Vegetables

Radishes

There are two ways to look at radishes. The first is as one of life’s more pleasing incidentals, a healthy pre-meal nibble that goes on the table alongside a bowl of olives or crisps or tortilla chips or whatever it is that you present when friends come round to eat. The other is as proper vegetables. Both are valid.

Crisp, peppery little summer radishes are indeed the perfect way to kick-start a meal, bold enough to set the gastric juices flowing, yet barely denting the appetite. They look handsome too, like miniature pink torpedoes, tipped in some instances with a flash of white. These small radishes are just the tip of the iceberg, however. Winter radishes are massive in comparison, and fiery in flavour. Look out for them in markets and farm shops – usually black-skinned and dusty with soil, chunky of girth, tapering to a point, like a shadowy parsnip or carrot. They can be eaten raw, but are not for the faint-hearted. Cooking subdues the peppery power, turning them into a pleasant, juicy vegetable, with a taste reminiscent of turnip minus the brassica tang of sulphur.

Then there are the oriental radishes, typified by the incredibly lengthy, white-skinned mooli or daikon. If you have a yen for Japanese food, then this is the vegetable that is shredded into long crisp threads and piled alongside sushi and sashimi. It is believed to aid digestion, and is used widely throughout Japan. Though you are unlikely to find them in shops, other members of this group can be extraordinarily beautiful. They may not look anything special, but this is a beauty that is more than skin-deep. Cut them in half and you will reveal flashes and circles of stunning pink and purple in many different designs. Usually mild enough to use in salads, these are the radish supermodels. Like human supermodels they are rare and need to be nurtured and supported selflessly. In other words, you will probably have to grow your own, if you want a chance to discover the ultimate potential of the humble radish.

Practicalities

BUYING

Flabbiness is as big a no-no for a radish as it is for a supermodel. Career

ended just like that, new model steps in. The whole raison d’être for a radish is crispness and freshness and vitality. The peppery spice is the added bonus, and that too is spoiled by flabbiness, swiftly developing a nasty sulphurous undertow (radishes are related to cabbages and mustards). One good reason to buy small radishes in bunches is that the leaves give you an instant freshness reading. Do they look lively and bright? Or are they wilting and curling in on themselves? If the latter is the case, they are already past their zenith, heading down the road to flabby doldrums and perhaps there already. The big winter and oriental radishes are rarely sold with leaves, and have a far longer shelf life. They should still be firm, however, without signs of flab or bruising.

COOKING

Use up small radishes within a day or two of buying. To prepare, cut off the leaf (which can be cooked and eaten like spinach) and scrape away the papery flakes of skin around the stalk end. Rinse well and pop into a bowl of cold water. Keep in the fridge until ready to eat, then drain, dry and put out on the table. In France, they are accompanied by a pat of unsalted butter, and a little pot of coarse salt. Smeared with a dab of butter and dipped in salt they are extra good. Alternatively, mix crumbled flaky sea salt with crushed cumin and coriander and dip radishes into the mix to add extra savour.

Small radishes also have a place in the salad bowl. Halve them or slice them, before scattering over fresh summer salads of all sorts. They are particularly good in a potato salad, instead of finely chopped onion, where they add a hint of fire and colour. To cook as a vegetable, either sauté or stir-fry, or braise whole in barely enough water or stock to cover, adding a knob of butter.

The black-skinned winter radish is the one to use for more determined cooking. It needs to be peeled before cooking, then sliced thickly or cut into chunks. It can simply be simmered in boiling salted water, but is best, I find, added to meaty, chunky stews and braised gently in the savoury juices. Oriental radishes may need to be peeled (nibble a little bit first to see if the skin is palatable or not), then they can be sliced or shredded thinly for salads, both western and Asian style. They are also good stir-fried, mixed with other vegetables, or added to stews.

Sea bass with rosemary and radish stuffing

Finely chopped radishes add a gentle peppery touch to a piquant stuffing for roast sea bass.

Serves 4

1 sea bass, weighing around 1–1.5 kg (21/4-31/4lb), scaled and cleaned

olive oil

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

2 tablespoons finely chopped rosemary salt and pepper

Stuffing

8 summer radishes, trimmed and chopped

1 shallot, chopped

1 slice Parma ham or other prosciutto crudo, chopped

1 generous tablespoon olive oil

3 tablespoons slightly stale breadcrumbs

2 teaspoons rinsed capers, roughly chopped

1 tablespoon parsley

To serve

lemon wedges

Preheat the oven to 170°C/325°F/Gas 3.

To make the stuffing, fry the radishes, shallot and ham gently in the olive oil until tender. Mix with all the remaining ingredients, plus some salt and pepper. Brush the insides of the fish with a little olive oil, season lightly and fill with the stuffing. Lay in an oiled ovenproof dish.

Heat 4 tablespoons olive oil over a low heat and add the garlic. Cook until the garlic is lightly coloured. Draw off the heat and strain the oil over the fish. Season with salt and pepper and sprinkle with the chopped rosemary. Bake in the preheated oven for about half an hour until the fish is just cooked through. Check the fish once or twice as it cooks and if it is looking dry, baste with its own juices, or drizzle with a little extra oil.

Serve piping hot with lemon wedges and citrus radish confit (see below).

Citrus radish confit

If you have never tasted cooked summer radishes before, then there is no better recipe to start with than this. It is based on a recipe that I came across years ago in a French magazine. The confit is a sweet, sharp and slightly peppery relish, with a glorious pink colour. Try it with fish, with meat (lovely with lamb) and even with bread and cheese. Make double quantities if you have plenty of radishes to hand, and reheat the remainder the next day.

Serves 4

250g (9oz) summer radishes, trimmed

finely grated zest and juice of 1/2 lemon

finely grated zest and juice of 1/2 orange

2 tablespoons granulated or caster sugar

20g(3/4 oz) butter

salt and pepper

Slice the radishes into discs about 5 mm (1/4 in) thick. Put into a wide shallow pan with all the remaining ingredients and enough water to almost cover. Bring up to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer gently for about 30 minutes, stirring from time to time, until all the liquid has reduced down to a few tablespoons of rich buttery syrup, and the radishes are very tender.

Serve warm (it reheats beautifully).

Salsify and Scorzonera

Salsify and scorzonera are kissing cousins, often confused but virtually indistinguishable at heart. If you haven’t met either of them before, that’s hardly surprising. Although we have a long history of cultivating and growing them, they are no longer in vogue. I can’t remember the last time I spotted either in a greengrocery (they do still exist, you know), let alone a supermarket. To find them you will either have to grow them yourself, or head off in search of some extremely upmarket food emporium (I’m thinking Harrods, maybe) or an extremely classy greengrocer.

What you are looking for when you arrive are long, slender taproots – say around a foot long (that’s 33 cm) – almost invariably clad in a healthy dusting of earth. True salsify has off-white skin under the dirt, but most of the time what is sold as salsify is actually scorzonera, which has black skin. Since they taste much the same, I guess it doesn’t matter much whether the label is technically correct.

The taste of salsify/scorzonera is light and delicate, the texture smooth and tender. I adore them, but some people just find them bland. Each to his own. If you are a first timer with salsify, make a bit of a fuss about them and handle them with respect. Don’t expect fireworks, but do anticipate a genteel pleasure with a distinctly old-fashioned and rather soothing aura about it.

Practicalities

BUYING

The long roots of salsify (and from now on I’m using that to cover both salsify and scorzonera) should always be firm. Root droop and flabbiness means they are on their way out, fit only for the compost heap. Crying shame, really. Good, earthy, firm roots are the ones to bear home in triumph. Store them in a cool, dark, airy place (or the vegetable drawer of the fridge) for up to 4–5 days.

COOKING

To prepare them, begin by rinsing thoroughly. The skin, most likely black but possibly whitish, can be scrubbed off or peeled. Alternatively, you may prefer to blanch the salsify in their skins, then pull the skin off after cooking. My ma was a great one for the post-pan peeling session – it’s less wasteful and if you are going to reheat them later or use them in a composite dish, then it makes sense. Obviously if you are going to take them straight from the pan to the dinner table, then you will need to peel them before they are cooked. They oxidise fairly swiftly, so if you need to keep them hanging around after peeling, submerge them in cold water with the juice of 1/2 lemon.

In most instances, salsify are cut into convenient lengths and boiled or steamed before use. Keep an eye on them and drain as soon as they are tender and before they overcook to a soggy mush. Say 7–8 minutes in simmering water, though that will vary with thickness.

Serve them hot from the pan, with a knob of butter melting over them and perhaps a stippling of finely chopped parsley. Or, if you prefer, reheat them by frying in butter until lightly patched with brown.

PARTNERS

One of my childhood favourites was the chicken and salsify pie my mother made once in a while (substitute lightly cooked salsify for the Jerusalem artichokes in the pie on page 43), and indeed salsify works very well with chicken. And with cream. And with butter. And with anything gentle and soothing. It is not a vegetable that takes gleefully to big flavourings such as chilli, or garlic, or tomato, or anchovies and so on. They drown out the taste of the salsify itself.

Salsify can be excellent in salads, dressed while still warm with a classic vinaigrette, then married with milder green salad leaves (little gem, cos, mâche, spinach and the yellow heart of a frisée lettuce), beans (green or cannellini type), leeks, prawns or chicken or eggs.

If you have only a smallish amount of salsify, then one of the best ways of showing it off is to transform it into fritters to serve as a first course. Dip lengths of lightly cooked salsify into a light fritter batter or tempura batter, and deep–fry until crisp and golden brown. Serve instantly, with wedges of lemon.

Phil Vickery’s oil-braised salsify

This is how the chef Phil Vickery likes to cook salsify, braised gently to a tender richness in olive oil, then fried until the exterior is browned just before serving. It’s a distinctly restaurant technique (most of the cooking achieved in advance, requiring only a couple of minutes to finish), but one that adapts well to a home kitchen, especially when you are cooking for a dinner party and want to minimise last-minute kitchen shenanigans.

When Phil and I were talking vegetables, he also mentioned that this method works brilliantly with swede.

salsify

olive oil to cover

salt

Preheat the oven to 140°C/275°F/Gas 1. Scrub and peel the salsify. Cut into 10cm (4in) lengths. Place in an ovenproof dish that will take them in a close-fitting single layer – don’t use a dish that is way too big, or you’ll have to use way more oil.

Pour over enough oil to just cover the salsify. Slide into the oven and leave to braise gently for around 1 hour until tender. Leave to cool in the oil.

Just before serving, heat up a frying pan. Take the salsify out of the oil, drain well and fry briskly until browned here and there. Season with salt and serve immediately.

Salsify and flageolet salad

Salsify makes a fine salad all on its own, but I prefer it matched with other ingredients. Nothing too bold and intense, you understand. Pale green flageolets (if you use dried ones, soak 200g/7oz overnight, then simmer in unsalted water until tender; drain and dress while still hot), a few extra slender strips of grilled pepper, the sweet, tender leaves of a little gem lettuce. That’s much more like it. Try adding the thinnest slivers of Moroccan preserved lemon – delicatessens and some supermarkets sell them, but avoid the lemons preserved with chilli, which are too feisty for this. You will need just half of a normal-sized lemon, or an entire one if they are miniature lemons.