Some people love to eat sauteed (lighty fried) parsnips. My mother was such a person. Since I do not care for parsnips, I feel that eating them exposes a character flaw that certainly must be present in the person eating them. I shudder to think about them.
I apologize in advance for my views on parsnips. I do remember my mother cooking them. She would peel them, like a carrot. She’d slice them the long way, and then, she’d slice them into inch and a half chunks.
(Sigh — ) She would start melting butter in her frying pan. When the butter was melting, she’d add her chunks of parsnips. They’d sautee and start to caramelize. The smell in the kitchen was slightly sweet smelling. It probably was not a bad smell, I remind you, I just had a thing about vegetables. (I think about how hard I was on my mother and some days, I wish I could go back and eat the darn things and o-o-o-h and a-h-h-h about how good they were) Unfortunately, I have not changed my view on parsnips and that isn’t going to happen!
I, being the kid I was, fussy no doubt and hard to cook for, would sniff the air and shudder to myself. Parsnips, to me, had a gooey, sweet, yucky taste. The darn things were a beautiful, orange-ish color when done. They were the texture of a fried potato. The inside was slightly mushy. They had a sweet flavor. My husband loves them, but, of course, I never cook them.
Yes. If I were going to cook them for myself, I would definitely cook them the same way that my mother cooked them. I wonder if I could actually put one in my mouth and eat it? Well, I can imagine I would, but seriously, in all reality, I doubt it!