Duncan Reid
The Roots That See Us Through
There is a particular kind of Scottish evening — dreich, dark by four, the wind worrying at the window — that calls for a pot on the hob and something rooty and orange bubbling away inside it. Neeps, carrots, tatties, a bit of onion. Nothing fancy. Nothing flown in. Just the vegetables that have grown in Scottish soil for centuries and know exactly how to fill a kitchen with warmth.
Slow cooking suits these vegetables because they ask for it. They are dense, sweet and generous, and they reward patience in a way that a rushed twenty-minute supper never quite manages. A neep needs an hour to soften and sweeten; give it two and it becomes something else entirely. Here is how to make the most of them, whether you are feeding a household or simply filling the freezer for the weeks ahead.
Knowing Your Neeps, Carrots and Tatties
First, a word on naming, because it trips up plenty of visitors. In Scotland, a neep is a swede — the big, purple-topped, orange-fleshed root. What much of England calls a turnip is often a neep north of the border, while a true white turnip is a smaller, peppery thing. If a recipe from a Scottish granny says neep, buy a swede and you will be right every time.
- Swedes should feel heavy for their size, with firm, unbruised skin. Smaller ones are sweeter and easier to chop.
- Carrots keep best with their leafy tops removed — the leaves pull moisture from the root. Muddy carrots store far longer than scrubbed ones.
- Tatties for mashing and soups want a floury variety; for traybakes, a waxy one holds its shape. Buy loose if you can, so you take only what you need.
Store the lot somewhere cool, dark and airy — a garage, a shed, a bottom cupboard away from the cooker. A paper sack beats plastic every time, because trapped moisture is what turns a good neep soft and sorry.
A Neep and Carrot Soup for the Slow Cooker
This is the workhorse of a Scottish winter kitchen, and it costs very little. Peel and cube one medium swede (about 800g), four carrots, two onions and two floury potatoes. Soften the onions in a little butter or oil first — this is the one step worth doing on the hob, because it builds the base flavour — then tip everything into the slow cooker with 1.2 litres of stock, a bay leaf, a good pinch of salt and plenty of black pepper.
Cook on low for six to seven hours, or high for three to four. Fish out the bay leaf, then blend until smooth, or leave it rustic if you prefer texture. Stir through a splash of cream, a knob of butter or a spoon of crème fraîche, and taste again for salt. A grating of nutmeg is traditional in some households; a pinch of dried chilli is a more modern comfort.
One useful bit of folklore with a basis in fact: a hard frost is said to sweeten roots, and it genuinely does. Cold converts stored starch to sugar, which is why a neep lifted after a cold snap tastes noticeably sweeter than one dug in September.
Roasts and Traybakes for a Cold Evening
Slow roasting does something wonderful to root vegetables — the edges caramelise, the centres go custardy, and the whole tray tastes of far more effort than you put in. Heat the oven to 180°C fan (200°C conventional). Cut swede, carrots, potatoes and a couple of onions into roughly equal chunks, toss with oil, salt, pepper and a few sprigs of thyme or rosemary, and spread them out in a single layer.
Roast for fifty to sixty minutes, turning once at the halfway point. Add whole unpeeled garlic cloves for the last twenty minutes and squeeze them out over the tray afterwards. A spoonful of honey or a scattering of caraway seeds suits neeps particularly well, and a splash of cider vinegar at the end lifts the whole thing.
This tray is a meal with sausages laid among the vegetables, a side for a roast, or the filling for a pie the next day. It also reheats beautifully in a hot oven, which matters more in January than any of us like to admit.
Batch Cooking Without the Slog
Slow cooking and batch cooking are natural companions, because the pot is doing the work while you get on with something else. A few habits make it gentler still.
- Cook once, eat three times. Double the soup and freeze half in portion-sized containers, flat, so they stack and thaw quickly.
- Roast a full oven. If the oven is on for an hour, fill every shelf. Extra roasted roots keep for four days in the fridge.
- Label with the date. Soups and roasts keep well for three months frozen; a scrap of masking tape saves a lot of guessing.
- Cool quickly. Spread hot food in a shallow dish before refrigerating so it drops out of the danger zone promptly.
Waste Not: Peels, Tops and Leftovers
Carrot tops make a decent, slightly bitter herb — chop them finely into soups or a herby oil. Clean peelings from well-washed roots can be simmered with an onion and a bay leaf for twenty minutes to make a light stock, then strained. Even a tired neep has life left: blitz it into soup rather than binning it.
Leftover mashed tatties and neeps, mixed with a little flour and an egg, fry into excellent little cakes the next morning. Any soup that has thickened too much simply wants a splash of water or milk. It is not a chore, this kind of cooking. It is just the old Scottish way — a pot, a bit of patience, and nothing wasted.
