Slowly and Quietly

Parsnips are pretty ugly, really. 

                                                                     a few angles of this very photogenic vegetable bundle

What I do in my free time: I look up parsnip images on google because I forgot to take pictures of the parsnip pasta dish we made the other night, when Jem and Laura were over for dinner. (Just in case you're confused, the pasta wasn't MADE of parsnips, but more on that soon.)

Then, I decide I can certainly take my own ugly parsnip picture rather than stealing from the internet. And I can. See above. What if instead of something old, something new, something borrowed something blue it was pasta, parsnips, parsley and pepper? And bacon. I think this pasta might buoy a marriage more than old, new, borrowed and blue stuff any day. Or maybe not. Maybe some of all of it? But I digress...

This post was slow getting up because I was trying to figure out what my story was and what picture to use. Turns out, I didn't ever get a picture I really like. Though I tried. My iphoto is filled up with pictures of that vegetable beauty queen. I wrote a lot about why I might have decided to caramelize those parsnips then, but I still couldn't figure out the story. But as my favorite writing teacher, Brenda Ueland said, "The imagination works slowly and quietly." Forcing anything does NOT work. I'll just have to wait and let it sort itself out.

And even beyond revelations about blog posting and parsnips, I think we slowly and quietly come to revelations about lots of things. Like people, for example. Have you ever slowly and quietly begun to realize that you're becoming really good friends with a person you were determined to hate? I think a lot of good things happen slowly and quietly.

So if you are skeptical, you may be skeptical, yes I was skeptical too. Especially about the parsnips. But, once you see them, homely are they are, sizzling in the butter and bacon fat and taste their sweetness, more earthy and sophisticated than a carrot, you may change your tune. 

I was not skeptical ever about Jem and Laura being our friends. Even during Eric and I's crazed dash around the kitchen trying to get enough pan space to accommodate 2 lbs of parsnips, we just laughed and laughed. I feel like we've been friends with them a long time, even though it was only the first time we'd all had dinner together. You just don't interrupt that kind of laughing with picture-taking. Not that I think they would have minded. Maybe next time.

Pasta with Caramelized Parsnips. And Bacon.

2 lbs parsnips, peeled, quartered and sliced 1/4" thick
4 cloves garlic, chopped
8 slices of bacon (NOT the lean kind)
8 - 10 oz. of fresh pasta, tagliatelle or papperdelle
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter
2 oz. farmer cheese or feta cheese (or, to taste)
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
Olive Oil
Sea Salt 
Pepper

Prepare the parsnips. It's important to do that before you get the rest of the stuff going. Use a sharp knife for super-thin slices. After parsnips are peeled, chopped and quartered, set them aside in a bowl.

Chop bacon into bite-size pieces and cook in a skillet. (One that will have enough room for the parsnips soon, too! We used a cast-iron skillet.) Once bacon is crispy and cooked through, remove slices from pan and set aside, allowing them to drain on a towel.  Drain off all but about 2 Tbsp. of bacon fat from the skillet and discard.

Add the two Tbsp. unsalted butter to remaining bacon fat and allow to melt over medium heat. Retrieve parsnips and garlic and add to the skillet stirring frequently for 12 - 15 minutes until they are soft and translucent and beginning to brown and crisp.

Start the pasta cooking in boiling, salted water (throw a Tbsp. of sea salt in the pot) while the parsnips and garlic are almost done, according to the directions on the package. Drain pasta when the noodles are al dente, reserving 1/2 cup of the pasta water first. Rinse the noodles under cold water, then return them to the pot or serving bowl.

Add the bacon and sautéed parsnips to the pasta. Stir in reserved pasta water. Add olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Add half the chopped parsley and give the whole dish a stir to integrate. Sprinkle the rest of the parsley on top and pass the cheese at the table.

Serves about 4 as a main dish.

PS: Caramelizing parsnips transforms them into root treasure. See below how I caramelized the leftover parsnips. I actually did this the other morning before I headed off on my bicycle, hence the tupperware.

PPS: If you're vegetarian, the thin-sliced parsnips would also be excellent sautéed with olive oil and garlic or roasted in a 350° oven until crispy and browned

parsnips like to sizzle in butter