The anything but humble carrot can be prepped many ways
“You ask me what life is,” wrote the great Russian playwright Anton Chekhov. “That’s like asking what a carrot is. A carrot is a carrot, and there’s nothing more to know.” Well, Anton, I think there’s a lot more that can be said and known about the matter.
Almost everyone loves a carrot, from toddlers clutching the little batons to grown-ups at holiday feasts, where a gleaming platter of roasted carrots radiates a deeper, more complex type of sweetness. I can’t think of another vegetable with such wide appeal.
Such a treat are they, indeed, that they’re the symbolic “reward” dangling off the end of so many “punishment” sticks. “Turnip and stick,” “parsnip and stick”: They just don’t have quite the same ring — or the same vivid, bold, happy-making color, being the white, gnarly roots that they are. It’s easy to take for granted that carrots are, for the most part, orange, but it’s also interesting to dig a little below the surface, and see that it isn’t always so. Listen up, Anton! Life is complex!
Originally, orange wasn’t the predominant color for carrots; they could have equally been white, purple, dark red or black. In Holland, where orange carrots became popular in the 16th and 17th centuries, the proliferation was mythologized as a show of support to William of Orange, who ushered a revolt against the Spanish that brought about Dutch independence. Many a geneticist, however, would identify carrots’ recessive gene, and selective breeding, as explaining the predominance of the orange variety, rather than any links with the struggle for Dutch independence.
The myths are not just political. They’re biological as well. Carrots are credited with making hair on little heads curl and, of course, being able to grant the ultimate super power: being able to see in the dark. Although all the beta carotene (a vitamin A precursor) in carrots does not help keep eyes healthy, the origins of the somewhat exaggerated claims can be traced back to World War II when the Royal Air
Force was trying to divert the Germans from learning of its plans to develop radar technology. The Germans were, so the story goes, made to believe that all the carrots the British pilots were eating helped them see so well at night.
Myths, legends, baton sticks, regal weapons or revolutionary tool notwithstanding, carrots will always be a majestic vegetable for me. I love the fact that they hold their shape so well and that they don’t lose their vivid orange color when subjected to heat. These wonderful abilities to retain color, shape and texture are really what this week’s recipe is all about.
Nestled on a bed of yogurt or labneh, and green oil, the carrots jump out in their vibrancy and sharp form. This contrast is echoed in the textures — creamy yogurt, tender carrots and crunchy dukkah — as well as in a subtler flavor contrast of sweet and sharp.
When serving, I like to retain their original, elongated shape whenever possible. A carrot, like life, can be lots of different things, but I do like a carrot to look like a carrot. Maybe there is nothing more to know, after all.