Seasoned food shopper I may be, but my heart will always melt at the sight of a bunch of radishes, vermilion and white, their tuft of green leaves still present, looking like they were picked yesterday. I simply cannot resist. Those that aren't eaten on the way home are dunked into a bowl of ice cubes and water and left to crisp further still. They are usually brought to the table with very cold, unsalted butter and a tiny saucer of sea salt. After three or four I give up on the butter and just dunk the wet radishes in the salt flakes, just as I did with rhubarb and sugar when I was six.
A packet of radish seeds is something to put in a child's Christmas stocking. There is no vegetable more instant – it can be up and ready to pull from the ground in four weeks – and it can be eaten without much prep other than acursory wipe. I often eat them on the way from vegetable patch to kitchen.
A radish sandwich, made with thick-cut, soft-crumbed, flour-dusted bread, sweet butter from a new packet and a few sprigs of watercress is as good as any sandwich can be. I like them in a salad, of course, especially with soft-fleshed, buttery lettuce to balance their heat and crunch. And yet I rarely use them in any other way, forgetting how useful they are as bringers of mild, sweet heat to summer soups (particularly one of yogurt, chopped cucumber, spring onion, capers and dill) and chopped up in grain salads, such as tabbouleh and couscous.
I see no reason not to cook a radish, just as we cook mouli – its larger cousin. Their texture softens like any other vegetable, their heat mellows a little, and they lose their cheery colour, but they are pleasant with white fish or salmon. They are rather cool when sautéed, too. I toss them in a pan with butter and dill, continuously basting them with the herb butter as they cook. You need to leave a bit of bite in them, so no more than 7 or 8 minutes in the pan.
The white-tipped "French Breakfast" radish is my go-to variety. I am less tempted by the round, red clown noses that come, minus their plume of leaves, in cellophane bags. Still, they pack heat and crunch, and will cook to a mild and sweet end, too, just as might happen with a young turnip. Another early summer temptation of mine, and another story.
Baked sea bass with radishes and tarragon
You don't need to use sea bass for this dish. This method will work with most fish. The cut of the fish should be quite thin – fillets are probably most suitable – and the cooking time needs to be short and sweet, so that the radish retains a little of its crispness.
Serves 2
sea bass 1, medium sized
butter 75g, melted
tarragon 5g, finely chopped
radishes 6
red onion 1, small, very thinly sliced
Ask the fishmonger to clean and fillet the fish for you, but leave the skin on. Set the oven at 180C/gas mark 4. Melt the butter in a small pan then tip into the bowl of a food processor. Remove the leaves from the tarragon stems and drop them into the butter with a light seasoning of salt and black pepper. Process to a smooth, green dressing.
Cut two pieces of baking parchment large enough in which to loosely wrap the fillets of fish, one per parcel. Place a fillet on each and fold into a parcel, open at the top.
Slice the radishes in half, trimming their leaves as you go. Halve lengthways to give 12 pieces, then place them inside the parcels on top of the fish. Peel the onion and slice it very finely, then add to the fish. Divide the tarragon butter dressing between the two parcels then seal the edges by folding and securing with wooden pegs or a skewer.
Bake the paper parcels for about 20-25 minutes, then serve. Each parcel should be opened at the table, allowing the tarragon-scented steam to waft up.
Tomato, cucumber and radish soup
A sort of radish gazpacho. For a more substantial, light lunch, I like to make open-textured toast, from a ciabatta style loaf and place it in the bottom of the dishes before ladling over the soup. If it appears a bit thick, you can let it down with a little vegetable stock or more cucumber juice.
Serves 3
red pepper 1, large
garlic 3, large cloves
olive oil a little
cucumber 1, medium sized
radishes 100g
sherry vinegar 2 tbsp
To finish
radishes 3
Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6. Put the three radishes to finish in a bowl of iced water and set aside so that they crisp up.
Slice the red pepper in half and remove and discard any seeds or tough cores. Peel the garlic. Place the halves of pepper in a roasting tin, tuck in the garlic cloves, trickle with oil and bake for 30-40 minutes until the skin of the pepper is dark brown in colour. Peel off the skin, saving any juices from the tin then put the skinned pepper flesh and the garlic in the bowl of a food processor.
Peel the cucumber, cut into large chunks and add to the pepper. Clean the radishes then add them to the peppers with the sherry vinegar. Process the ingredients for several seconds until you have a rough, thick soup. I would avoid the temptation to process to a smooth purée. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt or vinegar as you wish.
Slice the chilled radishes in half lengthways. Ladle the soup into bowls, add the halved radishes and serve.
Email Nigel at nigel.slater@observer.co.uk. Follow Nigel on Twitter @NigelSlater
