How to Cook With Misunderstood Vegetables

I was in the checkout line at the Columbia City PCC, placing oddity after oddity on the belt, when I realized I should write a book about misunderstood vegetables. One beige-ish orb after another sowed confusion as it slowly moved down the belt, followed by a cruciferous catwalk of turnips and cabbages. “That’s celery root,” I told the cashier, who was new on the job. “And that,” excitement in my voice, “that’s a watermelon radish! So pretty!” The people waiting behind me were patient enough – though confounded. One asked “what are you going to make with all that?” I noted the tone. Curious, but also skeptical anything good could come from it.

PCC shoppers generally trend towards the food-knowledgeable, but even we sometimes fail the unusual produce identification game. Is it a rutabaga or a turnip, a parsnip or a sunchoke? Also, how do you cook those? And why? I was teaching a class at that time focused on the overlooked, lonely corridors of the produce section, and consistently faced these impromptu identification and information sessions along with the side eye at the contents of my shopping cart. I knew getting familiar with those vegetables could multiply the fabulous meal opportunities available to shoppers, if only they felt as comfortable with a turnip as a carrot, or as comfortable with a tomatillo as a tomato.

How to start? In my classes I plastered googly eyes on the vegetables to make them more approachable, because it’s a proven fact that it’s hard to dismiss a tuber that is literally looking at you. I encouraged my students to engage in a little guerilla googly eye warfare to bring more outside attention to these overlooked vegetables. I may or may not have supplied the stickers.

Note: The author does not encourage you to put googly eyes on misunderstood vegetables at PCC stores. Nope. Don’t do it.

But I also needed to back up to the core issue: What exactly is a misunderstood vegetable? It depends to some extent on individual cultures; my Italian students, for instance, are often familiar with radicchio, which mystifies many others, and my Indian students are frequently among the most comfortable cooking eggplant. No matter what their personal vegetable locus, though, humans are extremely predictable overall – we fear what we don’t know, and this applies to other humans and produce alike. We are also creatures of habit, and that bunch of sweet carrots that you know exactly what to do with takes far less mental energy to put in your basket and ultimately on your table than the burdock root that you have no idea what to do with. Or perhaps you’ve had burdock root in kinpira gobo, a delicious salad of burdock and carrot in a mirin-soy-sesame sauce, but that’s the only way you’ve seen it and it doesn’t fit in easily to what you have planned for the week. So into the cart go the carrots and the burdock hangs back, its googly eyes downcast.

So what is a misunderstood vegetable?

• A vegetable you’ve had once, poorly prepared, and decided you don’t like it.
• A vegetable you’ve overlooked because it looked dull, drab or dirty or simply unfamiliar.
• A vegetable you can only think of one or two uses for.

This vegetal misunderstanding is new – and in fairness, diners have more opportunities for misunderstandings now than ever before. Prior to the global availability of out-of-season and non-regional produce, people knew all the tubers and roots that grew well in their area, and how to cook them. Our grandparents and great grandparents knew what these veggies were and so did their microbiomes, feasting happily on a wide range of high fiber, local produce. Our microbiome friends have shrunk in tandem with our local vegetable knowledge. Our desire for less bitter, sweeter vegetables have further marginalized the radicchios, dandelion greens, and turnips, kicking them to the back of the bin.

But such savory secrets these ingredients hold! Celery root will level up your mashed potato game. Try roasting cubes of buttery, nutty celery root (also known as celeriac) and mashing it into your potatoes. Make a pesto with blanched stinging nettles for your late spring pasta salad. Cook burdock root into a simple miso soup for an earthy, nutty addition. Use raw sticks of young parsnip, rutabaga and celery root to dip into hummus. Roast radishes to mellow the pepperiness and bring out the sweetness you didn’t even know was there.

Here is a rundown of a few of my favorites and the ideal way to prepare them.

Charred Tomatillos with Burrata, Peach, Basil, and Croutons

This recipe walks the line between raw and cooked tomatillos, charring them over high heat for just long enough to get some flavor on them while preserving their crisp texture. The tomatillos, along with the tomatoes, provide the tart acidity in this recipe, making a vinaigrette unnecessary. Simply drizzle your best olive oil over the top with some nice flaky salt and you have a new take on the traditional panzanella salad.

SERVES 6

FOR THE VEGETABLES

2 tablespoons olive oil
½ pound tomatillos, husked, rinsed, and medium diced
1 teaspoon salt, divided
1 tablespoon honey
2 slightly underripe peaches, cut into ¾-inch pieces
2 serrano chiles (1 seeded, if you want less heat)

FOR THE CROUTONS

4 cups rough-torn artisan bread (in bite-sized pieces)
3 tablespoons olive oil
½ teaspoon salt

FOR ASSEMBLY

6 ounces burrata
½ pint cherry tomatoes, cut in half
½ bunch basil, torn roughly
1 tablespoon of your best-quality olive oil, for finishing
Flaky sea salt

TO COOK THE VEGETABLES

In a large sauté pan over high heat, add 1 tablespoon of the oil and, after a moment, add the tomatillos and ½ teaspoon of the salt. Cook the tomatillos until they are charred in spots and darken in color but still retain texture, 5 to 6 minutes. Add the honey and cook for 30 more seconds. Remove the tomatillos to a plate. Add the other 1 tablespoon of oil to the pan, turn the heat down to medium-high and sear the peaches and the whole serrano chiles (no need to remove the stem), adding the remaining ½ teaspoon salt. The peach slices should caramelize a bit and the chiles should soften and blacken, about 4 to 5 minutes. Watch the peaches carefully, as they burn easily. When the peaches are caramelized on both sides, remove them to the plate with the tomatillos. The serranos may take a minute or two longer to char. When the chiles are cool, slice them into thin rounds (if you’ve seeded them, just slice the halves into half rounds).

TO MAKE THE CROUTONS

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Toss the bread with the olive oil and salt and bake until slightly crispy (leaving them a bit soft in the middle helps to absorb some of the juices of the salad), 10 to 15 minutes.

TO ASSEMBLE

On a wide platter, lay out the charred tomatillos, peaches, and slices of serrano chile. Cut the burrata into chunks or break it up with your fingers and scatter it around the salad along with the cherry tomatoes, torn bread croutons, and basil. Drizzle on the olive oil and add flaky salt, especially on the burrata.

Grilled Eggplant with Tomatoes, Pomegranate, Spiced Yogurt, and Pine Nuts

This is a riff on an Afghan recipe I learned how to make over 20 years ago called borani banjan, which features fried eggplant stewed in tomatoes. It’s a dish that has its roots in Persia, but versions of it are eaten all over the world. This version is a bit lighter, as you are grilling the eggplant instead of frying it and using fresh versus stewed tomatoes. In addition to the pine nuts that add contrasting texture to the eggplant, a garnish of fried chickpeas (available in small bags as a snack in most supermarkets) gets sprinkled on top. Black garlic adds a rich, deep, savory-sweet note to the yogurt sauce. This is a dish to make in late summer, when heirloom tomatoes and eggplants are at their peak.

SERVES 4

FOR THE EGGPLANT

1½ teaspoons salt
1½ pounds eggplant, cut into ½-inch slices
½ cup olive oil

FOR THE YOGURT SAUCE

1 cup full-fat yogurt
½ head black garlic cloves (mashed into a paste if hand mixing sauce), or 2 regular garlic cloves, minced well
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon ground cumin
½ teaspoon salt, more if needed

FOR THE GARNISH

Flaky salt, to taste
1 pound heirloom tomatoes, cut into ½-inch slices
1 cup cherry tomatoes, cut in half
¼ cup toasted pine nuts
½ cup basil, roughly torn
Pomegranate molasses, as needed
1 tablespoon mint, roughly chopped
1 small bag of crunchy chickpeas (optional)
Good olive oil, as needed

TO MAKE THE EGGPLANT

Pre-salt the eggplant as explained (see box on page 66). If grilling: toss the eggplant in the oil, then grill over high heat until caramelized and tender, 6 to 8 minutes. If pan-searing: add the oil to a pan and cook the eggplant over medium-high heat until caramelized and tender, 6 to 8 minutes. (You could also coat with oil and roast in a 400°F oven until caramelized.)

TO MAKE THE YOGURT SAUCE

Puree all the ingredients in a blender or mix well by hand. Season to taste.

TO ASSEMBLE

Salt the tomatoes to your taste. On a large platter, spread out the yogurt sauce. Shingle the eggplant with the tomatoes on top. Garnish with the cherry tomatoes, pine nuts, basil, some pomegranate molasses, mint, chickpeas, and good olive oil. Serve at room temperature.

Becky Selengut is an author, instructor, podcaster, and chef based in Seattle. Her books include: Misunderstood Vegetables, How to Taste, Shroom, Good Fish, and Not One Shrine. Selengut is the co-host of the local foods podcast Field to Fork.