Swede has a longstanding PR problem.
It’s one of the cheapest vegetables in the supermarket, and available pretty much all year round, and yet, aside from pasties, mash and an afterthought in a stew, ideas for what to do with it seem to be in short supply.
Swede can perhaps seem a little intimidating; it’s quite a heavy lump to cart home from the supermarket, and as I accidentally blooped on Daily Kitchen Live a couple of weeks ago, it’s ‘quite a big thing to get your hands around’. Ah, the cursed mix of live television, first time nerves, and a complete lack of filtering between my thoughts and my out-loud words.
As indelicately as I communicated it, swede is indeed unwieldy, stubborn, and emanates a subtle scent of digestive distress as it starts to boil; a promise of terrible things to come. And yet, despite my many misgivings, and after several requests from my readers about what to do with their own hefty rounded roots, I found myself drawn to a whole pile of them in the markdown chiller at my local Express offshoot of a supermarket a few days ago, a steal at twelve pence apiece.
I checked the time; the store closed in twenty minutes. There were easily a dozen swedes mournfully bearing their beseeching yellow stickers. I picked up four, paid, and stuffed them in my backpack. I had to stop twice on the walk home to regret my profligacy and roll out my shoulders, but by now, I was committed.
I worked my way methodically through the index sections of my many, many cookbooks, starting with all those that promised ‘farmhouse’ or ‘British’ fare. Swede recipes were elusive, and tempted as I was to give up, this wholesale rejection of them in mainstream cookery only made me more determined to dig in. I bookmarked turnip and parsnip recipes for points of reference, and started to make a list of ideas. I emerged at 2am, a towering Jenga of books looming precariously on the edge of the dining table, with 132 scrawled bullet points and now, too much choice for my four out-of-date vegetables.
Nigel Slater says ‘there is no joy in an underdone swede’, and that you must ‘take them to the edge of collapse’ when cooking. I’m inclined to wholeheartedly agree.
My favourite way of cooking a swede, and the most effortless, is to sling it in the microwave. Spear it vertically from top to bottom with a sharp knife, or at least to halfway through – its equator, if you like. Microwave on full power for ten minutes, then rest it for two, and repeat for ten minutes more. Known as a ‘singing swede’ for the high pitched whistle it emanates, this method requires no fiddly peeling, no slicing or dicing, and yields a buttersoft and mashable vegetable with absolutely no effort whatsoever.
Should you want to boil it, you needn’t peel your swede at all. Slice thickly – I find a bread knife and a firm hand best for this – then dice it. Cover with cold, salty water, bring to the boil, and then cover and simmer for 20-25 minutes, depending on how large your pieces are. Serve tossed in butter and plenty of black pepper, and don’t scrimp on either if you don’t have to.
Roasted swede starts to tilt towards the flavour of a rich butternut squash; amplifying in both colour and sweetness as the edges caramelise and the scant juices that it yields reduce and intensify. Again, dice in its skin and toss in oil, salt and pepper, and roast at 180C for 40ish minutes to get the best out of it, shaking the tin halfway through to loosen and cook evenly.
Aside from a side, swede pairs well when folded into any dish with a generous helping of bacon, such as a carbonara, or a swede, chestnut and bacon soup. You can use it as the base for a white bean and bacon casserole enriched with cider, garlic and thyme, or mash it into a bubble and squeak patty with scraps of bacon and cabbage for good measure.
Anna Jones folds hers into swede, cheese and garlic scones, the Riverford Farm cookbook suggests a swede and ham hock soup, which could easily be replicated with scraps of bacon.
You could thickly grate it and use it in place of carrot in a hearty slaw, with a dash of lemon in place of the usual vinegar to lift and brighten it.
Sarah Raven’s Garden Cookbook, one of my absolute bibles for inspiration for miscellaneous vegetables, suggests either roasting it with maple syrup, or mashing to a puree and spiking with bourbon for a warming, grown-up treat.
Its baseline of earthy sweetness also makes it a perfect vehicle for curry flavours, such as curry-powder rubbed wedges, or diced into a dhansak or massaman. You can mash it and serve as the base for hearty tomato-based meals like bolognese, ragu, and gigantes plaki, or grate it into bhajis with plenty of turmeric, mango chutney and garam masala.
In short, you can leaf through endless recipes for potato, parsnip, turnip and squash, and replace them with an equal quantity of swede, and they’re pretty much guaranteed to turn out okay. With a last honourable mention to buttery swede mash as the base for an upside-down fish pie, topped with creamy smoked haddock, white fish, and peas.
How to make an upside-down fish pie with swede
Ingredients:
- 500g swede
- 1/2 tsp salt
- 1 small onion or 100g frozen onion
- 25g butter
- 2 tbsp flour
- Black pepper
- 300ml milk
- 1 bay leaf, optional
- 2 cloves, optional
- ½ tsp mustard, any
- 400g fish, a combination of smoked and unsmoked works best
- 50g butter
50g grated cheese, like cheddar
First dice your swede; you can leave the skin on if you give it a good scrub, as it softens and the colour fades out when it’s boiled. Pop it into a pan of generously salted water, and bring to the boil. Reduce to a simmer, and simmer for 20-30 minutes, until very tender.
While the swede is cooking, prepare the sauce for your fish.
Peel and finely slice your onion, and transfer to a large pan, along with the butter. Set on a low-medium heat, and cook, stirring intermittently, for 7-8 minutes until the onion starts to soften. Add the flour and plenty of black pepper, and stir to coat the onions. Add a splash of milk, stirring continuously to loosen, and continue until all of the milk is incorporated. Add the bay, clove, and mustard, and stir well to combine.
Reduce to the lowest heat on the smallest hob ring for a few minutes, then remove from the heat entirely while the swede continues to boil. The flavours from the bay and clove will continue to infuse the sauce as it cools, so it does make sense to do this early on to impart a fuller flavour.
When the swede is almost cooked, fry the fish in a clean pan on a high heat, then pour the sauce over the top. Stir well to warm through and combine, loosening with a splash more milk or water if required.
Drain the swede and mash well with cheese and butter. Serve in bowls with the fish and sauce piled on top of the swede mash, and enjoy!
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