Every year at Christmas I do something for Mike and Eric that I won't do at any other time of the year. I fix rutabega. Blech. This is a dish Mike's mother made for his dad. For Mike, it has always been a part of the holidays. His dad loved rutabega, Mike loves rutabega, and now Eric loves rutabega. They are the only three people I know in the world who eat it.
The food that was always on MY holiday table is my mother's cinnamon applesauce jello. It was always my favorite food at Christmas and it is now the favorite of my "normal" family members. Anyway, Mike's mother taught me how to fix rutabega the way Mike likes it. First, peel it (easier said than done) cube it and boil the hell out of it. WARNING...you will smell the hell being boiled out! The aroma of boiling dirty socks is the way I would describe it. Then mash it up with butter and salt.
Mike and his family have introduced me to many culinary delights over the years. Scottish meat pies, fern cakes, scones with Cornish clotted cream (perfection!) real fish and chips, haggis (NOT perfection!) black pudding (also NOT perfection!). I can make a pretty good Shepherd's Pie and some very good shortbread. I don't know if the rutabega that I fix is good...I won't even taste it.
When I was checking out at Wal-Mart yesterday, I had to explain rutabega to the young cashier. Let's just say, I am NOT a great "Rutabega Ambassador". I don't think she will ever cook one.