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Salad Turnip and Vegetable Memories.

(post, Cristin Couzens)

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Long  rows of mounded dirt with more vegetables growing in one place than I’d ever seen.  Hollow gourds hung from trees, birds poking their heads from a carved out hole.  A piece of a crisp, juicy, pearl white turnip freshly pulled from the ground, cut with a pocket knife, and given to me as a taste of what the garden had to offer.  I must have been six or seven, and I was on a  private tour of my Grandfather’s garden.  I’ve never forgotten the taste of that turnip, nor have I tasted it since.

Until this week. 

I had a hunch the salad turnips from Square Peg Farms may be of the same variety that I tasted long ago.  Especially after talking  to Amy from Square Peg about  how she likes to eat them.  “I just pop them  in my mouth when I’m cleaning them up for the market,”  She said.  “They’re terrific raw.”

One bite and I was that little girl again, with my Grandfather on one knee, cleaning off his knife and leaning in close, interested  in what had to say about the turnip.  Back then, I remember talking about if for a long time afterward, bragging to my friends that I’d tried a turnip and  liked it.  

Such a simple gesture engendered in me a curiosity about gardens and growing things.  It’s taken awhile for it to manifest itself, but I think finding the salad turnip is a sign I’m on the right track.

Do you have a watershed vegetable memory to share?  I’d love to hear it.

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