The charm of a parsnip

If you're a parsnip fence-sitter or hater, be happy you weren't around in the Middle Ages, when these roots were one of the main starch sources in Europe.

The other root vegetable

Parsnips: I don't think we give them attention. And with the palaeo gang nixing all vegetables grown underground, they're not likely to become more popular. What a pity.

The soily sweet muskiness of a good parsnip is something no other vegetable offers. If you're a parsnip fence-sitter or hater, be happy you weren't around in the Middle Ages, when these roots were one of the main starch sources in Europe.

I love them a dozen different ways, but here is my current favourite.

Spiced parsnips and apple soup

Around 1½kg each parsnips and potatoes / 2 medium onions / 3 tart apples / 2 cloves garlic peeled / 6 tbsp olive oil / 3 tbsp each ground coriander and cumin / 1 tbsp grated fresh ginger root / 1 tsp nutmeg / 1½ litres vegetable or chicken stock / 3 cups milk / 2 tbsp butter / salt to taste.

How: peel then chop parsnips, potatoes, onions and apples into coarse chunks. Cover these, and the garlic, with half the oil, and roast for 40 minutes, or until softish.

Heat the remaining oil and fry the coriander, cumin, ginger and nutmeg until aromatic. Add the stock, milk and vegetables.

Simmer for around 30 minutes. Blend until smooth. Add more liquid if necessary (it should be thick but not like porridge). Reheat and then add butter and salt to taste. Eat with good, warm bread and lemons to squeeze in optionally. Even better the next day. Serves 6

Vegetarians

Vegetarians love parsnips. And I love vegetarians. Until they are my customers and start making lofty demands about the kitchen morphing an entire dish to turn it vegetarian-friendly. It's not the changing of things that I mind (okay, I mind that a bit). What gets to me is when these demands are made with a very upfront Moral High Ground Tone as The Weapon.

I hear the tone of voice, slightly despairing of our Neanderthal "less conscious" ways, and then I can't help noticing the person's leather shoes or leather handbag, and later I see that they've ordered the marshmallows for dessert, which contain gelatine.

Should I get mad? Actually, I don't know. An invisible food chain makes it hard to know anything.

Is the calf born for the express purpose of being turned into calf-skin boots a worse story than a battery chicken? Is the feedlot in an intensive dairy farm, along with damn sore udders, a better option than the feedlot on a beef farm? (Both cows are eaten at the end, with dairy cows usually culled about a quarter of the way through their natural life).

It's a messy business and few besides Mahatma Gandhi can claim innocence.