Gobō, or burdock root, really looks like a root when you buy it in the supermarket. About one meter long, coated with a layer of dirt, gobō will poke conspicuously out of your shopping bag and most likely not fit inside your Japanese-sized refrigerator without first being cut in half. But the flavor of gobō is as singular as its appearance; "earthy" is the word that comes to mind, or maybe "rooty" (which actually is a word, believe it or not). Like mushrooms, it is a good thing to eat in autumn.

Though gobō is full of fiber and other nutrients -- it's used as a medicine in China -- Japan is the only country in the world where it is a traditional part of the diet. This may be why I once received a spontaneous round of applause for eating a gobō sushi roll. It may also be why, when I asked my mother what her favorite food was during her trip to Japan, I was so happy to hear, "That gobō thing!" She's no wishy-washy California-roll-and-tempura-only-eater, my mom.

To prepare gobō, rinse it under running water while scraping away the dirt with the back of a knife. Most of the flavor is found in the skin, so avoid peeling too much of it away while cleaning the root. (The gobō pictured here is clean and unpeeled.) After being cut, it will begin to discolor, but it will turn brown in cooking anyway, so this is not a problem. Some people prefer to soak the cut pieces in acidulated water to reduce the earthiness, but I am not one of these anti-rooty people.

A popular gobō dish is kimpira, a mixture of gobō and carrots sauteed in sugar, sake and soy sauce, and sprinkled with chili powder. Lately I've been eating it in gomoku meshi, rice cooked with assorted vegetables in seasoned stock. You can also throw it into stir-fries or stewed vegetable dishes, anything begging for a bit of earthiness during these cool autumn nights.