1. Pretend to be French and eat them naked with a smear of butter or [if you’d rather be full out Canadian] find some of those giant ones and bite into them like apples while watching the playoffs in a seasonal toque.
2. Slice and spread them on a shallow dish. Cover with a splash of some tasty vinegar for at least a few hours—overnight works if you want pickled radishes for breakfast. Eat with goat cheese and chives.
3. Take them on a picnic to the beach, slice off the bottoms and poke half with yellow toothpicks and half with blue. Play radish checkers on your tablecloth. Or make a wreath with bunches tied to a wire frame and when they wilt, make soup.
4. Roast them whole. Roast several varieties together. Trim the tails but leave a bit of leaf. Toss with olive oil, salt and pepper, a herb or two of your choice. Thyme is good. 350 degrees for 40 minutes or so. Turn them now and then.
5. Sauté, sliced, in a pan of unsalted butter. That’s it. If you insist on getting complicated, throw around some salt and pepper.
6. Add chopped to salsa.
7. Add shredded to coleslaw.
8. Add sliced to potato salad.
9. Make pesto with the leaves, or sauté them, or use in salad or soup.
10. Make kimchi. Or radish rosettes and pretend it’s 1978.
11. Make a date to drive north with family or friends, plan to stay a few days but don’t bother booking a room because you’re sure you’ll find something once you get there. Leave late and get into traffic; if possible do so on a rainy summer night. Get cranky when it becomes evident that available rooms and cabins aren’t quite as willy nilly as you’d thought. Try to work it so the rain on that rainy summer night just keeps coming down harder and harder until you can hardly see the road and all your friends and family are freely expressing their terror about where they might spend the night. In the moment just before mutiny, find a sign through the blur of your soggy windshield: Vacancy. Take the over-priced 2 square metre room and huddle with friends and family around a miniature table. Open your cooler. Take out the iced coffee, the jug of Kool-Aid, the bottle of wine. Take out the loaf of sliced rye, the butter, the salt. Take out the radishes and the knife. Make an entire loaf’s worth of open-face radish sandwiches. Listen to the rain. Tell some stories. Remember this as one of the best holidays ever.
4 thoughts on “when thoughts turn to radishes, as they inevitably will — what to do with them? the radishes, i mean”
the way your mind works … radishes. Wonderful photo too.
Oh but, Mary, I so love radishes that it’s hardly a stretch. Have loved them since that dark and stormy summer night when a cabin was all but impossible to find and the radishes were plentiful and all we had…
The versatile radish meets the versatile Matilda.
And a happier meeting there never was. (: