In early January, the seed catalogs begin to arrive en masse. They appear unrequested as if the word has gotten out–the word that one of my great pleasures is to pore over these catalogs; dreaming, scheming, and planning. But there is also agony involved. The kind that comes from having to choose among a dizzying array of varieties within the constraint of limited time and space.
Each year, I attempt to grow something entirely new. Last year, it was garbanzo beans and artichokes–both failed miserably. But the Italian Annelino beans, red shiso and green Envy zinnias were magnificent. This year, I am casting my hopes on asparagus peas (aka Tetragonolobus, or winged bean), black kale, hops, and if all goes as planned–a brand new rose garden!
Of course, there are the standards–the vegetables and flowers that I can't do without–but which ones to choose? Do I stick with the tried and true? Go with the nostalgic heirlooms? Or try one of the new and improved?
Some things are no-brainers.
Radishes are the most generous of plants; they give so much more than they get. The seeds readily germinate within 2-5 days, even in tepid soil, freeing up premium space on the warming mat. Within a week, the thinned sprouts liven up salads and sandwiches. The rest are left to grow to maturity and are harvestable within a month. All this can even take place indoors if the weather doesn't comply and they are given plenty of light and kept moderately moist.
In the garden, radishes can be planted in the smallest of spaces or interplanted between slow-maturing crops like tomatoes, cucumbers, squash and peppers. They are natural cultivators, as are all root vegetables. When they are harvested, they leave a hole in the soil, allowing for aeration.
Radishes also make excellent companion plants because they contain glucosinolate–an organic compound that produces the sharp, pungent flavor of mustard, horseradish, and many members of the cabbage (Brassicaceae) family. Glucosinolate is a natural pesticide that keep the radishes, as well as their neighbors, free of most harmful pests.
Doesn't such a humble and giving plant deserve a little love?
To show my appreciation, I've fashioned these tiny, dime-sized orbs a little pot from luxurious cultured butter and sprinkled them with salty, aromatic douchi. Although this cue was taken from the French, who love their radishes with butter and salt, it's only logical…after all, what vegetable is not loved by a little butter and salt?
Playing with Fire and Water 