By October, and the deer season preparations begin the way they always do — quietly, methodically, with a long conversation between River and me about what we're looking for, where the deer have been moving, what the land needs. We've been managing this part of the property for food for fifteen years and there's an accumulated knowledge of it that neither of us could fully articulate but that we both carry, a map of where the deer water and where they browse and which way they go when they're pushed.
River is seventeen and a half and applying to colleges, which still surprises me when I think about it directly. He wants to study land management or environmental science — he's been talking to Lucia about her program and has visited OSU twice. He applied to three schools and is waiting. He told me that whatever happens with college, he's coming back here after. Not immediately but eventually. He wants land of his own adjacent to family land. He said it the way he says things, matter-of-fact, already decided, just informing me. I said that sounded right to me. He nodded and went back to sharpening his knife.
Wren came out for the weekend before the season opened. She'd been asking since August and I'd said yes and then the date arrived. She helped me hang the processing area in the barn, prepped the tools, asked questions about shot placement with the same precision she brings to kitchen questions. She wanted to understand why before she would accept how. At eleven she's more careful and more patient than I was at eleven. That's not a low bar — I was careful and patient at eleven. She clears it easily.
The food forest is quieter now, the last of the harvest in, and the land has taken on the waiting quality that means winter is close but not here yet. This is one of my favorite weeks of the year. Everything in preparation. Nothing yet concluded.
That week before the season opens — everything in preparation, nothing yet concluded — always pulls me toward the root vegetables. The food forest had given its last and the parsnips were ready, and after an afternoon with Wren hanging the processing area and talking shot placement with the same careful attention she brings to everything, I wanted something that came straight from the ground and asked nothing complicated of me. Mashed parsnips are what I made that evening: simple, a little sweet, a little earthy, the kind of thing that feeds people who’ve been working and thinking and getting ready for something.
Mashed Parsnips
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 lbs parsnips, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1/3 cup whole milk or heavy cream, warmed
- 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon white pepper
- 1 clove garlic, peeled (optional)
- Fresh chives or parsley for garnish (optional)
Instructions
- Boil the parsnips. Place peeled, chopped parsnips (and garlic clove if using) in a medium pot and cover with cold salted water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a steady simmer. Cook 18—20 minutes, until parsnips are completely tender when pierced with a fork.
- Drain and dry. Drain parsnips thoroughly in a colander. Return them to the warm pot over low heat for 1—2 minutes, shaking gently, to evaporate any remaining moisture. This keeps the mash from turning watery.
- Mash and enrich. Remove pot from heat. Add butter and mash with a potato masher or pass through a ricer for a smoother texture. Pour in the warmed milk or cream gradually, stirring and mashing until you reach your desired consistency — leave it a little rustic or work it smooth, your call.
- Season. Add salt and white pepper. Taste and adjust. Parsnips have a natural sweetness; don’t oversalt, but don’t be shy either.
- Serve. Transfer to a warm serving bowl and top with a small pat of butter and fresh chives or parsley if you have them.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 30g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 320mg