Remember your roots!
There's a strange, primal comfort in root vegetables. Anchoring wayward plants into the steady, dependable earth; tirelessly collecting water and nutrients, storing them for harsher days to come. This sense of dependability seems to translate well to us humans, with roots very often the centrepiece of hearty soups and stews: their kindly warmth accompanying us through the bitterness of so many Decembers and Januaries. Root vegetables have humbly stood by us at our tables for much of human history. They continue to provide the same staple source of fibre and carbohydrates that gave welcome reprieve to the impoverished peasantry, as well as pleasant complement to the lavish fare of the banqueting gentry in past times. In popular culture, roots are a common way in which people symbolise their origins, which may help rationalize why root vegetables give me this vague sense of soothing familiarity. While I am by no means saying that in a past life I may have been a turnip, the almost spiritual notion that all life comes from the earth and to it we shall eventually return, makes the direct relationship that the earth has with the roots we eat more meaningful somehow - as if connecting with our true origins.
Root vegetables don’t always necessarily class as true roots - they refer to all edible underground parts of a plant. By far my favourite, and one of the most recognisable pillars of global cuisine are the Alliums, or the onion family. Onions themselves, as well as garlic, are the two most universally known members of this family; these pungent bulbs form the basis of virtually all of western cuisine as well as being deeply integrated into many other cuisines across the globe. This is unsurprising as their flavour encapsulates so much of what us humans love about food. The sharp, ascetic bite of a raw onion subsides to a mouth-wateringly intense savoury aroma when cooked. Nothing stimulates the hungry mind quite like the smell of a frying onion, sizzling lazily away in the pan, its scent a tantalising precursor to something delicious. Onions have been used in cooking since at least 5000BC, based on findings from bronze-age remains in China. Its prominent use amongst ancient peoples was not limited to just culinary endeavours, however, for in Dynastic Egypt the concentric rings inside the onion bulb, as well as its spherical shape, represented eternal life. This symbolism generated reverence of the onion - traces of which were found in the eye sockets of Ramesses IV, placed there as part of his sacred burial rites over 3000 years ago. In the tomb of another famous Pharaoh, Tutankhamun, the well-preserved remains of a different Allium was discovered: Garlic. Another pillar of global cooking, garlic’s powerful, instantly recognisable smell and taste graces the kitchens of much of the world. For me, using garlic in cooking is like having an addiction: using it in small quantities at first, with its flavour enhancing qualities reeling me in to such an extent that before you know it a whole bulb of the stuff is going in - my steadily increasing garlic tolerance requiring more and more cloves every time to satisfy the craving. I look at recipes now and scoff at the ingredient list: “pfft...two cloves of garlic? What’s that gonna do?”
The ‘true roots’ that inhabit the vegetable world for me epitomise the sense of winter as a peaceful, drowsy hibernation, where we crawl into the warmth of our dwellings and hold out for warmer climes, as many of our mammalian counterparts do in nature. The earthy, nuttiness of a parsnip is something that is difficult to compare with when thinking about the quintessential flavours of winter. It is well known that parsnips are best harvested after the frosts have passed; there is something rather endearing about the idea that after the cruel bite of winter wanes, the parsnips sweeten with the joy of spring. Fiercely hardy and a reliable crop, parsnips excel in the ground to the same degree that they excel in the kitchen - the subtle, muted sweetness ascends to the heavens when accented with cream and nutmeg. A close relative of the parsnip, and easily the most famous of the true roots, is the well-loved and positively noble carrot. The first mention of the use of carrot roots was in the 1st century AD, but for much of the first millennium they were primarily cultivated for their seeds and leaves as the roots of the wild carrots are thin, woody and brown. The crisp, sweet roots that we enjoy today originated in the mountains of Afghanistan and were introduced to Europe around the 10th century. Since then carrots have spanned much of the colour spectrum, from purples, reds, and yellows to whites and, finally, the omnipresent orange that the modern world fell in love with. The clean, vibrant crunch of the raw carrot makes it easy to understand the rabbits’ devoted love affair with them. Roasted with salt and honey anoints them as autumnal royalty, and gently spiced in a thick soup gladly softens the sombre transition to winter’s depths.
What kind of self-respecting monologue about root vegetables doesn’t involve the potato? An undeniable kingpin of the vegetable world, the modest potato fundamentally shaped the course of human history in the second half of the last millennium, as European explorers brought them back home from the Americas. Approximately a quarter of population growth and urbanisation in the Old World between 1700 and 1900 was due to the introduction of the potato as a staple food source. Potentially the most versatile vegetable of all, there is seemingly nothing a potato can do wrong. Besides being used in a large portion of the world’s most well-known dishes, potatoes have uses in other areas of life. Potatoes are often used as a neutral base for many premium vodkas, whose clean, icy smoothness gives way to a delectable internal warmth. Potatoes are also a firm favourite in the scientific community, their pale, waxy flesh providing the perfect “model tissue” to carry out biological research. There is also research going on to extract polyesters from waste potatoes for use in plastics, and some companies are looking into using potato starch for biodegradable packaging. Purely for the revolutionary impact that they have had on modern society, the globally beloved tuberous wonder that is the potato surely must be crowned king of root vegetables.
An honourable mention in this pantheon of subterranean delights is something that not many would see as a vegetable and is, biologically, a rhizome: the zesty, aromatic and tangy ginger. It serves as an iconic ingredient in Asian cuisine, and a delicious addition to teas, cakes and biscuits in the West. This ability to thrive in both sweet and savoury settings was part of the reason ginger was so desired in the global spice trade, in the Middle Ages and beyond. So adaptable is ginger, that I once found myself cracking open a bottle of Corona lager and subsequently having the disappointing realisation that I didn’t have a lime, or any suitable citrus fruit for that matter. I was, of course, absolutely devastated. In a desperate burst of creativity, I peeled and sliced a wedge of ginger and put it in the neck of the bottle - and not expecting much, if I’m honest. Luckily, It was a perfect replacement - fruity, zingy and very slightly spicy. What more could you want? Root veg triumphs again. In a world of colourful squashes, purple sprouting broccoli and mysterious romanesco cauliflowers, it is easy to overlook the simple, unassuming root vegetable. But as winter encroaches in its most frigid form, perhaps this meandering ode to some of the most prominent underground delicacies will give some deserving limelight to this food source that has served us so diligently throughout history.
Remember your roots!
-Mike mcshane
about the author
Mike is currently the lead strategist for EATE, working behind the scenes with Sam to keep the business running. But he’s clearly not working hard enough as he seems to be writing articles all the time.
@mikemcshane_