Parsnip

Whatever magic it may contain (and I certainly believe it does), honey is still sugar, and it seems extraordinary to add it to an already sweet root. But for some reason it works, bringing out the vegetable’s flavor and lending it a distinct depth. I can’t think of any better accompaniment to roast pork.

The tools for my winter gardening sessions tend to lie on the kitchen floor from one week to the next: the pruning knife, my leather-handled pruning shears, the largest of the two spades, the rake. They serve as a reminder that even though the garden may look crisp and neat from the window, there is still work to be done. It is during these cold, gray-sky days that I sometimes feel as if I live on soup. Roots—fat carrots, artichokes, and woody parsnips— are part of the lineup, along with onions and the occasional potato. I take much pleasure in the way something can be both earthy and velvety at the same time. Rather like my gardening gloves.

The thyme is essential here, adding an important herbal note to the general sugar-fest. You need something savory alongside, and nothing works quite so well as gloriously rare roast beef. Sausages come a close second.

I cook them in dripping or butter for preference. Peanut oil if there is nothing else. They take forty minutes to color interestingly but an hour will turn them into vegetable toffee. The initial steaming is worth the ten minutes’ wait and the pan to rinse and dry, helping as it does to keep them moist during the roasting and preventing them from toughening up in the heat.

Once the snowdrops are out and the buds on the trees start breaking, I have usually had enough of mashed, roasted, and baked roots and am gasping for the fresh greens of spring. As the root season draws to a close, I find a dish of parsnips and celery root, thinly sliced and slowly baked, makes a pleasant enough change. Sweet and yielding, this is both an accompaniment and a vegetable dish in its own right. I have used the quantities below as a main dish for two before now.

This savory mushroom dish is the vegetarian equivalent of a steak dinner. The rich taste and dense texture of the portobellos are complemented by creamy parsnips and lightly cooked greens.

Hearty winter root vegetables take well to long hours in the slow cooker. Turnips or rutabagas can be substituted for the parsnips in this easy slow-cooker classic. For a richer flavor, treat yourself to a bit of cream.

Pretty much everyone has a neighbor or friend (kind of a June Cleaver type) who loves to cook and also somehow manages to be a CEO and raise three Rhodes scholars while spending three hours a day (minimum) in the kitchen. This is the recipe you give that person when she says, “Oh, I’d so like to make something for you.” This is a labor of love, and while not quite as physically intensive as, say, coal mining, it takes a bit of effort. But it’s worth it, because the recipe is big enough to be made in ramekins so it can serve as six little meals, and it stores well, too.

This soup is very warming, and more filling than more common, very brothy miso soups.

(A chunky mélange of rutabaga, carrots, potatoes, and parsnips with a hint of cheese) This hearty soup makes use of a couple of underused winter vegetables—parsnips and rutabaga—to great results. Make sure you have a good, sharp knife for cutting the rutabaga.

Here’s another soothing, mild soup for cold weather. This is delicious with Garlic Croutons (page 159).

A vegetarian dish brimming with Indian flavors, this recipe reminds me of a meal I ate in a London restaurant after enjoying a rip-roaring rock musical in Soho. I hope you have as much fun eating this one as I did that night! For an even healthier meal, use parboiled and precooked brown rice (labeled “instant”) with the same amount of liquid.

This tangy dish has an unexpectedly sweet, zesty flavor that is a guaranteed crowd-pleaser. I love serving this to company and seeing their surprise when they discover that they’ve been enjoying turnips and parsnips—vegetables with undeserved bad reputations. Personally, I prefer to leave the skins of the potatoes, parsnips, and turnips on and simply scrub them well and remove any eyes or bad spots. I try to use organic produce whenever possible, particularly when using whole fruit. Peeling is always optional in an infused one-pot meal, as vegetable skins add many vital nutrients. On the other hand, I prefer to eat chicken without the skin.

The crockpot might just have been invented to turn out the most tender pot roast you’ve ever had. Slow cooking makes the meat and veggies here so delicious that you might want to keep the recipe on hand for when company is coming for dinner. We think it’s so special that we serve a version of this at The Lady & Sons. And if you make it in advance, this pot roast just keeps getting better. We eat this with Buttery Stone-Ground Grits (page 25) when we get together for a family dinner.

Either of these flavorful, earthy root vegetables blends with potatoes to make a beautiful accompaniment to so many saucy dishes. And what could be simpler? You cook the two together and mash them with a little butter and cream, and they’re ready.

Beautiful plump fish covered with a butterscotch-colored sauce on a bed of snow-white puree, this is a very subtle dish, in a good way. The ratio of honey to mustard to soy sauce is perfect: you get sweet and salty with a little bite to complement the mild fish. The whipped parsnips are smooth and just rich enough with butter and cream. Bok choy makes a crisp accompaniment.

Root vegetables are particularly forgiving when it comes to roasting times: Slightly undercooked and they have a little extra firmness, while on the other hand it takes quite a while to overcook them to the mushiness point. So this recipe is one of my main choices when I’m preparing an entrée that’s going to require stovetop attention at the end of cooking. While I’m reducing a sauce or sautéing some veal, I don’t want to worry that I’ll need to remove the veggies from the oven at precisely 7:15. And with this recipe, I don’t.

If you prefer a smoother consistency, by all means, purée the cooked celeriac and parsnips in a food processor.