I had never actually made turnip chips before. It was time to ask the boy. It went something like this:
Me: Am I supposed to find a recipe for your class? Are you studying turnips?
Boy: My teacher wants the recipe you make. I told her about it.
Me: But I've never made turnip chips.
Boy: You know, the ones you make where some are really crispy and some are really soft, and they're really delicious. Those turnip chips.
(I must interject here. What mother doesn't glow when her son waxes poetic about a vegetable?)
Me: Oh -- you mean the potato chips I make?
Boy: Those are potatoes?
This went on a while, and we ended up deciding to roast some turnip chips. The original potato recipe isn't something I would have blogged about. It's not really even a recipe; I just slice potatoes and roast them. But here goes -- this is for the boy:
I peeled three turnips, and sliced them into rounds. I do this by hand for two reasons: I like the rustic look of irregular slices, and the way they cook up (that's what the boy meant when he said some were crispy and some were soft); and just looking at my mandoline makes my fingers instinctively curl up in self-preservation mode.
These chips don't quite make it to crispy. They are so absolutely delicious, however, that it doesn't matter. The slow-roasting brings out incredible sweetness and the caramelized edges develop a lovely chewiness. Now that I know how they behave with this treatment, I can't wait to fan them out over a serving platter and top them with grilled fish. Or roasted chicken. Or whatever.