I learned to butter -roast root vegetables while practing for the CMC exam. Sweet, caramelized root vegetables folded into mashed yukon gold potatoes is amazing!
The key is to cover a heavy, roasting pan with foil to achieve a delicious, golden caramelization of the roasted parsnips... and a lot of butter!
Root Vegetables; Turnips & Rutabegas
Turnips, parsnips, carrots, rutabagas, and onions were my dad’s favorite Thanksgiving sides. He loved mashed rutabagas with sweet butter, roasted, caramelized turnips and small onions finished in a simple cream sauce.
While the rest of us thought root vegetables had a “funny smell,” he appreciated the rustic flavor, reminding him of the depression meals he grew up with as a boy.
Root vegetables—such as turnips, parsnips, rutabagas, carrots, and beets—are nutrient-dense ingredients that deliver fiber, complex carbohydrates, and steady, sustained energy.
Today, with so many beautiful, traditional sides to choose from at a holiday feast, I always make turnips as a quiet tribute to him—a reminder of where my cooking began and the flavors that shaped our table.
Prep Time: 30 min
Cooking Time: 60 min
Ingredients
Yield: 4 portions
6 ea. Turnips, Rutabagas, Parsnips, etc... peeled
4 oz Butter, diced
t.t. Salt & Pepper
How to prepare Roasted Root Vegetables
Turnip
Rutabaga
Step 1
Peel the root vegetable, using a vegetable peeler or chef's knife for the rutabega (tougher skin).
Depending on the size, it may be easier to peel first and then cut with a large knife or quarter the turnip and peel with a paring knife.
Be careful...
Step 2
Cut into wedges or dice-as long as you make all of the cuts the same and approximately 1 inch so the vegetables cook quickly and evenly.
Step 3
Place the cut root vegetables into a heavy, roasting pan and season with salt & pepper, add butter, cover with foil and roast in the oven until tender and golden brown. (about 30 minutes)
To Mash a Root Vegetable
Simply simmer peeled and diced turnips, rutabagas, carrots etc...
in salted water until tender. (about 20 minutes)
Strain the vegetables and mash, adding butter, salt and pepper.
If you add cream, be sure to heat it up first.
Try adding a little honey or maple syrup for a nice Autumn flavor.
I like to add a pinch of nutmeg, cinnamon or Chinese Five Spice for flavor.
The name "caponata" itself has a fascinating origin story. One popular theory suggests it derives from capone, the Sicilian word for mahi-mahi. Historically, wealthy Sicilian aristocrats enjoyed a sweet-and-sour fish dish. Because seafood was too expensive for the working class, local home cooks substituted fish with affordable, meaty eggplant. Over time, this creative peasant food evolved into the beloved antipasto we celebrate today, often rounded out with celery, olives, and capers.
From Talk to Action: A Chef’s Challenge for School Lunches
The legendary New York-style cheesecake was famously popularized by Lindy’s Restaurant , an iconic Theater District deli opened in 1921 by German-immigrant Leo "Lindy" Lindemann and his wife Clara . A NY-style cheesecake has a dense but velvety cream cheese base, citrus zest, and a distinct cookie-dough pastry crus t. For years, I took the bus into NYC to work in amazing restaurant kitchens. On one bus ride I met and became friends with a manager at the legendary Lindy’s Restaurant. One day, he did the ultimate honor: he shared the closely guarded, original cheesecake recipe with me. This new recipe is directly inspired by that legendary Lindy’s classic, capturing its iconic velvety richness and signature flavor profile, but re-engineered for a modern, protein-packed lifestyle. Why This Recipe Delivers High-protein swap : Cottage cheese provides a clean, protein-packed base that replaces heavy fats without sacrificing richness. Silky texture : Blending the batter thoroughly ensures a velvety smooth consistency that rivals any NY-style cake. Savory-approved : Simple, foolproof assembly that requires no pastry-chef precision to get a perfect bake every time.
One of the great pleasures of my career is spending time each year working as a Culinary Educator aboard a cruise ship alongside my wife. She teaches baking & pastry while I focus on savory cooking and culinary techniques. Our travels take us to fascinating ports around the world, providing opportunities to explore local markets and study regional cuisines. I have a particular affection for the Mediterranean and always make it a point to seek out local variations of pesto, one of the world's great culinary treasures. One evening aboard ship, the pasta station served rigatoni with a choice of pesto, marinara, or Alfredo sauce. The cook prepared each order by reheating the pasta in hot water and then finishing it briefly in a sauté pan with the selected sauce. I watched in disbelief as he prepared to heat the pesto exactly the same way. "Horror!" flashed through my mind. Pesto is not a cooked sauce. Heating it aggressively dulls the fresh basil aroma, darkens its vibrant color, and diminishes the delicate flavors of basil, garlic, pine nuts, and extra virgin olive oil that make pesto so special. I may have startled the cook when I quickly called out, "Please don't cook my pesto!" Instead, I asked him to simply toss the hot rigatoni with the pesto off the heat, allowing the warmth of the pasta to gently release the fragrance and flavor of the basil. The result was exactly as pesto was intended to be enjoyed—fresh, vibrant, aromatic, and unmistakably Mediterranean.
As chefs, we spend years mastering sauté work. I remember my early days working the sauté station for lunch in a French restaurant in NYC. We served over one hundred guests in an hour-and the food was excellent — a dozen hot pans on the flat top, stocks simmering, mise en place of freshly chopped herbs, minced shallots, butter for mounting into sauces à la minute. There is rhythm to good sauté cooking. You learn quickly that great sauté work is not about rushing — it is about organization and control .
Beyond Sweet Basil: An Herb with History, Health, and Global Range
Our Easter and Christmas meals were feasts... my mother's family all met at Aunt Flora's home in Jersey City to enjoy and celebrate the holidays. Dinner began with platters of fresh mozzarella, roasted peppers, olives, Italian bread, then a pasta course (manicotti or lasagna for the religious holidays), a roast or sausages with plenty of vegetables and traditional Italian desserts with dark coffee.We ate Italian Easter Wheat Pie one day each year—and it was never store-bought. My Aunts brought Easter cookies and baked goods-the wheat pie was my favorite. I loved the slight 'bite' of the wheat and flavors of cinnamon, vanilla and citrus. My father sometimes let me have a sip of his espresso with the dessert. I'm not sure if my mother used lard for the pie crust-she was a fan of butter and Crisco but the crust was always flaky.
There are certain dishes that stay with you—not just for their flavor, but for what they represent. For me, roasting a leg of lamb over Pommes boulangère is one of those meals. I don't recall having lamb at any occasions growing up so this was a dish that I proudly introduced to our family. As a young cook, it was something I could prepare with limited experience, and it provided deeply satisfying results. The lamb roasts in the oven over a bed of potatoes, onions, and garlic, allowing its natural juices and fat to baste the vegetables below. It's actually a simple preparation but becomes a complete, delicious meal—the potatoes absorbing flavor and becoming just as important as the roast itself. These days I'm developing delicious recipes using spice blends such as Ras el hanout, Baharat, Za'atar, Togarashi and even Harissa. I also love roasting leg of lamb outdoors on a grill or rotisserie. I like the subtle smokiness from applewood or dried herbs when I'm roasting lamb outdoors.
There are certain dishes that stay with you—not just for their flavor, but for what they represent. For me, Pommes boulangère is one of those dishes. As a young cook, it was a delicious meal I could prepare for my family with my limited culinary experience. I often return to this preparation when roasting whole chicken, pork, or lamb—letting the potatoes, onions, and garlic absorb the natural juices from the protein as it cooks. The potatoes becomes more than a side dish; it’s the foundation of the meal.
There are countless versions of Potatoes au gratin , many of them heavy with cheese. I prefer a more restrained approach—using little or no cheese—so the flavor of the potatoes remains the focus rather than being masked. Milk produces a lighter, more delicate gratin, while light or heavy cream creates a richer, more structured dish. Both are valid—it simply depends on the desired outcome. One constant, however, is nutmeg. Used sparingly, it acts as a quiet “secret weapon,” adding depth without calling attention to itself. This recipe is inspired by Xavier LeRoux, one of the finest chefs I’ve had the privilege to work with. His method includes an extra step—gently simmering the potatoes in cream before baking—which yields a noticeably superior result. The potatoes begin to release their starch into the cream early, ensuring a more uniform texture and a fully integrated dish from the first bite to the last.