Sophie Grigson - Vegetables

The trouble with this, of course, is that nice, neat, scrubbed parsnips will begin to disappoint. Nothing to be done about that. If you can’t buy them dirty, buy them clean and be sure to pick out roots that are firm and not too heavily blemished. They’ll keep for a few days, but not as long as carrots, I find. Flabby, aged parsnips are not only dull in taste, but also a complete pain to prepare. Put them in the compost bin and vow not to forget about good parsnips again.

I like my parsnips peeled, but with organic ones this is not strictly necessary, especially if you have very small parsnips that can be cooked whole. What is necessary with sizeable parsnips is the disposal of the woody core. Cut the fatter parts of the parsnips in quarters lengthways and lop out the white heart – another candidate for the compost bin – before cooking.

Most recipes for parsnips begin with a spell in boilingwater (just long enough to soften, but not so long that they go mushy) but after that they will almost certainly demand something more. ‘Kind words butter no parsnips’ is an old saying, distinctly out of vogue in the 21st century when kind words are considered essential to the development of children, dogs and houseplants. But way back when it was heard tripping from the tongues of the wise and wealthy, toughness was an altogether more praiseworthy quality for training the young and the wayward. The point here is the essential buttering of those parsnips. There is no debate on this issue. Parsnips, lovely vegetables that they are, are magically enhanced by lashings of butter or good oil, or dripping, or cream: butter on boiled parsnips, cream and/or butter in mashed parsnips, goose fat or oil and a touch of butter for roast parsnips.

The soft, starchy nature of parsnips makes them candidates for any sort of mashingor puréeing. Straight parsnip mash is perhaps too intensely sweet for most tastes – I find it nicer mashed with, say, half the volume of cooked potatoes, as well, of course, as butter, milk or cream, salt and a heavy dose of freshly grated nutmeg, or a few pinches of cinnamon. Parsnip and potato mash makes a fine topping for old-fashioned cottage, shepherd’s or fish pie.

Alternatively, you could puréethe parsnip with plenty of thick béchamel sauce, again softening the total parsnip essence. This mixture can be turned into a gratinof sorts, by mixing in an egg or two, spreading out thickly in an ovenproof dish, scattering the top with freshly grated Parmesan mixed with equal quantities of breadcrumbs plus a few dots of butter and then sliding the whole lot into a hot oven to cook until browned and bubbling. Very good indeed.

Parsnip soupsare terrific too, made along classic soup lines, pepped up with curry (see recipes) or with fresh root ginger, cut half in half with apple or pear, or aromatised with lemon thyme. Croûtons or crisp grilled bacon or pancetta are excellent with parsnip soups.

My mother occasionally treated us to Saratoga chips. ‘Saratoga chips’ was the original name for potato crisps, supposedly invented by a disgruntled chef in the town of Saratoga, but my mother’s Saratoga chips were proper British chips, made with parsnip. Great name, great treat. Parboil ‘chips’ of parsnip, being really, really attentive so that they don’t overcook to a pap. Drain well and dry, then deep-fry until golden brown and serve sprinkled with grains of salt. So good. Parsnip frittersare pretty appealing too – again parboil pieces of parsnip, then dip into either a beer batter or a tempura batter and deep-fry until crisp and golden brown. Serve with wedges of lemon, and salt flavoured with crushed toasted cumin. For a smarter starter fritter, cube par-cooked parsnip and stir into the beer batter along with roughly chopped small shelled prawns or shrimps, then fry spoonfuls in hot oil until golden brown.

I often add parsnips to stews, just 20 minutes or so before the stew finishes cooking so that they have time to absorb some of the flavours, but not so long that they collapse. They are good in a chicken stew, but even better in an earthy beef stew.

And finally, try baking a parsnip cake– replace the carrots with grated parsnips in the recipe on page 28. You’ll be amazed at how good the cake is, and you can keep your family and friends guessing the mystery ingredient for hours.

Tortilla night at Hacienda Grigson, but madre mia, no beans to refry!!! And then we thought – wait a moment, hold on, but wouldn’t the starchy texture of parsnips work rather well as a substitute? And you know what, they were better than a mere substitute, bringing a welcome new vigour to what has become one of my family’s favourite suppers.

The parsnips, incidentally, can be cooked and mashed with their spices and onion way before they are needed, then gently reheated just before serving. The salsa positively benefits from being made an hour or so in advance, leaving time for the flavours to meld and develop.

Serves 4

750g (1lb 10oz) parsnips

2 teaspoons cumin seeds

1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 small onion, chopped

1 clove garlic, crushed

salt and pepper

Salsa

250g (9 oz) sweet tomatoes, deseeded and finely chopped

1 shallot, finely chopped

1 clove garlic, crushed

1–2 red chillies, deseeded and finely chopped

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

2 tablespoons chopped coriander leaves

juice of 1 lime

To serve

8 corn tortillas

125g (41/2 oz) feta cheese, crumbled

6 crisp young lettuce leaves, shredded

pickled jalapeño chillies

1 avocado, peeled, sliced and tossed in a little extra lime juice

150ml (5floz) soured cream

For the salsa, merely mix all the ingredients together, then set aside at room temperature.

Prepare the parsnips as normal and cut into big chunks. Bring a pan of water to the boil (not too big, please) and stir in half the cumin seeds, all the turmeric and some salt. Now add the parsnip pieces and cook until tender. Drain, reserving some of the cooking water.

Heat the olive oil in a frying pan and fry the onion with the garlic and remaining cumin seeds until tender. Pile in the parsnips and, as they sizzle in the oil, mash them up roughly with a large fork. After about 3–4 minutes, add 3 tablespoons of the cooking water to moisten them, and carry on frying and mashing for a few more minutes until you end up with a thick, fragrant, rough mash, golden and appetising.

Just before serving, wrap the corn tortillas in foil and heat through in a low oven, or alternatively wrap in clingfilm and heat through in the microwave (check packet for timings). Put all the other extras into separate bowls and place them on the table, along with the salsa. Spoon the parsnips into a bowl and place on the table along with the hot tortillas.

It’s all ready to go now. Each diner takes a tortilla and adds a big spoonful of parsnip mash, spreading it roughly down the diameter of the tortilla, then tops it with as much cheese, salsa, lettuce, extra chillies, avocado and soured cream as they fancy. Then that lucky person just rolls it all up and takes a great big bite.