Choose wisely. It’s tempting to opt for one of those grab-and-go bags of potatoes, but don’t. You can’t really tell what shape the potatoes are in, and more often than not there are a few less-than-stellar specimens hiding inside. Instead, pick them out yourself, looking for those that are heavy and firm, with no soft spots or traces of green, which would indicate the presence of mildly toxic solanine, an alkaloid substance triggered by too much exposure to light.
Storage. Once you get them home, keep those potatoes tucked away in the dark, somewhere cool but not cold. Don’t be tempted to put them in the fridge, where the low temps will turn the starches to sugar. If your potatoes do show signs of greening, peel off all traces before using. And keep them away from onions, which release a gas that encourages them to sprout. A few sprouts are fine to pick off, but once potatoes really start growing, they’re best relegated to the compost—or planted in the garden.
Prep school. When boiling potatoes, it helps to keep the skins on to keep them from soaking up too much of the water. Medium- and low-starch potatoes have such thin skins they rarely require peeling anyway. But if you want to do any slicing and dicing in advance, keep the prepped potatoes in water spiked with acid, like lemon juice or vinegar, to keep them from turning brown.
Fried Potato and Cheese Pancake
Serve this crisp-on-the-outside and creamy-on-the-inside dish on its own as a savory side, or dress it up by topping with a drizzle of Spiced Green Sauce or Pickle Salsa Verde, or with spicy greens and herbs dressed in olive oil and lemon with a shower of cheese.
» Serves 2 as a main dish, 4 as a side
1 pound Yukon Gold potatoes (2 large), peeled and quartered
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup thinly sliced onion
¼ pound Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, finely grated (about 2 cups)
Put the potatoes in a large pot of water and add salt until it tastes like the sea. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a gentle simmer and cook until tender, 20 to 25 minutes. Drain well.
Meanwhile, heat a glug of olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until soft and fragrant, about 8 minutes; do not brown.
Put the potatoes in a large bowl and crush them with a potato masher or a wooden spoon until they’re fairly smooth; some chunks are fine, just not huge ones. Add the onion and Parmigiano, season generously with salt and pepper, and toss. Taste and adjust the seasoning.
Heat a glug of olive oil in a nonstick 9-inch skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, add a small spoonful of the potato mixture. If it sizzles on contact, add the rest and gently press into an even layer. (If not, let the pan heat up some more.) Adjust the heat so that the bottom browns nicely but doesn’t burn. Cook until the pancake develops a deep golden crust and the potatoes are getting warm.
Gently slide the pancake from the pan onto a plate or other flat surface. Using hot pads, carefully invert the skillet over the pancake and, holding the pan and plate tightly together, quickly flip the assembly so the pancake falls into the pan. If it falls apart a bit, don’t worry, just press it back together.
Return the pan to the heat and cook until the second side is lovely and crisp. If the pancake seems oily, you can blot briefly on paper towels, but this step isn’t necessary. Serve right away.
Crushed and Fried Potatoes with Crispy Herbs and Garlic
Jacques Pépin made this dish popular, but you know it was developed by some frugal cook centuries ago, who simply wanted to use leftover potatoes and ended up creating a sublime experience of crisp and creamy potatoness.
» Serves 4
1½ pounds small medium-starch potatoes, such as Yukon Gold
Extra-virgin olive oil, for frying
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon fresh rosemary leaves
1 teaspoon thyme leaves
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ teaspoon dried chile flakes
4 lemon wedges
Heat the oven to 400°F.
Spread the potatoes on a baking sheet and bake until fully tender when poked with a knife, about 30 minutes, depending on how big they are.
Let the potatoes cool enough that you can handle them, then crush each one with your palm or the back of a pan. You want to create a patty shape, with lots of craggy surface area to crisp up in the hot oil. If you have larger potatoes, tear them up into smaller pieces after smashing.
Heat ½ inch of olive oil in a large skillet until quite hot. Put a corner of a potato into the oil to test the heat; if it sizzles nicely, the oil is ready. Working in batches, fry the potatoes until nicely browned on one side. Flip and cook until both sides are browned, about 5 minutes total, but about 30 seconds before the potatoes are done, toss in some of the garlic, rosemary, and thyme. Transfer the potatoes to paper towels to drain. Continue frying the potatoes, scraping out the bits of garlic and herbs between batches so it doesn’t burn.
Season with salt and black pepper and the chile flakes. Serve with a lemon wedge for each diner.
Rutabaga
A lot of cooks find roadblocks on the way to discovering this fine winter root. First, there’s the name. To the untrained eye, rutabagas (also called swedes) look like big turnips. So rutabaga newbies inevitably find themselves standing in the produce aisle looking for rutabagas and all they see are turnips. No wonder they call the whole thing off.
But don’t give up. Mild in flavor when raw, developing into a slightly sweet richness when cooked, rutabagas are definitely worth getting to know better. Try them roasted, either on their own with olive oil and herbs, or as part of a winter root medley with potatoes, carrots, parsnips, and the like. Or mash them up with plenty of butter and cream. They shine when accompanied by a dose of sweetness, whether it’s a touch of maple syrup in a glaze or a handful of apples or carrots in a slaw or mash.
Pick the right root. Rutabagas are a cross between a cabbage and a turnip, hence the uncanny resemblance to turnips. But you’ll know it’s a rutabaga because it’s usually bigger, with a yellow (rather than white) hue blending into the purple top. Pick roots that are firm and heavy for their size and store them in plastic bags in the fridge. They’ll keep for weeks. You’ll likely never see them at the market with their tops on, but if you do, treat the greens as you would beet or turnip greens. To prep, just give the roots a once-over with a vegetable peeler before slicing or dicing, especially since grocery stores often sell them coated in food-grade wax.
Mashed Rutabaga with Watercress and Watercress Butter
This recipe is very much a farmhouse dish—exactly the kind of food I crave in the winter. It’s sweet and earthy, and a perfect easy dish to serve next to a pork roast, roast chicken, fish fillet, or in a big bowl on its own, as a bowl of comfort. You’ll find yourself using the watercress butter on tons of other dishes—fish, grilled meats, and other roasted vegetables.
» Serves 4
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 pounds rutabaga, trimmed, peeled, and cut into large chunks
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 big bunch watercress (about 2 ounces), roughly chopped
4 tablespoons Watercress Butter
Fill a large pot with water and add salt until it tastes like the sea. Add the rutabaga, bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook until the rutabaga is completely tender when poked with a fork, 20 to 25 minutes.
Drain the rutabaga and return to the pot. Smash with a potato masher, a wooden spoon, or a large fork. The final texture of the dish will be like chunky mashed potatoes. Season generously with salt, pepper, and a glug of olive oil.
Add the chopped watercress and smash and fold everything together. Pile into a serving bowl and top with the watercress butter and another drizzle of olive oil. Serve hot.
/> Rutabaga with Maple Syrup, Black Pepper, and Rosemary
If steaming the rutabaga is more convenient, use that method, though roasting will add a slight toastiness to this mellow mix of flavors. This dish begs to be served with a pork chop.
Serves 2 to 3
1½ pounds rutabaga, trimmed, peeled, and cut into ½-inch wedges
Extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon pure maple syrup
½ teaspoon chopped fresh rosemary
⅛ teaspoon dried chile flakes
Heat the oven to 400°F.
Toss the rutabaga cubes with a nice glug of olive oil and season generously with salt and black pepper. Spread evenly on a baking sheet and roast until fully tender and lightly browned, 25 to 30 minutes.
Pile into a bowl, sprinkle with the vinegar, and toss to distribute. Let the rutabaga absorb the vinegar for a minute. Add the maple syrup, rosemary, and chile flakes and toss. Taste and adjust with more salt or black pepper.
At the market Look for Grade B maple syrup. The flavor is bolder and better.
Smashed Rutabaga with Apples and Ham
Rutabaga is not a sophisticated vegetable; it feels right at home with the country fixings of apples and ham. Pears in place of apples would be delicious, too.
» Serves 4 to 6
Extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled
1½ pounds rutabaga, peeled, trimmed, and cut into chunks or wedges
2 tart apples, such as Braeburn or Fujis, peeled and cut into chunks
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup diced cooked ham
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
Put a nice glug of olive oil in a large skillet that has a lid and heat over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook slowly to toast the garlic so it’s very soft, fragrant, and nicely golden brown—but not burnt—about 5 minutes.
Arrange the rutabaga and apples in the pan in an even layer—it’s okay if the pan is crowded. Season with ½ teaspoon salt.
Increase the heat to medium, add about ¼ cup water, and cover right away. Steam the rutabaga and apples until tender, adding more water if the pan gets dry. You want enough water in the pan to steam, but not so much that the ingredients sit in water and get soggy. The whole process should take about 30 minutes.
When the rutabaga is fully tender (the apples should get tender first), transfer them to a bowl, add the ham and vinegar, and season generously with salt and pepper. Smash with a potato masher or wooden spoon; the texture should be quite chunky. Taste and adjust with more salt and pepper, and finish with a nice drizzle of oil.
Turnips (Late Season)
While I opt for mild Japanese turnips for salads, slaws, and pickles each spring (see turnips), I reach for the more robust purple-top turnips come fall. In combination with other root vegetables that are in season this time of year, their hint of peppery spiciness adds some welcome dimension and complexity to all that mild-mannered sweetness. And they can match bold flavors bite for bite, so don’t be shy about pairing them up with ingredients that pack a big punch.
How to choose. Unlike early in the year when you find small turnips with their greens still attached, winter markets will have only the bigger, more mature turnips with their leafy tops long gone. These will have to be peeled, as their skins have likely gotten a bit leathery, and you may have to trim away a bit of the flesh, too, if it’s gotten woody near the surface.
Good keepers. Turnips will keep in a plastic bag in the refrigerator for up to a couple of weeks. This time of year, it’s always good to have a few on hand to roast along with chicken or pork, mash along with potatoes, or toss into soup.
Half-Steamed Turnips with Alla Diavola Butter
My inspiration for this dish is kimchi, with its garlicky-spicy pungent notes. I deliver the spiciness in a flavored butter, however, so the dish also has a note of luxuriousness.
» Serves 4
Extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled
1½ pounds turnips, peeled, trimmed, and cut into chunks or wedges
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 tablespoons Alla Diavola Butter
Put a nice glug of olive oil in a large skillet that has a lid and heat over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook slowly to toast the garlic so it’s very soft, fragrant, and nicely golden brown—but not burnt—about 5 minutes. Arrange the turnips in the pan in an even layer—it’s okay if the pan is crowded. Season with ½ teaspoon salt and several twists of pepper.
Increase the heat to medium-high, add a nice big splash of water (about ¼ cup), and put the lid on right away. Steam the turnips until tender, adding more water a few times. You want enough water in the pan to steam the turnips, but not so much that they sit in water and get soggy. The whole process should take about 10 minutes.
Pile the turnips in a bowl, add the diavola butter, and toss gently until the turnips are glossy with it. Serve warm.
Roasted Turnips with Caper-Raisin Vinaigrette and Breadcrumbs
The sweet-tart vinaigrette stands up nicely to the pungency of a late-season turnip.
» Serves 4
1½ pounds turnips, trimmed, peeled, and cut into ½-inch wedges (if the turnips are very large, halve them first so the wedges aren’t too long)
Extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Juice of ½ lemon
⅓ cup Caper-Raisin Vinaigrette
⅓ cup Dried Breadcrumbs
Heat the oven to 450°F. Put a baking sheet in to heat too.
Toss the turnips with a small glug of olive oil and season with salt and pepper.
When the oven is at temperature and the baking sheet is very hot, carefully remove it and dump the turnips onto it. Spread them out evenly so they are all cut side down, return to the oven, and roast until the turnips are nicely tender and browned around the edges, 12 to 15 minutes.
Pile the turnips into a big bowl. Toss with the lemon juice and then with the vinaigrette. Taste and adjust with more salt or pepper. Toss with the breadcrumbs and serve.
Turnip, Leek, and Potato Soup
The soup pot is a good destination for turnips that may be a touch over the hill. This recipe is very flexible, so add more or less of the three vegetables, and leave the soup chunky or puree it until silky smooth; a big pat of butter would make a nice final enrichment.
» Serves 4
Extra-virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 leek, trimmed, split lengthwise into quarters, cleaned well, and thinly sliced crosswise
1½ pounds turnips
1 pound russet potatoes, peeled
1½ teaspoons chopped thyme
1½ teaspoons chopped fresh rosemary
1 bay leaf
¼ teaspoon dried chile flakes
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Heat a glug of olive oil in a large pot over low heat. Add the garlic and let it cook slowly for about a minute to let the flavor bloom. Add the leek and cook until soft and fragrant but not browned, about 6 minutes. Add the turnips and potatoes and cook everything gently for another 10 minutes.
Add 6 cups water, the thyme, rosemary, bay leaf, chile flakes, and 2 teaspoons salt. Bring to a simmer and cook until the potatoes are falling apart and the turnips are very tender, about 25 minutes. Season generously with black pepper. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Adjust the texture as you like—crush with a wooden spoon or potato masher for a chunky soup or blend for a smooth consistency, adding more water if the soup is too thick.
Freekeh, Mushrooms, Turnips, Almonds
Freeke
h is an “emerging” grain, not quite mainstream, but worth seeking out. It’s a young wheat that’s been slightly smoked during the harvesting process, which adds a layer of complexity. The texture is chewy but not as dense as farro or barley.
» Serves 4 to 6
1 cup freekeh, cracked or whole
1 dried chile
1 bay leaf
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 pound mushrooms (cremini or a mix of wild and cremini)
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 pound turnips, trimmed, peeled, and thinly sliced (halve or quarter first if large)
½ cup pickled onions, store-bought or homemade
4 scallions, trimmed (including ½ inch off the green tops), cut thinly at a sharp angle, soaked in ice water for 20 minutes, and drained well
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Dried chile flakes
½ cup almonds, toasted and roughly chopped
Put the freekeh in a medium saucepan and add water to cover by 2 inches. Add the chile, bay leaf, and 1 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer, cover, and cook until the freekeh is tender, 15 to 20 minutes for cracked freekeh, longer for whole. Drain in a sieve (compost the chile and bay leaf) and spread the freekeh out on a plate or tray to cool.
Six Seasons Page 33