and aahhhh showstopper: http://americas-table.com/food/pear-clafoutis/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=newsfeed&utm_content=pear+clafoutis&utm_campaign=food#sthash.IMlYS2O7.dpuf
photo courtesy America’s Table
So anyway, today I give, for the second time full press to the Eastham Turnip. If you haven’t ever incorporated one into your menu, give it a try. If you are a purist as my husbands family is, you can go it alone with the basic mashed turnip with milk and butter. But if you want to soften its indigenous flavor a bit and dress it up, you can try the pear-turnip combination. Add some nutmeg, roasted shallot, cream and the soft-spoken and nutty yet complimentary italian fontina if you dare. Top it with toasted pecans and a dressing of slivered orange peel or candied ginger. You might just make yourself a new classic. And, this is do-ahead, which makes it all the more desirable.
If Marian Burros can offer this up to the Times, then it’s worth a try. At the very least you can use this as a starting point. I am not sure I would have gone for Gorgonzola here, but I am sure she knows what she is doing. 🙂
http://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1487-turnip-puree-with-pears-and-cheese
I am suitably acquiesced. All hail the Eastham Turnip.
Note: If you can’t find an Eastham Turnip, which Cape Codders swear by, you can use a yellow turnip.
Ok, so here is one more suggestion for a palate-pleasing, if not cleansing dish for your table:
I would top with chopped, toasted hazelnuts
http://gourmandeinthekitchen.com/2013/celery-root-and-apple-salad/?utm_content=buffera274c&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer
and, perhaps the most likely to make it onto the final menu this year:
Image credit: Alanna Taylor Tobin | The Bojon Gourmet
http://bojongourmet.com/2015/11/herbed-kale-salad-with-persimmon-pomegranate-and-maple-cumin-dressing/
Does your menu keep getting longer? Mine does…….. Enjoy!
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