Fried Parsnips

My father loved fried parsnips, so we planted them every year.  The sandy soil of our garden plot meant that we had to dress it with composted manure from my grandfather’s farm, and I suspect that Dad spread extra on that part of the garden where the parsnip seeds would be planted.  Parsnips do well in sandy soil with plenty of compost to hold moisture and provide nutrients.

When October arrived, Mom or Dad would dig a couple of parsnips “to see if they were ready.”  If they were sweet, fried parsnips would begin appearing on the table every week.  If they still tasted more like carrots, we would wait for harder frosts to turn more parsnip starch into sugar.  I don’t remember that we left the parsnips in the ground through the winter, but Dad and I dug some after the top inch or two of soil was frozen.  Parsnips need frost to ripen properly and are often left to overwinter in the ground where winter is less severe than in northern Wisconsin. 

Though many people are unfamiliar with them today, parsnips were one of the premier root vegetables in Europe and the United States until the middle of the nineteenth century.  The wild ancestor of the parsnip is found in many parts of Europe and Asia and was cultivated by the Greeks and Romans over 2,000 years ago.  

The parsnip has a long and distinguished history.  It was a vegetable enjoyed by commoners and royalty alike.  According to the Roman historian Pliny the Elder, the emperor Tiberius Caesar loved parsnips and imported loads of them from farmers who grew them along the Rhine river in northern Germany.  He reportedly even accepted parsnips as part of the tribute (taxes) paid by the province.

In northern Europe where parsnips grew especially well, they were a staple and the people who settled the New World brought parsnip seeds with them.  Virtually every family in Wisconsin would have planted parsnips in their gardens in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.  The sweet white cousin of the carrot almost certainly graced the tables in the Bell-Tierney home.

 They went into the soup pot, were fried or roasted and were even eaten as a sweet dessert.  Queen Elizabeth and Shakespeare both probably enjoyed parsnip pie, and even the playwright might occasionally have been able to afford a luxurious dish of parsnips with an orange and marigold sauce garnished with slices of that exotic fruit.

I have never eaten a parsnip pie or any other parsnip dessert, but I was forced to eat my share of fried parsnips.  For that I am thankful.  We learn to enjoy the foods that our parents and friends introduce to us.  Some food writers say that parsnips are an acquired taste.  This is true.  However, all foods are acquired tastes.   Hunger helps too.

My sisters in Hayward confirmed that my memory of how Mom cooked fried parsnips was right. Here is how to make two servings of your own fried parsnips.

INGREDIENTS:

4 or 5 parsnips (each about 5 to 7 inches long)

1/4 cup flour

1/2 tsp. salt, divided

1/8 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

2 or 3 T vegetable oil

Water

PROCEDURE:

Peel the parsnips, cut them lengthwise into slices about a quarter inch thick.  Some of the slices from the edges will be thinner, but don’t worry about it.

Put the slices into a saucepan and cover them with water.  Add a dash of salt and bring them to a boil.  Simmer the parsnips for five to seven minutes until they are just fork tender, not as my sister said, “until they get mushy.”

While the parsnips are cooking, mix a scant half teaspoon of salt and a few grinds of pepper with the flour.  You can stir it together on a plate or shake it up in a bag.  Cover the bottom of a skillet with oil and set the pan over moderate heat.  

Drain and flour the slices and fry them until they are light brown.  Turn them often to keep them from burning.  If you have too many slices to fit in a single layer in your skillet, fry them in batches, adding a little oil if necessary.  Remove the slices from the pan, drain them on a paper towel and serve them warm.  

NOTES:  Though she had never tasted fried parsnips before, Jerri liked them.  I had, however, delayed dinner an hour.

Katie’s Carrot Salad

“In Adam’s Fall,
we sinned all.”

This is how children were introduced to the alphabet in The New England Primer, the first and most famous textbook published in the American colonies. The rhyming verses and woodcut images taught children their letters and gave them a moral lesson.

The Primer included The Shorter Catechism, the Lord’s Prayer and the Apostles Creed as well as hymns and verses used to teach children to read and learn how to become good Christian adults. Though I didn’t know that it was one of the verses from The New England Primer, I can still recite this famous prayer that we recited long ago in Sunday School and before we went to bed.

“Now I lay me down to take my sleep, 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep, 
If I should die before I wake, 
I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

But despite the guidance of our parents and teachers, we all slip sometimes and even a pastor can mislead a member of his congregation. Thus it was that Jerri came came home from a church potluck praising Pastor Jim’s carrot salad. She made it several times over the next eight or ten years until she was distracted by some other recipes.

A few weeks ago, she asked me if I had put a carrot salad on Courage in the Kitchen. Since I had not, she suggested that I do Jim’s Carrot Salad. When I asked for the recipe, she confessed that she was no longer certain about all the ingredients. An email to Jim and his wife produced the recipe and the truth.

It is Katie’s, not Jim’s salad. I’m sure Jim did not intentionally lead Jerri to believe that it was his salad, but it is very tempting to claim ownership of a recipe that good cooks are swooning over. We must always remember that even pastors are human.

Here is Katie’s introduction to the salad:

“The recipe is really my mother’s but she taught me to throw in what tastes good to me. Her version didn’t include coconut but Jim loves coconut….My carrot salad is sort of a throw anything you want in.  I put in grated carrots, coconut, raisins, apple, and mayo thinned slightly with pineapple juice. It’s mostly carrots, but I do like to put a little chopped raw apple in also.  Sunflower seeds may be Jerri’s version and that sounds good, too.  I do like salads and usually guess at what I would like to eat most in the salad.”

Here is some guidance to help you create a delicious carrot salad. I call it Katie’s, but she credits her mother with teaching her to make it, Jim inspired her to add the coconut and Jerri apparently contributed the sunflower seeds. This is a very forgiving recipe (pun intended) that you can customize to fit your tastes.

INGREDIENTS:

3 cups grated carrots
1/4 cup chopped apple
1/4 cup grated or flaked coconut
1/4 cup raisins
1/4 cup sunflower seeds
1/4 cup mayonnaise or salad dressing
2 – 3 T pineapple juice

PROCEDURE:

Wash and scrape or peel four or five large carrots. Grate them into a large mixing bowl. You want about three cups of grated carrots. Add a quarter cup of crisp apple chopped into a quarter-inch dice along with the coconut, raisins and sunflower seeds. Mix everything together.

Blend two or three tablespoons of pineapple juice with a quarter cup of mayonnaise or salad dressing and stir the dressing into the other ingredients. If the salad is too dry, add more mayonnaise and pineapple juice. If it tastes bland, try adding a teaspoon of lemon juice. If it is not sweet enough, use a little more pineapple juice or add a tiny bit of sugar or honey.

NOTES: Obviously, you should feel free to omit or add an ingredient or to increase the amount of one you like. My advice always is to be cautious when changing a recipe. You may really like sunflower seeds, for instance, but a cupful might have an effect you didn’t intend.