Only a couple of posts back in and I am already forgetting to take pictures again. I may not be brilliant, but I am dependable. Still, I wish I had thought to take a picture of the gorgeous beets and baby turnips. I cut them up and roasted them. They are delicious. But, turnips have a long ugly history in my family. When we were kids our mother (basically, the dearest soul in the world….but devious) wanted to make sure we were eating as healthfully as humanly possible. She was raised by a nutritionist so we were doomed from the beginning. We never had Kool-Aid, soda/pop, potato chips or “American” cheese. Margarine was not allowed in our home and shortening was rarely used. But, back to the turnips. Betty June would boil and mash the turnips so that they looked like mashed potatoes. Can you imagine sitting down to dinner and taking a huge spoonful of what you believe are mashed potatoes and realizing in one horrifying forkful that you had over served yourself mashed turnips? If you have never tasted boiled and mashed turnips then you are truly lucky. There isn’t enough butter to save them (or, you). And, my parents were strict as all get out about eating what you had served yourself. We always took our own portions of food from the bowl. I still look at a bowl of mashed potatoes with great detail, and suspicion, because I finally got to the point where I could tell the difference. You see, mashed turnips have a grey tinge and look a bit runny on top. I just made myself laugh that I can still remember this with such clarity.
But, my mom did us such a huge favor. It took growing up to realize how her concern about our nutrition served us then and now. I am grateful that we weren’t allowed to have Kool-Aid (even if the other kids thought we were aliens). Soda was a treat and only allowed if offered by a relative (or friend when Mom and Dad weren’t around). My mother was originally from Waukesha, Wisconsin, where she grew up on a dairy farm. The idea of fake dairy items infuriated her because she felt (and I wonder where I get my righteous indignation) that these things took away from the farmer. Also, she felt that foods made exclusively from chemicals were highly suspect. Again, I am my mother’s daughter.
Have a wonderful day!! My soundtrack for today is a wonderful expression of how I am feeling. The Swedish Chef.