In today's CTrib, Phil Vettel writes:
No more rutabaga! I mean it. Don't get me wrong; I love root vegetables. Roast me up some beets, throw a turnip in the blender and I'm a happy guy. But it's the end of March. Subterranean vegetables have been a part of Chicago menus since, oh, October. And if I have one more hunk of braised meat on a bed of parsnip puree, I'm going to do something drastic. Like move to Mexico. I've given a name to my pain: Culinary Cabin Fever. It's caused by a prolonged, harsh winter and an endless stream of seasonal menus.
I hear your Phil. I mean who's suffered more from the endless winter then me and my apple loving daughters. I should be like, "right on bro", right? I'm not. Sure, I get the bit of humor in his rant, but frankly, the bit did not ring true. I think the end of the article gives it away.
Chicago's most respected produce wholesaler offers this advice to Phil:
"We're starting to get strawberries," he says, "and the answer is, look to Florida. I love the Florida berry. And in the early spring, first off, we'll see the fiddlehead ferns, morels from the woods, ramps. Green garlic—it's wonderful for soup. Then the rhubarb, and finally the California delta asparagus."Does that sound like a man living off his root cellar?