Being born to a (very) Scottish father and an English mother, one central question dominated my childhood. Not devolution of powers, not Scottish independence, not even whether poem should be pronounced ‘poem’ or ‘poyem’. The question that seemed to most vex my family was: what does a turnip look like? Is it small and purple-tinged, as my Mum would argue, or large and orange as my Dad would?
In Scotland, a turnip is a swede, and a swede is a turnip. Or (just for diplomacy’s sake) in England, a swede is a turnip, and a turnip is a swede. Something funny happened, somewhere around Hadrian’s Wall, and left many a violent vegetable dispute in its wake.
A turnip by any other name would taste as swede
Italian Recipe Calendar