Last night I got home late, as usual. Not late-late, just regular late. The Mister was still out at band practice and since we're doing this whole healthy meal thing (thanks RealSimple!), I thought I'd get dinner kick started before he got home. The evening's meal was Steak with Potato-Parsnip Mash, and I figured I ought to at least get those parsnips and potatoes a-boilin'.
I grabbed the potatoes and got to peeling and then went hunting for parsnips. I had ordered the groceries online and wasn't 100% sure what a parsnip *was*. In the fridge there was a produce bag with what clearly must be parsnips. 4 small round red parsnips. I chopped them up, threw them in the pot and started to ferret out the other ingredients.
When the Mister returned home, he took over the cooking and relegated me to the status of go-fer, which is much more comfortable to me. Growing up, my parents had very different cooking styles. My dad specialized in Hamburger Helper, and my mom was most talented at ordering from Golden Cheng down the block. Not exactly the perfect set up to produce a master chef.
Mister: Can you grab the scallions?
Me: (Using my expert detective skills) There are no scallions.
Mister: Did you try looking in the crisper?
And there, looking back up at me from the crisper, were the parsnips. Not small or round or red. And clearly labeled in a bag that said "Parsnips" in a cheery font.
It occurred to me suddenly why the small round red vegetables I had put into the pot had looked so familiar. But personally, I think those 2 red potatoes really made the difference.
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