Roots and salmon

Eastside Road, Healdsburg, November 28, 2009—

I'VE MENTIONED IT BEFORE: parsnips, rutabagas, turnips, beets — I loathe and detest them all, all those chronically chthonic underground roots. Bulbs are another matter altogether: onions, garlic, leeks — they're quite delicious. I even like carrots and radishes, if they're small. (Carrots have to be cut lengthwise to be palatable: cut crosswise they're fit only for stews and the like.)
And yet, and yet. Again tonight Lindsey diced rutabagas and parsnips quite small, in say quarter-inch cubes, and sweet potatoes and celeryroot as well. Sweet potatoes and yams aren't strictly speaking root vegetables, but I don't like them either. Celeryroot — well, in my francophile days I learned to love remoulade; and anyway isn't celeryroot technically more like kohlrabi, a disorder of the stem, not really a root?
Anyhow she cubed them, she did, and tossed them in olive oil, and sprinkled marjoram and lemon thyme on them on a baking sheet, and roasted them in the oven: delicious. The objectionable texture is changed utterly, and the flavor's somehow tamed and transformed.
With them, salmon grilled in the iron skillet; afterward, green salad and a little pumpkin pie with hard sauce. We'll get back to the turkey tomorrow, I'm sure.

The dregs of the Prosecco