Winter Confusion
By Rob Gardner
January 15, 2009 at 10:27 am
There used to be a time when newspapers found it too costly to print large color pictures. I’m not that confused, however, between the price of ink and the price of other inputs that go into the Chicago Tribune these days. On the other hand, I’m confused over a recent food article on winter veg. The three featured “winter” recipes meet one’s produce challenges: swiss chard, cauliflower and…eggplant.
Eggplant? I can (slightly) see swiss chard and cauliflower. Both of those grow in cooler conditions and in a place like Italy or California could be considered winter crops. Swiss chard even prospers under our indoor hoop houses, and when not minus eight, may be found around here in dark times. Generally, I do not imagine anyone trying to eat local in Chicago relying on these crops.
The locavore diet now should be rich in roots; abundant in alliums, tied to tubers. Hopefully, you found your sweet spot that’s cold enough to keep you in rutabagas and beets, but you can also find these things if you shop the winter markets. I know Robin has another batch of Farmer Vicki goodies for this Sunday’s market in River Forest. JeanMarie Brownson dismisses this food, calling root vegetables bland.
Bland, who bites into a turnip or parsnip and calls it bland. Celery root bland? Strike me confused. I do believe I am not confused over the limits of winter produce. It’s one part mental and two parts physical. Mentally, too many people associate winter food with poverty. “My grandmother survived the entire dust bowl trek to California on rutabagas.” As often quoted on the Internet it’s all German’s ate during World War I. More so, winter vegetables are a pain in the kitchen. Look at beets. At least an hour of roasting (after wrapping each beet in foil), then peeling, trying to keep stain-free, slicing then making your dish. Celery root does fine raw, but try peeling that damn thing.
I’m not confused about the rewards for meeting these challenges. Winter vegetables are anything but bland. They combine cold-induced plant sugars with extensive other flavor notes; the mustard bite of a turnip, the earthy-unmistakable and unique taste of a parsnip (how does one describe that taste?). There are many ways to use these vegetables but if anyone is the least bit confused just peel and roast. Or boil and mash. Grate and dress.
Let’s use what Chicago really has in the winter. Otherwise, we might as well be cooking with the cherries Domminicks was advertising last week.
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