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Archive for the ‘Radish’ Category

2013 0515 IMG_1748 Fava beans, leeks,radishesA cool spring day in the garden inspired a gathering of vegetables and herbs of the moment. We sat around communal bowls of freshly picked and simply prepared vegetables, one after the other. There were picturesque French breakfast radishes, tiny pungent scallions, plump stalks of asparagus with a sprinkling of olive oil and salt, rhubarb compote smeared on quinoa cakes, and this delectable medley of buttery fava beans, leeks, green garlic, crisp radishes and herbs.  We finally felt that the spring harvest had arrived.

At this time of year, you can eat the inner pods of fava beans, but here I chose to peel off the second shell. After shelling the beans from the long green pods they grow in, you plunge them in boiling water for less than a minute, shock them in cold water and pierce the pod just enough to be able to squeeze the bright green centers onto a plate. We prepared the favas as we were eating our successive plates of vegetables.

Slender spring leeks and green garlic that I thinned from our burgeoning patch were simmered in olive oil and a little water in a covered pan until they were softened. (When cooking leeks this way, it’s important not to let them brown since they can get tough and bitter. Better to brown them after they’re fully cooked if that’s the result you want.) I tossed in chopped tarragon and mint to the cooked leeks and green garlic and added more to the finished dish. By the way, bean-sized pieces of meaty smoked bacon are dynamite with this mixture of vegetables

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Braised and glazed. That was the theme of several of the vegetable dishes at our Thanksgiving feast. I recalled a wonderful radish braise from a few Christmases ago, when I still thought that cooking and serving goose to young children was a good idea. Ha. I had had a bunch of so-called Easter egg radishes from our CSA and braised them in butter, a small amount of sugar and chicken stock, reduced until the radishes were glazed. But today, with dietary preferences that eschew dairy and meat, it was time for Plan B. I substituted olive oil for butter, and boiled cider syrup for sugar and chicken stock. 

Cooked this way, radishes retain their original range of colors though somewhat muted, and their characteristic bite gives way to a mild but distinctive flavor that slightly resembles young turnips. The boiled cider syrup was remarkable, making the final dish as delicious as it was picturesque. I made the syrup a week in advance but since it keeps so well, I could have made it earlier. Boiled cider syrup is just what it sounds like: cider cooked down to a syrupy consistency. It’s both sweet and tangy, and very useful for glazing roasted or braised vegetables. In addition to glazing cooked radishes, we poured it on roasted rutabagas and sweet potatoes at Thanksgiving. It also works as a glaze for poultry and pork.

When cooking with radishes, it is important to clean them well. I harvested these myself so I knew they were sandy.  After topping and tailing them and scrubbing them with a vegetable brush, I soaked them in cold water for 10 minutes, swooshing them around and changing the water once. From what looked like perfectly clean radishes came an amazing amount of fine grit.

Braised Radishes with Boiled Cider Syrup

Top, tail and thoroughly clean 2 bunches of radishes. Place radishes in one layer in a pan with a tight fitting lid, and add water to a depth of about ¼ inch, a splash of olive oil (or use butter), and a big pinch of salt. Bring the liquid to a boil, lower the heat, cover the pan and cook gently, stirring the radishes a few times until crisp-tender, about 5 minutes depending on the size and age of your radishes.

Uncover the pan, raise the heat to medium high and cook, stirring, until the liquid evaporates and the radishes sizzle and brown a little in the residual olive oil. Add a tablespoon or so of boiled cider syrup (see below) and stir to coat, lower the heat and cook until the radishes are tender, about 3-4 minutes.

Boiled Cider Syrup

For ¾-1 cup syrup, start with 1 quart of apple cider, preferably locally produced. Pasteurized is fine but avoid cider that contains preservatives. Place the cider in a large saucepan and bring it to a boil over medium heat. Reduce the heat to medium low and cook until it has reduced to ¾-1 cup, 3-4 hours. (Before you start, it’s helpful to measure out the final amount and place it into the pot, making note of the depth. This is easier than pouring out the contents to see f it’s sufficiently reduced.) Strain through a few layers of cheesecloth and store in capped jar in the refrigerator. It keeps for months.

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Calm after the devastating hurricane, we are still collecting our thoughts as well as our stuff. With makeshift battened down windows and tree parts strewn everywhere, this place is a mess. In the midst of chaos, in waltzes this pretty little radish risotto, like a wide-eyed ingénue, acting like spring was awakening instead of the coming dark days. It was refreshing. This risotto was especially delicious because of the broth. While I would typically use homemade chicken stock, I defrosted a lovely flavorful late spring vegetable broth made from leek greens and pea pods, part of the plan to rid the fridge and freezer of anything that might have gotten too warm during the prolonged power outage.  I have to remember to make and store this broth again next year. The grated radish and slivered radish greens added at the end provided a nice contrast to the homey texture of the rice.   

Risotto with Radishes

½ medium onion, diced  (about ¼ c)

Olive oil and/or butter (about 1 tbsp combined)

6 or so radishes, trimmed and diced (about ½ c)

1 c Arborio rice

¼ c white wine

4-5 c chicken or vegetable stock

¼ c grated Parmesan cheese (or to taste)

Salt to taste

Grated radishes and slivered radish greens

Warm the liquid. Sauté the onion in the oil and/or butter over medium-low heat until it starts to turn translucent. Add the radishes and stir to coat them with the oil. Cook for 3-4 minutes until the radishes begin to soften. Add the rice and stir to coat, cooking until the surface of the grains turns white. Add the wine and stir to allow it to evaporate and also instill the ingredients with flavor. Add 1/3 cup of warm liquid, adjusting the heat to so that the liquid just simmers and stir until it is absorbed. When the liquid is absorbed, add another 1/3 cup, wait until it’s absorbed, stirring occasionally, and then repeat until the rice is tender but still al dente. This process will take about 20-25 minutes. Taste and add salt and the grated cheese. Stir in grated radishes and slivered radish greens and sprinkle some on top.

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Creamy Radish Soup

Rushing around the field picking radishes and greens. That’s what I did right before Hurricane Sandy shut us down for days. (By the way, the best way to store radishes is to separate the greens from the roots and store them separately.  Otherwise, the leaves will pull the moisture out of the roots and they’ll both wilt. I was in such a hurry that I didn’t follow my own advice, but since I was making soup, it didn’t really matter.)

Now that we have both sunshine and power, I continued my clean-out of the freezer’s supply of chicken stock to make soup. It’s really important to stay on top of the temperature in your refrigerator and freezer during power outages so that you don’t inadvertently breed something that makes you sick. As much as I complain about my fussy electronic German fridge, the freezer temperature stayed below the freezing point for days. However, it was above the zero degrees I prefer, so the contents simply have to go. 

I like cooked radishes, so it seemed to me that soup would be a natural and it was delicious. I used a mix of colors and braised them lightly with leeks before adding a potato and chicken stock. The potato is more for texture than taste. While I added a dash of cream, it would be fine without. Radishes lose their spiciness when cooked so I added grated raw radishes and slivers of the best radish leaves. 

Creamy Radish Soup

1 leek, white and green parts only

3 bunches of radishes

1 medium-large white potato

2 tbsp butter

4 c chicken stock (or use vegetable broth)

Salt

¼ c heavy cream (optional)

Clean and trim the leek, slice it lengthwise and then crosswise. Clean and trim the radishes, reserving a few greens for garnish and the rest for another use if they’re tender.  Set aside one or two radishes for grating into the soup and cut the remainder into a course dice.  Peel and dice the potato.

Heat the butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the leeks and cook them until translucent. Add the radishes and cook them slowly in the butter until they start to get tender. Add the potatoes and stir to coat them with the butter.

Add the chicken stock and a little salt. Simmer until the vegetables are very tender, approximately 30 minutes. Puree the soup with an immersion blender or mash it if you want it coarse in texture. Avoid the food processor or use it lightly since potatoes can become gummy if over-mixed.  Add the cream if using, and adjust the salt.

Grate the reserved radish(es) and sliver the reserved radish leaves. Stir some into the soup and sprinkle some on top.

Serves 4.

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Before we are overwhelmed by the bounteous fruits and vegetables of summer, we find spring to be the time for small harvests, a few peas just coming on the vine, a radish or two, some fava beans, asparagus, some garlic scapes left curly or cut like beans.  Cooked separately by steaming or plunging briefly in boiling water) and lightly seasoned with the best olive oil and a pinch of salt, each offers an explosion of freshness. I like these combinations, sometimes referred to as “primavera” (meaning “spring”), while the weather is still cool and the garden is awakening. Whether served with pasta or simply as a vegetable or salad, they are the antipasti of the local growing season. 

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The ribbing in my household over my statement that I have rarely met a vegetable I didn’t want to roast is rivaled only by my interest in pesto. I mean “pesto” in the generic sense of a mix of ingredients that is pounded. The word comes from the Latin “pinsere,” which led to various iterations and ended in the word pesto, plus variations. Variations include “pestle,” the object used in a mortar to crush the greens. Well, that briefly sums the origins of the idea, and begs the questions of pesto’s being associated only with basil.

 

I of course make pesto made from basil, the most common iteration, but also from arugula, garlic scapes, dandelion, dill, parsley, cilantro, lovage, you name it, and in the spring, radish greens. I lightly puree herbs and other raw greens to keep in little paper tubes in the freezer over winter, but when spring comes, I crave the freshest greens served raw and only lightly dressed. I do not, contrary to tradition, see oil as a major ingredient in my pesto. I like it well chopped but slightly rough, complemented by garlic when appropriate, nuts to thicken, a little salt maybe, possibly some citrus zest and/or grated cheese, and enough oil to bind but not to overwhelm. Micro salad. Here, with well washed and tender radish greens, I used only a couple of walnuts, a little walnut oil, a tad of garlic, a pinch of salt (another over used ingredient in most pesto) and a few sprigs of mint. In retrospect, I would have preferred green garlic to the tiny clove.

Served with whole wheat spaghetti and thin crispy sliced radish bulbs, this was a delicious and refreshing spring mealThe pesto would also be delicious with steamed new potatoes.

Pesto of Radish Greens, Mint and Walnuts

Greens from 1 bunch of very fresh young radishes (1 – 1 ½ c)

8 medium large mint leaves (I used spearmint)

1 tbsp fresh walnuts

2 tsp walnut oil

Optional: 1 tsp vegetable oil or light olive oil

1 small clove garlic, minced (1/2 tsp or less)

¼ – ½ tsp salt

Serve with:

1/3 – ½ lb whole wheat spaghetti, cooked and tossed in a little olive oil and salt

2-3 radish bulbs, very thinly sliced

Whole mint leaves

Carefully wash and dry the greens, picking them over to select the most tender leaves. A few tender stems are fine. Place the greens (which can be slightly damp) in a food processor with the mint, walnuts, oil, garlic and salt, and process until well chopped. Add a little more oil if necessary.

Toss with warm spaghetti and garnish with thinly sliced radishes and mint leaves. Or with steamed new potatoes.

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March is predictably unpredictable with blustery weather (“in like a lion”) and deceptive mildness (“out like a lamb”). It is the time of anticipation and false hopes. And surprise. After a month of snow cover and a few meltingly mild days, our garden ground is finally visible, and it is green!  Hillocks of the vibrant harbinger of spring, chickweed, emerge among the twigs and mud.  Salad time!  What did you say?

Chickweed, low growing in swirls from a defined center, has edible lobe-like leaves that are slightly spicy, a tiny tame version of cress. Rich in Vitamin C, so I’m told, they are delightful replacements for raw parsley or any other little green you might use for garnish and spunk. I haven’t ventured to cook these guys, but am really enjoying them raw. I knew about edible chickweed from a foraging hike led by an expert a few years ago but was recently reminded by Ava Chin’s New York Times column, a fun and fascinating blog about urban foraging:
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/author/ava-chin

There are so many types of safe-to-eat plants out there, basically free food: dandelion (coming soon), purslane, lamb’s lettuce, and other “weeds.” We have wild ginger somewhere in our woods. Ramps fall into the same category by the way. My grandfather and I used to do “down to the crick” to pluck them for a delicious feast.

Meanwhile in the pantry, we are sprouting radish seeds for quick consumption. They add a peppery punch to salads and cooked vegetables and are easy to grow at home. Tiny spring greens pack a punch to the palate, and now that the first stirrings of chives and lovage in my pot are peeking through, spring can’t be far behind.

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Many people are turned off to radishes because they associate them with the raw bite, however tempered by salt, butter and bread, or whatever the pairing. I personally like them cooked, sautéed in a tad of olive oil when young, or braised and glazed in the fall. When the leaves are young, they can be added to other greens for a variety of dishes, raw or cooked. Here, I turned the radish greens into a pesto, much as you would handle the more typical basil.

Since I had a beautiful bunch from our CSA farm (plus more growing in my own garden) I put a bunch-worth of trimmed greens in the food processor, added a tablespoon of pine nuts, a clove of garlic, a little salt, and a tablespoon or so of olive oil, buzzing it to blend. Then I sautéed sliced radishes in oil, salted them and tossed the whole thing together with some linguine. Perfect.

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For the February Can Jam event brilliantly organized by Tigress in a Jam,  I was inspired by a carrot salad that I make in the summer – carrot ribbons cured in lemon juice, spritzed with toasted sesame oil and tossed with toasted black sesame seeds. I call it a tiger lily salad because of its resemblance to the flower. Decorated with actual tiger lilies, it makes a stunning side dish on a buffet. Glam and refreshing.

The sub-title of this canning adventure could be called “This Way That Way.” It’s dangerous to leave me cooped up indoors with a bagful of anything that can be cooked. Once I figured out the base of this pickle (see below), I played with the seasonings and the cut of the vegetables, starting with the julienne suggested in the master recipe, moving to the standard round slice, experimenting with shredding, and finally landing on the winner – long ribbons of carrots.

I’m addicted to those slices of carrots and daikon radishes found on the salad buffet in Japanese restaurants. That would be a pickle I would pull out of the pantry and eat, especially since we try to avoid excess salt. When I make these pickles at home, I use rice vinegar and mirin, so even though the rice vinegar that I have in the cupboard is over 5% acidity, I checked to see if the FDA would approve of using it for water bath canning. Nope. Disappointed, I went to Plan B and started researching a suitable base for carrots and fennel, a different adventure.

And there, in the Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving by Judi Kingry and Lauren Devine, is a recipe they call Vietnamese Carrot and Daikon Pickle. Back to the original plan! They use white vinegar and plentiful white sugar, plus grated ginger and an optional piece of star anise. I tested the base with the vegetables and it was delicious. Since the authors added the star anise to the jar before processing, I couldn’t tell how it would alter the delicious pickles, so I made a test batch and canned one jar, setting it aside for a week. My advice is to go easy on the anise, but it was good.

Because I wanted to put up different cuts of carrots, I made an entire recipe of the base (dissolving the sugar in the water before adding vinegar) and divided it for the separate batches, all to keep the vinegar from dissipating with too much heat. From the basic recipe, I decreased the sugar a little but in retrospect, it was probably about right. I also increased the amount of ginger just a little. Both a matter of taste.

Because I didn’t want to add ginger to the carrot ribbons, I cooked them first, tossed them with sesame oil and toasted black sesame seeds and jarred them. I then added grated ginger to the base. Grating it allowed the flavor to come through quickly and strong. The jars with shredded carrot and daikon have ginger, sesame oil and sesame seeds. I can’t wait to spoon them over the top of a tuna steak or burger.

The julienned vegetables won the star anise, shining through the side of the jar like a jewel.  The slices were canned with only the base.  I used one of my favorite low-tech kitchen gadgets – child chopsticks – to place the vegetables in the jar. Children’s chopsticks are joined at one end and are like long tweezers. One of the daikon radishes, a recent purchase, was huge and a single slice was just about the diameter of the jar. The other radish and the carrots were local, including a few left over from the end-of-season at our CSA farm.

A final note. I was comfortable canning this range of jars — half-pint, 12-ounce and pint – together since the cooking time of ten minutes after the water resumes boiling is the same for all three. I wrote separate recipes for the carrots versus the carrots and daikon since, despite the same base, I didn’t want this to seem complicated. It wasn’t.

Tiger Lily Carrot Pickles with Sesame (2 pint jars)

6 large carrots, about 1 lb

1 ½ cups white vinegar

1 ½ cups water

2/3 – ¾ cup granulated white sugar

1 tsp toasted sesame oil

2 tsp black sesame seeds, lightly toasted in a dry pan

Prepare the jars for water bath canning. Prepare the carrots: slice them into thin vertical ribbons the whole length of the carrot using a straight-end vegetable peeler.

Prepare the pickling liquid. Combine the vinegar, water and sugar in a large shallow pot and bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar.

Add the carrots and cook for about 1 minute (until the water returns to a boil, being careful not to overcook). Strain the carrot ribbons, reserving the liquid, place in a bowl and add the sesame oil and seeds.

Place the carrots in hot jars and pour on the reserved pickling liquid. Remove air bubbles (put a dinner knife into the jar, being careful not to cut the ribbons) and adjust headspace, leaving ½ inch clear. Wipe the rims, add the flat lid (previously dunked in boiling water) and screw on the band. Process in boiling water for ten minutes (after the water comes to a boil), let sit for 5, then remove to the counter to cool.

Carrot and Daikon Pickles with Ginger and a Sesame Variation (for 2-3 half pints and 2-3 12 oz jars) Adapted from Kingry and Devine’s Complete Book of Home Preserving

2 lbs carrots, more or less

1 daikon radish, more or less

3 cups white vinegar

3 cups water

1/13-1/12 cup granulated white sugar

1 tbsp grated ginger

Star anise (optional)

Toasted sesame oil and black sesame seeds (optional, see variation below) *

Prepare the jars for water bath canning. Prepare the carrots and daikon: lightly peel the vegetables, julienne them into sticks 1/8 to ¼ inch x 1 ½ inches OR slice them into rounds 1/16-1/8 inch thick OR grate them lengthwise into thin strips. Combine the carrot and radish. If using more than one cut, set each aside to cook in batches.

Prepare the pickling liquid. Combine the vinegar, water, sugar and grated ginger in a large shallow pot and bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar.

Add the carrots and cook for about 1 minute until the water returns to a boil, being careful not to overcook.**

Place the carrots in hot jars and pour on the reserved pickling liquid, adding the optional star anise if using. Remove air bubbles and adjust headspace, leaving ½ inch clear. Wipe the rims, add the flat lid (previously dunked in boiling water) and screw on the band. Process in boiling water for ten minutes (after the water comes to a boil), let sit for 5, then remove to the counter to cool.

*Sesame option: After the carrots are cooked, drain them, reserving the pickling liquid, remove them to a bowl and sprinkle with sesame oil (approximately 1 tsp per pint) and sesame seeds (approximately 2 tsp per pint).

**Multiple batch option: If cooking more than one type of cut from the same batch of base, first dissolve the sugar in the water, add the vinegar and ginger and divide the base into the number of batches. This keeps the vinegar from losing its strength batch to batch.

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