Admittedly , turnipsare not sexy veg . No one in their right mind would ever describe them by such alluring term as juicy , colorful or yummy . Nor are you ever likely to hear someone wax poetic about their favorite white turnip variety like they do about their favorite heirloom Lycopersicon esculentum . They ’re turnips , for Pete ’s interest . Even the name is decidedly unsexy .
But while the humble turnip may strike shortsighted in the charisma department , it more than makes up for it in relish . Particularly this time of twelvemonth . You see , much like carrot , turnips are sweetened by Jack Frost ’s arrival , and with a couple of candy kiss from him , that humble turnip you once turned your puerility nozzle up at becomes an entirely unlike animate being . In fact , amount fall , the turnip is the Cinderella of the garden — shift from rag to riches with just a few small dips of the Hg .
Here ’s the thing : I know what you ’re believe . You ’re thinking that you ’ve tried turnip in the past and you just did n’t care them . To you , my skeptical reader , I need the following questions :
1. Was the turnip you ate a homegrown turnip?
If it was store purchase , it does n’t weigh . That ’s like saying you do n’t care tomatoes when all you ’ve ever consume is one of those composition board pith - fests from the grocery store . Or you do n’t like asparagus when all you ’ve ever swallowed is a soppy , army - green spear straight out of a can . I put frost - kissed turnip in the same category as sun - warmed tomatoes and newly - picked asparagus . And that family is : Awesome .
2. Was the turnip you ate pulled out of the soil the same day it was picked?
While turnips are noted for their foresightful - termstorability , fresh reap turnips have the best flavor , in my view . When they ’ve been stored on the grocery shelf , or even in a root cellar , for more than just a few day , the flavor is n’t as sweet . Once the roots dry out , the texture changes , too . So I say , pull ’em out of the grease and take ’em straight to the kitchen .
If you require to keep the roots for wintertime use , do n’t store them inwardly or even in the electric refrigerator . Instead , stash away them right in the garden . Mulch your turnips with a thick layer of straw and brood the area with charge plate . When you ’re quick to reap , brush off the snow , draw out up the plastic , scoot the mulch to the side , and jerk up a distich roots .
3. Was the turnip you ate picked while it was smaller than a tennis ball?
Much likebeetsand rutabagas — don’t get me started on swede … they ’re another Cinderella of the garden — turnips smack way better when they ’re belittled than your clenched fist . If they get too braggart , the grain gets woody and their sweetness decease bye - bye . What all this means is that for the best consequence , you should plant your turnip seed about 50 Clarence Shepard Day Jr. before your first nightfall Robert Frost is expect . The roots will reach the perfect size just when icing hits . Viola !
4. Was the turnip you ate cooked properly?
Like most Cinderella narration , readying plays a key role , and the white turnip ’s tale is no different . With a flavor I ’d name as mellow , buttery and down-to-earth , a frost - kissed turnip picked at its prime can be the belle of the ball . But all that marvelous spirit is easy spoiled by a clueless chef . Do experiment with different recipe , but do n’t ignore the fact that round-eyed preparation lend out the turnip ’s best smack . Try the roots boil and chat up with butter and browned leek , jest at in olive oil and dressed with diced bacon and crack smuggled pepper , or stewed in beef broth with carrots , onions , potatoes and Petroselinum crispum . You wo n’t be disappointed .
So , to all those turnip - hater out there , I say get over it . Sometimes there are unrivaled riches hidden beneath a whole bunch of unsexy .
