CTN: Parsnip Soup

One of my maxims is that if you have no-to-low expectations for things (movies, vacations, restaurants, etc.), then you will almost always be pleasantly surprised. Thus was my experience with this soup.

I am certain I don't like parsnips. My grandfather, Pete, loved parsnips. I clearly remember bowls of whipped parsnips at family gatherings. And remember thinking that the contents of those bowls were suspect and not to be consumed by me. And I was a lover of all things vegetable. In fact, I am pretty certain that the only vegetables I don't like are parsnips and lima beans.

So I was happy when my first foray to the farmers' market yielded no parsnips. It was looking good for substituting something I like, such as carrots.

I'm not one to give up, however. I knew they would have parsnips at Chino's--which isn't too far from my office. I was prepared to pay the premium for Chino's parsnips. Plus, that would give me street cred. As it turned out, I didn't have to pay that price. I found parsnips.

The search for parsnips, as well as the other ingredients in this soup, taught me few lessons. One: Don't forget to take pictures. The parsnips had beautiful foliage which was photo-worthy. Two: Don't forget about the middle-eastern market. It has EVERYTHING.

Looking at my schedule for the week, I knew that the only day I had available to make this soup (and to bake the White Loaves for TWD:BWJ) was Sunday. I got up bright and early on Sunday and made the bread dough. As soon as the dough was in the bowl to rise, I ran out to the farmers' market. I'm pretty sure I was the first customer. I scoured the farmer's market with my list: parsnips, leeks, celery, thyme, garlic, pumpernickel. Leeks, celery, and garlic were easy to find. But there were no parsnips, no thyme, and no pumpernickel.

In desperation, I asked one of my favorite vendors about parsnips. "Parsnips?" he asked. "Nobody ever wants those. But yes, I believe I have a few in my truck. We decided this is the last year we will grow them." He pulled a big bunch of parsnips out of the truck. As I said, the foliage was spectacular. Not so the disgusting looking tubers at the end of the foliage. He GAVE me the parsnips.

Parsnips in hand, I jammed over to the middle eastern market. I was worried that my bread was overtaking the bowl and spilling onto the floor, so I needed to rush. I LOVE this market. It closed for a little while and I had not returned once it reopened. Why? Where else can you find a counter where there is nothing but different types of baklava? Or vats of olives? Or 10 different kinds of feta? I wanted it all. I walked over to the spices to look for Aleppo pepper. As I did, I spied the beautiful parsnips in the produce aisle. I could have bought everything at Vine Ripe! Who knew? After carefully analyzing my many options for Aleppo/Turkish pepper (all of which involved a large quantity of pepper), and procuring the smallest loaf imaginable of pumpernickel bread, sans caraway seeds, I returned to my bread dough (which was fine).


Making the soup wasn't as full of adventure as procuring the ingredients. I did make homemade vegetable stock, which was delicious in its own right. I made the recipe exactly as written except I believe I used a few more potatoes than the recipe called for (I had a bag of potatoes that were covered in little spider-sprouts--they needed to be used.)

My celery was a bit aggressive, as can be seen by my horribly tied bouquet garni. I didn't have twine so tried to tie it together with thread. It didn't work. I had to fish this stuff out. Fortunately, my celery leaves were huge



And here is the final soup. Not a very good picture. The soup itself was the consistency of baby food. But it was delicious, especially drizzled with excellent olive oil and liberally sprinkled with the Aleppo pepper. Everybody loved it.