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On The Deliciously Wintry (And Possibly Aphrodisiacal) Parsnip

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by Lisa Giroday, Sandra Lopuch and Sam Philips | The sun is shining, the weather is warming, and before long we will be foraging for mushrooms, eating the first nettles and dandelion greens, and sowing the first seeds of spring. But let’s be patient for now. There’s plenty of time to get into all of that. Anticipation is a fun, tingly emotion to hold on to, and in the meantime, we still have other glorious veggie families worthy of investigation. We still have time to celebrate one more winter staple: the parsnip.

Get into it. The word parsnip is oddly adorable. Admittedly, there may be a Victory Gardens member amongst us who despises parsnips and will not grow them in her garden (we won’t say who). The flavour isn’t for everyone, but the parsnip, or Pastinaca sativa, is a close relative of the carrot and a biennial plant that is grown as an annual (biennial plants take two years to finish their life cycle, while annuals finish their’s in one year. Why is it grown as an annual? Because parsnips, after they produce their umbels of small yellow flowers in their second season, make for a woody and inedible root. Fun fact: you need to be careful handling parsnips in the garden or kitchen as the sap from the foliage is toxic and can cause a skin rash, especially on a sunny day as it’s a photosensitive chemical. But don’t let that deter you; it’s not a big deal.

Want to grow them this season? We’ll hook you up in spring – parsnip seeds can be sown from late March to early July. They’ve been cultivated for human consumption since ancient Roman times, although pinning down the archaeological history of its first uses is difficult, as there is some confusion in the literature of the time between parsnips and carrots. It’s interesting to see that people were misidentifying veggies back then, too, and they weren’t yet misguided by the monotony and homogeneity of glossy, grocery store produce! But let’s be fair, back in those days, carrots were mostly purple and cream-coloured, like parsnips. Their tops, you can note, are so different, and again, the flavours are incredibly different. Nonetheless, because both were called pastinaca back then, this must have further created confusion.

Parsnips offer a myriad of culinary applications. Is it raining? Make a parsnip and sage soup, or bridge the upcoming nettle season with the parsnip season and make a nettle and parsnip soup. Is it sunny? Julienne parsnips raw with carrots and coat in them in a sesame dressing. And, if you’re a homesteading superstar, parsnips can be made into a wine that has a taste similar to Madeira. Whoa!

Even more mind-blowing (and returning to Roman times), parsnips were once upon a time considered to be an aphrodisiac. Does this mean that carrots were also considered an aphrodisiac, given they were often confused? They weren’t as widely or highly regarded as oysters, but hey, you never know…

THE VICTORY GARDENS ARCHIVE

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Victory Gardens is a team of local urban farmers for hire. Lisa, Sandra and Sam help transform tired or underused residential and commercial green spaces into food producing gardens. Their goal is to challenge the way communities use space and to participate in the change needed to consume food more sustainably. For the rest of the growing season, they’ve hooked up with Scout to share some cool tips and tricks on how to get the best from of our own backyards.

There is 1 comment

  1. Mmmm, parsnip. Most people I know think they hate ’em. I prefer to introduce them to the hating crowd mashed or whipped with yams as the yam’s sweetness softens the parsnip’s bitter notes. Caramelized shallots go quite nicely in this recipe!