Hearty Rootstew Royale

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As prepared at The Copper Ladle Tavern in Westmere

When the winds begin to bite and the windowpanes hum in their frames, there is one dish that graces the tables of Eyehasseen with a kind of solemn authority: Rootstew Royale. Neither humble nor ostentatious, it is the culinary embodiment of the realm itself—rooted, resilient, and just a touch mysterious.

This is no ordinary root stew. It is not hurried nor haphazard. It is a slow-cooked mosaic of the earth’s quiet treasures, rendered noble by patience and firelight. In taverns, abbeys, and home hearths alike, it is served with reverence, often in heavy crockery with a slab of buttered brown bread and a flagon of something robust.

The Copper Ladle Tavern in Westmere, long regarded as one of the nation’s stewing sanctuaries, kindly offered us their version—beloved by merchants, mendicants, and mildly argumentative philosophers alike.

🥕 Ingredients

  • 3 large parsnips, peeled and chopped
  • 2 golden potatoes, scrubbed but unpeeled
  • 1 celeriac root, cubed (optional but noble)
  • 4 carrots, sliced thickly, as dignity demands
  • 1 medium leek, cleaned and sliced (not too finely)
  • 2 cloves garlic, crushed with ceremony
  • 1 handful barley
  • 1 tbsp mustard seeds, lightly toasted
  • 1 bay leaf, aged and slightly curled
  • 1 tsp thyme, dried or respectfully stolen from the abbey garden
  • 6 cups vegetable stock (or bone broth for the carnivorously inclined)
  • A splash of ale or cider, preferably local and left on the counter overnight
  • Salt and pepper, by instinct
  • A dollop of cream or clotted milk, for the flourish
  • Fresh parsley (optional, for the vain)

🔥 Instructions

  1. Begin the Gathering.
    Lay out your roots and speak kindly to them. (This is not strictly necessary, but it is considered good form.)
  2. The Browning Rite.
    In a heavy-bottomed pot, heat a generous spoon of dripping or oil. Add the garlic and leeks and stir until fragrant. Whisper a proverb if desired.
  3. The Assembly of Roots.
    Add parsnips, potatoes, carrots, and celeriac. Stir slowly until their edges begin to blush golden. This is the beginning of trust.
  4. Liquid Alchemy.
    Pour in your stock and cider (or ale), adding the barley, mustard seeds, bay leaf, and thyme. Bring the pot to a firm but respectful boil.
  5. The Long Simmer.
    Lower the flame and let it murmur quietly for 45 minutes to an hour. Stir occasionally, clockwise. Anticlockwise if it’s a Thursday.
  6. The Blessing of Cream.
    Add a swirl of cream or milk just before serving. Do not overdo it—this is Rootstew Royale, not Rootstew Narcissist.
  7. The Garnishing Hour.
    Serve in wide bowls. Garnish with parsley if guests are watching. Present with bread suitable for dipping and conversation.

📷 Presentation

(An accompanying black-and-white photograph appears in the print edition, depicting a steaming bowl of Rootstew Royale beside a crusty heel of bread, two spoons resting on a linen cloth, and a modest flagon of dark ale. A lantern glows in the background. All appears wholesome, righteous, and entirely worth the wait.)

Rootstew Royale is more than food—it is a declaration. It says: we are still here, the earth still feeds us, and this table—however modest—is enough.

So gather your spoons, friends. The stew is ready. The evening is long. And second helpings are not only permitted, but encouraged.