We were making our way through a series of chef-crafted tidbits at Blue Hill at Stone Barns when two creamy turnips arrived. After twirling them in sea salt, we took a bite and sat back to marvel at the sensation: crunchy and ultra juicy, like an apple, but with a subtle pepperiness.

Of course, these weren’t ordinary turnips. They’d received a privileged upbringing on a Rockefeller estate, but the experience brought to mind how infrequently turnips go in my shopping basket. Sometimes I throw a few into a beef stew but that’s about it. Same story for escarole. It’s not on my list unless needed for an Italian white bean soup.

Turnips and escarole are among the wallflowers of the produce aisle, leading a neglected life with mustard greens, kohlrabi and, above all, rutabagas. All too easy to pass by, these homely roots and gangly greens lack the exotic glamour of frisée, ramps and French radishes.

I recounted the turnip story to my friend Masayo while walking along the acqueduct that runs between New York City and our Hudson Valley homes. As the author of Serves One, I sometimes encounter people reluctant to spend 15 minutes making dinner for themselves. Fortunately, there are solo cooks like Masayo, who not only loves to cook, but routinely makes a 20-mile round trip to visit the store with what she considers the freshest fish in our area, followed by a stop at her preferred produce store.

Masayo, it turns out, is on intimate terms with turnips. When she’s lucky enough to find small ones with the greens still attached, she cuts them in thin slices and sprinkles generously with salt. While waiting for the turnips to wilt, Masayo chops the greens and blanches them. Once the salt is rinsed off, the two are reunited in a dressing of soy sauce and lemon juice—a little olive oil and lemon zest are nice but optional.

These days I’m not only looking at turnips in a new light, but noticing other bounty that’s been right before my eyes. Anyone have a good rutabaga recipe?

Featured Recipe: Escarole Gratin in a Skillet