I watched a college basketball game this past week –
the University of New Mexico Lobos vs. New Mexico State Aggies. These are the two biggest universities in the
state and so there is naturally a rivalry. I live in
Albuquerque and attended UNM, so I naturally root for the Lobos and usually boo
at the Aggies. Why boo? Why dislike a
school, a team, a group of people just because they aren’t the school that I
went to? It’s almost as if disliking
the Aggies is ingrained in the Lobos and vice versa for no other reason than “they
aren’t us.” And somehow this is
acceptable for sporting events as we choose a team to root for, which means we
are choosing a team to root against.
Yet I think we carry this mentality into other aspects of
our lives too – the idea that if we like one thing, we can’t possibly like
another just because it isn’t the first thing.
For example, most people like potatoes – fried, scalloped, baked, chips,
whatever form they can get. If you ask
someone, “do you like potatoes?” you will probably get an enthusiastic
nod. However, if you ask people “do you
like turnips?” You will probably get a
raised eyebrow followed by a wrinkling of the nose as if they just smelled
something like hot trash. And then if you
ask, “have you ever tried turnips?” You
might get a mixed response: some will say no and some will say they were forced
to eat them as children but haven’t had them in a long time, while others might
say they attempted to make them but couldn’t quite figure out how to cook them.
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| Turnip Fries |
It’s this first group that I can’t quite figure out – how can
they dislike something they have never tried? How did the turnip become so wildly
unpopular in their minds? For the people
who have bad childhood memories associated with root vegetables, I understand why they
wouldn’t want to give them another chance. My mother is in this group. She says she had to eat turnips as a child
and that they were bitter. As she
described this, she looked as if that bitterness was still on her
tastebuds.
I have not experienced the bitter turnip sensation, so I am
a fan of the turnip and root vegetables in general. To me, the turnip is an excellent substitute
for the potato. I have made mashed
turnips just like I would if I were making mashed potatoes; boil the turnips,
drain the water, add chicken broth, some
butter, salt, and pepper. Voila! Mashed turnips! The husband said that he couldn’t tell the
difference between the turnip and the potato.
I’ve also made Turnip Fries in the oven by cutting up the turnip to look
like fries, drizzling with olive oil, and sprinkling with paprika and
salt. These are delicious with a
burger!  |
| Roasted Chicken and Rutabaga |
After my impromptu survey about turnips, I decided to ask
people about the rutabaga. Most people asked, “What’s that?” and looked at me
like I had made up the word. The
rutabaga is a root vegetable just like the turnip. It seems to have a wilder taste to it – kind of like venison is
to beef – similar but different. Instead
of white “meat” like the turnip, the rutabaga is more yellow. I made Roasted Chicken and Rutabaga for my
first taste of this root vegetable.
While I really like the turnip, the rutabaga didn’t impress me nearly as
much. The recipe called for many spices,
black olives, and yet the rutabaga could not be tamed. It still tasted a bit wild, maybe this was
the bitterness my mother had referred to.
However, I ate it anyway and I hope to try it again. Maybe I will make rutabaga fries the next
time.
Both the turnip and the rutabaga are part of the mustard
(crucifer) family along with cabbage, cauliflower, and the radish. So why are these vegetables in the same
family more widely accepted? How did the
turnip and the rutabaga fall from popularity?
I don’t know the answer to these questions, but just as I will continue
to root for the Lobos I will continue to root for root vegetables (and try to
boo less for the Aggies.)
