Digging Deeper into our Roots: the Swede!

Just about everywhere else in the world that grows it, the yellow turnip we know as a Rutabaga is called a Swede. That should tell you it's a cold climate crop. The rutabaga is cultivated not just because it grows and can feed us in the frozen north, but for its vivid color, exotic taste--sweeter than the ordinary turnip but piquant in a mild way, and above all its extraordinary goodness. You gotta like a veggie that pumps iron and potassium into you, that strengthens your thyroid and your collagen connections, that gives you almost all the Vitamin C you're going to need for the day. Think of all those antioxidants flowing into your immune system here on the threshold of cold and flu season and eat a rutabaga or two.

The Swedes are piled high at farmers' markets right now, at least in the northern half of the nation, and they're not waxed like the supermarket ones, so you know they're freshly dug. (That wax is a commercial ag preservative for the long winter haul.) If you don't know what to do with one, think potato and treat it the same way: mashed rutabagas are a Thanksgiving standard. You just peel the bulb, cut it up and submerge it in boiling salted water until its tender. I've been known to put a star anise in that water to intensify the rutabaga's unique flavor. You can also toss in a few cloves to add a mysterious smokiness. Then just like with potatoes, you puree or mash the soft rutabaga chunks, adding salt and pepper along with a spoon of creme fraiche or light cream, even whipped cream cheese. Or nothing at all and the dish will still be delish. You can even whip in a pinch of smoked paprika if you like.

A fancier form of this would be timbales, individual custard size servings of mashed rutabaga smoothed in a mold. The recipe is in the book How to Fix a Leek....and it makes the most perfect dish to set beside a roast chicken or turkey or beef bourgogne.

You can also treat the swede like winter squash. You peel it (maybe 2 lbs) then slice it into 2" thick disks, brush them with melted butter (4 tbsp) and lay them single layer on a buttered baking sheet. Bake at 400º for 15 minutes, then turn them over and coat the top side of each disk with honey (about 1/4 c) and continue to bake another 5-10 minutes until tender. Notice this dish is salt free.

I've seen rutabaga combined with the almost flavorless butternut squash in a lovely mash seasoned with a pinch of smoky chipotle chili, one medium squash and 2 swedes, and heard about this combination made into a thick comforting soup. This involves peeling both the swedes and the squash and optionally a sweet potato, chunking them, drizzling them with olive oil and salt and roasting them at 400º for 45-60 minutes until they are soft.
It also involves sauteeing a diced yellow onion in butter with a pinch of clove and a pinch of cinnamon. Finally in a processor or blender, you combine the roasted veggies with the sauteed onion and spices, salt and freshly ground pepper, a pinch of smoked paprika or chipotle chili, 3 cups of vegetable broth and a cup of cream. Whiz this into a thick pureed soup.

The Scots love the swede. It puts the key flavor in their Scotch Broth. I gave the recipe for that famed lamb/leek/barley soup two posts back while discussing leeks. I myself never fail to include a small cut up rutabaga with the onion, carrot and potato in my autumn ginger flavored beef stews. The swede gives them zing.

And finally, fan that I am of all the roots, I never fail to put rutabaga in my autumn root vegetable stew, served as root vegetable potpie in my book Veggiyana, the Dharma of Cooking. It's right at home with equally flavorful and colorful parsnips, carrots, purple potatoes, yam or sweet potato, celeriac, turnips, daikon, leeks, red onions, ginger and garlic. It's heartwarming how all these strong individual flavors work together to be so nutritious and delicious. It's the perfect tribute to the glory of the frozen north.