A Winter Radish Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, on a very recent Friday evening, a certain Famiglia Dilettare found themselves hungry and cold, searching for the perfect vegetable side dish to an artfully doctored jar of pasta sauce and a box of rigatoni. Now Mama Dilettare, having bartered the family's last cow for a local winter CSA share, opened the refrigerator with a heavy heart, knowing that she would find only a motley collection of root vegetables, including half-a-dozen white winter radishes (which gave her a bit of a fright). The two bambini languished at her feet, weak with hunger. Mama briefly considered the kind babysitting offer from the woman who lived in the lovely gingerbread house in the forest behind the back forty, but thought the better of it. Gingerbread would surely spoil supper for her poor dears.

As the pasta sauce bubbled on the stove, Mama's eyes fell upon a not-yet withered clementine, and like a magic bean, a seed was planted in her mind. As the bambini poked at the ashes in the cold fireplace (the stove was much more efficient with fuel), Mama sliced, diced and spun those humble radishes into culinary gold. As she set the table, her woodsman husband tromped in, spreading cold air and snow over the rushes. He had a sad tale of their neighbor Bianca, and a fight with her father's latest squeeze that left Bianca homeless (it appears the hubby had to help the poor lass out of a bit of a bind). Although Mama felt for the poor girl, her own children were hungry, and she couldn't wait to share the radish-y revelation with her husband.

The children eyed their radish slices with suspicion, but quickly left their fears behind after tentative first bites. Heartily, the woodsman tucked into his portion, then boomed his approval in a manly voice. Mama simpered ... it was nothing, really. After all, couldn't anyone turn a winter radish into gold?

That evening, the children settled into their beds, with visions of obscure root vegetables dancing in their heads.
Finis

And here is the recipe, for those mamas (and dads) stuck with mild winter radishes, hungry kids, and only a few minutes to get dinner on the table.

Mama's White Radish Salad

3 medium white winter radishes
1 orange (or clementine, if you must)
1/3 c olive oil
1 lemon
1t dried or 1T fresh mint (thyme, marjoram, parsley or basil would also work)
salt and pepper to taste

Wash, halve, and thinly slice the winter radishes. Place in a medium to large bowl. Peel and section (if you're fussy) the orange. Slice the sections into small chunks. Combine with radish slices.

In a separate dish, whisk together olive oil, the juice of the lemon, and the dried or fresh herbs. Season with a dash or salt and a few grinds of pepper. Combine with radish mixture, and serve.

Buon Appetito.

Harvest

The pears on our lone tree are starting to ripen. The tree suffered last winter, and I really didn't expect anything this year. I have been surprised. It isn't the overwhelming harvest of the past several years, but it is more than enough for our family. Miles, Teija and I ventured out yesterday to see if it is time to pick.Pears ripen off the tree, so I judge by the willingness of small children to gnaw away at the still slightly hard fruit.

I think the pears are ready.

Iron Chef, Preschool Snack Edition

I may be dating myself here, but we used to be big fans of the Food Network's Iron Chef. It's been about five years since we subscribed to a satellite television service, so I don't know if it's still being aired. It was great fun, though, and last week The Hubby had a chance to relive the excitement at home, from the comfort of our couch.

I was out of the house for the evening with a work meeting, a not-uncommon experience during the week at Casa Dilettare. Steve was glued to the couch holding a sleeping baby, and no one wants to wake the sleeping baby. Apparently The Young Man came into the room and announced that he was feeling a mite peckish.

Since Steve could neither move off the couch nor use either of his arms, he told Miles that he was free to help himself to a snack (within reason). Miles then took himself into the adjacent kitchen with a jaunty step, and proceeded to thoughtfully rifle the refrigerator. From his position in the living room, Steve was unable to observe the specifics of the snack-getting, and as he told me later, " There was a lot of messing about, pausing, opening the 'fridge, closing the 'fridge, and rummaging through the utensil drawer. It was all very mysterious."

And what, pray-tell, was the outcome of our son's first foray into following his own culinary muse? Cream-cheese and tomato paste on multi-grain bread. Sweet child, he even saved me a corner, sealed in a little plastic snack baggy.

To tell the truth, it wasn't half-bad. However, I'm not sure how the Chairman would have felt about the presentation.

Where *Is* My Crockpot?

All I can say is, "Wow!"
(Does anyone else own Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse? No? Ah, well ... it's a great read).

A Year of CrockPotting

I am simply floored. Using my crockpot is akin to crochet for me ... I have the best of intentions, but no real follow-through. Oddly enough, the very thought of either also made my morning sickness while pregnant with Miss T much worse.

I found this link via Barren Mare, and simply had to share.

Double Dutch Baby

I'm not really one for most breakfast foods. But the following recipe, adapted freely from The Joy of Cooking, has been in heavy rotation at our house for the last two weeks. Inspired by our fresh eggs and a bag of frozen organic Maine blueberries, my version of Dutch Baby is pretty loose and can be altered at will.

Dutch Baby, or "Oven Pancake"
Serves two adults and one child in our house

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Place a standard 9" (or so) cast iron pan in the oven to preheat.

Measure 1/2 cup milk into a quart liquid measuring cup. Add 2 eggs, a dash of vanilla, and beat until well-mixed. Add 1/2 cup flour and about 3 T sugar (this is less than the Joy recipe, you can add more if you have a sweet tooth), and a pinch of salt. Beat with a whisk or fork until smooth.

Add 4 T unsalted butter to your pre-heated pan in the oven. Watch to make sure the butter doesn't burn. When butter is melted, remove from oven and pour in egg/flour/milk/sugar mixture. Sprinkle with about 3 T frozen blueberries. Add a light dusting of nutmeg and cinnamon, if desired. Return the pan to the hot (425) oven, and bake 12-15 minutes, until puffy and golden. Serve immediately.

Now, if you plan correctly, you only have to dirty a few dishes to prepare this (I never measure the blueberries, for example), and it is a great way to use eggs (for those of us who always have a few on hand). Possible variations include substituting finely diced apple for the blueberries (omit the nutmeg, add ground cloves?), and splitting the flour with half whole wheat and half white. The result is a lovely, sophisticated yet simple breakfast that can be cranked out in under 20 minutes. It has a wonderful crepe-like eggy texture, without an eggy flavor, and a buttery, crisp bottom crust. Real food for both parents and children.

Oh, and the recipe doubles easily. Just use a pyrex casserole pan (9"x 12").

Sick child

The local school plague has been visiting our house, nixing any potential blogging time. Still, life goes on. The pooh chair has not been mercifully vaporized; I find I love my new calendar so much I have a hard time writing in it (not so helpful, that reluctance); and I am still not organized. But I have a lovely family, enjoyed Super Tuesday immensely, and had good soup for lunch. There is hope yet.

The soup was Schri, by the way, from the Moosewood Daily Special cookbook. Fabulous.