The parsnip, the carrot’s poor cousin, just doesn’t get the respect it deserves. This blond starchy member of the umbellifera family was once widely popular in Europe (think ancient Rome through the Middle Ages), but has become a culinary oddity in contemporary Europe and the U.S. Not that it doesn’t continue to have great fans, but definitely not as many as it should.

The sweet, nutty, complexly-flavored parsnip is one of those winter vegetables that actually enjoys a freeze, in fact requiring a cold snap to turn sweet. Unlike most vegetables, it cooperates better with cold-clime residents than southerners by resting underground through cruel winters to be dug up at the diner’s convenience. This same quality allows it to remain fresh in the refrigerator for months if properly bagged.

So why isn’t the parsnip everyone’s favorite winter vegetable? Part of the fault lies with the potato. Before this New World tuber made its way across the Atlantic, parsnips provided important calories to the European population all winter long. Plus, sugar was still an expensive commodity—more like a spice than the ingredient we have way too much of in our prepared foods. The parsnip’s mild sweetness was undoubtedly welcome.

But we can’t place all the blame on the potato. The parsnip indeed lacks pizzazz. To begin with, it looks strange—like a cream-colored carrot with excessively broad shoulders. Second, the name hardly resonates. Finally, some eaters just can’t live with too much sweetness in a vegetable—strange because many who gag at the notion of winter squash or beets are utterly forgiving when it comes to carrots.

Those in the know are thrilled to have discovered parsnips. On their own or mixed with other root vegetables, they make a delicious addition to a pot roast, stew or hearty soup. Brushed with a bit of olive oil and roasted, they caramelize, providing a wonderful, easy accompaniment to a baked chicken or turkey. They can be steamed, boiled and sautéed as well.

When it comes to flavoring, less is more, but a little enhancement is always a good thing. Given the parsnip’s sweetness, further sweeteners are unnecessary, but a simple spattering of nut oil deepens its nutty flavor. A touch of salt and a squirt of sour create an interesting flavor tension. Indian spices—cumin, coriander, cardamom—work well. Toss in a bit of turmeric to enhance the color.

I tripped across my first parsnip at a farmstand in Massachusetts only ten years ago and fell in love with it as soon as it was cooked. All those years, all those parsnips I could have been consuming.

Don’t let it happen to you.