turnips

If you find fall root vegetables unfamiliar and baffling, you’re not alone. Turnips and rutabagas are often big and unwieldy; they’re hard and seem to need forever to cook. Celery root can be shaggy, dirty, and mottled green. And sunchokes look like — well, like nothing else in the market. They’re knobby and woody on the outside, like bloated ginger root. Once you get past their looks, however, there is plenty of delicious local flavor to be unlocked in these fall vegetables.

Rutabagas and turnips are like siblings who are constantly being mistaken for one another. In fact, what Americans call a rutabaga or a Swede (to the great amusement of the rest of Scandinavia) is called a turnip in some other English-speaking countries.

This is part 2 of a summer long series about our CSA boxes and what we do with them. Recipes for Mandu (Korean egg rolls), Simple Turnip Greens and Marinated Cucumbers are below.

We are a month deep into our first CSA box adventure. While June’s first box contained mostly salad greens and green onions, the following boxes grow larger by the week and deliver an ever-diversifying selection of vegetables. Many of the vegetables are new to us. For two, fleeting weeks, garlic scapes graced our boxes. I added them to everything, from bulgogi marinade to salads to cream cheese wontons.  

You say brussels sprouts, I say Brussels sprouts, she says brussel sprouts. What’s in a name? That which we call a rose…a rose cabbage, that is. This is what the Germans call these baby brassicas (“rosenkohl” = rose cabbage) that may be the funkiest and prettiest vegetable you’ll ever see growing. A tall, single leaf-topped stalk supports 20 to 40 buds crammed together like peas with no pod.

Two summers ago, my good friend Becky made me a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) alternate — when families who picked up CSA shares at her house were out of town, I was the beneficiary. Several weeks that summer, I had a bin full of fresh, local veggies, and the pleasant challenge of figuring out what to do with them. It was a gateway experience.

So last summer I bought my own half share in a CSA for Foxtail Farm. The downsides soon became apparent. Interestingly, they weren't ones I could have predicted, like, I never had a zillion zucchini to use up in a hurry.

I had a blast at my good friends' Passover Seder last night. Awesome people, an exciting story ("Let my people go!" Moses demands each year), and terrific food. My wife and I made the matzo ball soup again this year, this time a more local, organic version - free range chickens, organic chicken broth, home-made matzo balls (with locally raised cage-free eggs, all from The Wedge Co-op) - and even the kids asked for more.

About a month ago, I went to the Minneapolis Whole Foods Market looking for local meat. I’ve been a Minnesotan long enough to know that our produce choices are severely limited in the winter months, but I figured there’d be plenty of local pork and beef to bring home. Turns out I was wrong - there was almost none. I left Whole Foods confused and surprised, and I left them a note. The next day, Renee Howard sent me an email.

My friend Doug sent me a great article from Slate the other day, written by Catherine Price.

After finishing Michael Pollan's amazing new(est) book, In Defense of Food (which will be reviewed in a later post), my wife Laura and I decided that Community Supported Agriculture, or CSA, was right for us. Our neighbors, who read Barbara Kingsover's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food (also to be reviewed later) instead, were way ahead of us. We'd been enjoying locally grown foods (kale, turnips, cheeses - we live in Minneapolis!) at their home for months, so we knew they would have already researched the options. After some consideration, we joined Harmony Valley Farm, a CSA based closer to Madison, WI, but doing a good deal of business in the Twin Cities.