Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a young Rob worked in a tweedy, old mens’ haberdashery. Being retail, one had to work on Saturday, and autumn Saturdays were always my favorite.
I worked with one old-timer named Phil, who’s grown son Mark lived in town. Mark worked for Georgia Pacific during the week, but on weekends, he turned into a chef.
So, Saturday morning, while we were still Windexing the tie case and straightening the Countess Mara sweaters, preparing for another lazy day of schlepping rags, the phone would ring…
“Good morning, Lew Hubbard’s, may I help you?”
“Roadkill!”
*click*
“Woo Hoo! Roadkill guys!”
“Roadkill” was Mark’s facetious codeword for some savory concoction he improvised early that morning, ostensibly from ingredients found on the side of the road. It also meant we would eat well that afternoon.
Our little store occupied an old building on Kalamazoo’s downtown mall (incidentally, the first pedestrian mall in the nation), complete with creaking floors, old woodwork, and large stone fireplace with two over-stuffed chairs on a slate hearth. We’d set up a little color TV tuned to college football next to the fireplace, a cozy fire crackling up the old flue.
One by one, our regular customers would stop by, grab a seat by the fire and shoot the breeze, while their wives were busy shopping elsewhere on the mall. The smart ones made sure they stopped by around noon, because that’s when Mark would burst through the back door, a steaming crockpot cradled proudly in his arms.
Greedily, we’d ladle out mugs of the delicious pottage to all present, then settle in to watch football, tell jokes, and savor Mark’s creation. When the roadkill was gone, and the customers were eventually reclaimed by their wives, we’d hide in the little room behind the cash-wrap and play poker for a dollar a game. Mark always lost, but we never made him pay. Afterall, he kept us well fed.
What’s the point of this rambling little bit of nostalgia? Well, I too fancy myself something of a cook. Beautiful, crisp, sunny Saturdays like today always inspire me to create my own roadkill. Today, I made a roasted parsnip and pear soup. It is superb, if I do say so myself. A perfect dish for a chilly Saturday in front of the football game. The recipe is below.
Bon appétit!
Ingredients:
1 1/2 lbs. parsnips peeled and coarsely chopped. About 3 good sized parsnips.
2 tbls. olive oil
3/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. pepper
3 medium pears peeled and chopped
3 medium leeks white portion only thinly sliced
2 celery ribs chopped
3 shallots chopped
¼ cup of butter
6 cups of chicken stock. I used vegetable stock which works well.
1 bay leaf
1 tsp. fresh thyme chopped. You can use dried thyme in a pinch.
1/2 cup heavy cream. Like bacon, cream makes everything better. You could use half-n-half.
Preparation:
Pre-heat oven to 425.
1. Toss parsnips with oil, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Transfer to a greased 10X 15X1 inch baking/roasting pan. Roast uncovered for 25 minutes stirring occasionally. Stir in pears and roast 20 to 25 minutes longer until parsnips are tender stirring occasionally.
2. In a large (5 qts or larger) pot melt butter then add leeks, shallots and celery and sauté until tender about 6 minutes. Stir broth, bay leaf, thyme and the roasted parsnip and pear mixture. Bring to a boil and then simmer for 30 minutes.
3. Cool slightly. Remove bay leaf. Use immersion blender to puree. If serving immediately add cream and bring back to serving temperature. If freezing add cream when reheating.
