Every family seems to have their own traditions around food. The things that make up the Sunday night dinners of their childhood, or now, have become important to us.
For my husband’s family, the used squash as a side dish. I don’t mind squash but it’s not my favourite.
In our family, we made what we called mashed turnips.
When my husband first had a Sunday dinner at my parent’s home (a long standing tradition at our house) early on in our dating relationship, he assumed that the mashed orange vegetable on the table were squash, only to discover they were turnips. He now loves mashed turnips.
Fast forward all these years later. Here’s a recent conversation him and I had, leading up to Thanksgiving.
Him: “We could try something different” – he was referring to side dishes for Thanksgiving.
Me: “Um, no.”
Him: “You’re family hates change.”
Me: “Yes, yes we do!”
Him: “You don’t even eat mashed turnips. You are eating mashed rutabagas”
Me: “We’ve always called them turnips!”
Him: “But they aren’t, they are rutabagas. You will literally be standing in front of turnips and rutabegas at the grocery store and declare that you are buying turnips while picking up the rutabaga”
Me: “We all know what we mean! They are delicious!”
Him: “Yes, but they are not turnips. Your family hates change so much you won’t even call them by the right name!”
Me: “…”
Me: “How many turnips should I get this year?”
There’s a whole other post about tradition in this family that is brewing, and while him and I have these conversations while laughing, it doesn’t change the fact that he is right. We love us some mashed rutabaga.
Hee hee! Awesome!
They are turnips at Chez Peady, too! 😀
And we love us some turnip when holidays roll around. It’s tradition!
Rutabaga or not, they’re turnips! 😉
I bought a bag of these the other day….thinking…I don’t know what to do with them… haha. I thought they were turnips too.