There are moments in life when our preconceptions are wiped clean by a single bite of food.
For me, the day I pulled a slender carrot from the dirt, brushed it off and took a bite was such a moment. As I snapped off a chunk, sweet juices with hints of fruitiness and a kick of mild black pepper flooded in. The crisp flesh had none of the bitterness or woodiness of the carrots I'd been eating all winter. Like all vegetables, carrots have a shining moment, and that moment is fleeting.
Carrots are a workhorse in the kitchen. Open my vegetable drawer on any given day and you'll find a bag of carrots, patiently waiting to be thrown into a soup or salad. But spring brings the first bunches of ultra-fresh, finger-sized carrots to stores, ready to make you fall in love with carrots all over again. We'll have to wait a minute for the local carrots to pop up at farmers markets, but California carrots make for a tasty dress rehearsal.
Let's take a minute to appreciate the humble carrot, glorious and colorful as it is.
The vegetable's colorful past
We know it as a weed, but Queen Anne's lace is the wild grandmother of carrots and can still crossbreed with garden carrots.
Carrot cultivation tracks back to around 3000 B.C. in Iran and Afghanistan, and its popularity quickly spread. Early carrots were valued more for their seeds and leaves than the root. They're a close relative to parsley and cilantro; carrot tops can be used in place of parsley, so don't throw them away.
Those first carrots were purple or yellow, not orange. There's a colorful story crediting the Dutch with creating orange carrots in the 16th century as a tribute to their ruling family, the House of Orange, but it's only a lively bit of fiction. The House of Orange did give the orange carrot some "branding" and class by naming it the "royal vegetable," but orange carrots started appearing in Spanish and Italian paintings in the 15th century. The Dutch bred some delicious varieties and helped popularize the orange carrot via their fleets of merchant ships.