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Turnip Soufflé — Learning a Vegetable the Way You Learn a Language

The Wallingford house has been ours for a month. I am learning the sounds — the way the floor creaks near the bathroom, the radiator's tick in Hana's room, the maple tree's branches tapping the kitchen window when the wind comes off the Sound. Every house has a language. I am learning this one the way I learned Korean: slowly, imperfectly, with attention.

Hana has discovered the backyard. Even in February, even in the gray Seattle drizzle, she wants to go outside. She stands at the back door and says "out" — her fifteenth word, deployed with increasing urgency — and I bundle her in a jacket and we walk the yard together. She touches the bark of the maple tree. She picks up wet leaves. She finds a snail and crouches to examine it with the analytical focus she inherited from David and me and probably from ancient Korean scholars who also crouched over things and examined them with seriousness. She is a croucher. She is a noticer. She will be good at whatever she does because she pays attention.

Banchan Labs: I am working on spring recipes — the namul collection returns, updated with new greens. Grace has been teaching me gosari-namul — bracken fern, rehydrated from dried, seasoned with soy and sesame. The gosari requires patience: soak overnight, boil thirty minutes, soak again. The layers of preparation are what make it extraordinary. Grace says, "Gosari is not a fast food. Gosari is a relationship." She is right. Every Korean vegetable side dish is a relationship. You meet the ingredient. You learn its needs. You give it time. You are rewarded with something that tastes like the earth and the patience combined.

The recipe this week is gosari-namul — the bracken fern that Grace has been teaching me. Dried gosari, soaked overnight in cold water. Boiled for thirty minutes until tender. Drained and cut into two-inch pieces. Sautéed in sesame oil with garlic. Seasoned with soy sauce, a splash of dashima stock, sesame seeds. Cooked until the liquid is absorbed and the fern is glossy and tender. The texture is chewy, almost meaty. The flavor is deep and earthy. This is ancestral Korean food — the food of mountains, of foragers, of grandmothers who knew which ferns to pick and when. Grace knows. Jisoo knows. I am learning. The learning takes time. The time is the point.

Grace’s lesson about gosari — that it is a relationship, not a fast food — stayed with me all week, and it changed the way I looked at every vegetable in my kitchen. The turnip, so easy to overlook, so easy to boil to mush and forget, suddenly seemed like something worth paying attention to. Hana crouches over snails in the backyard and gives them her full focus. I owe the turnip at least that much. This soufflé is what happened when I slowed down, gave a humble root vegetable some time and heat and care, and let it become something quietly extraordinary.

Turnip Soufflé

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 2 cups turnips, peeled and cubed (about 2 medium turnips)
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus extra for greasing
  • 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 3/4 cup whole milk, warmed
  • 3 large eggs, separated
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon white pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
  • 1/4 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
  • 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar

Instructions

  1. Cook the turnips. Place cubed turnips in a medium saucepan, cover with cold salted water, and bring to a boil. Cook 15–18 minutes until completely tender when pierced with a fork. Drain thoroughly and mash until very smooth. Set aside to cool slightly.
  2. Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter a 1-quart soufflé dish generously and dust lightly with Parmesan. Set aside.
  3. Make the base. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Whisk in flour and cook 1–2 minutes, stirring constantly, until the mixture is pale golden and smells nutty. Gradually whisk in the warm milk, whisking until smooth and thickened, about 3 minutes.
  4. Combine. Remove the pan from heat. Stir in the mashed turnip, salt, white pepper, and nutmeg. Add egg yolks one at a time, stirring well after each addition. Stir in the Parmesan.
  5. Whip the whites. In a clean bowl, beat egg whites with cream of tartar until stiff peaks form. Do not overbeat.
  6. Fold gently. Stir one large spoonful of the beaten whites into the turnip base to loosen it. Then gently fold in the remaining whites in two additions, using a rubber spatula in slow, deliberate strokes. Stop as soon as no white streaks remain.
  7. Bake. Pour the batter into the prepared soufflé dish. Bake 25–28 minutes until the soufflé is well risen, golden on top, and set at the edges but still has a slight wobble at the center. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 380mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 465 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

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