Some foods are charismatic by virtue of their story. The Poulet Bleu’s development in North America is as exciting as its blue feet, and while Jimmy Nardello peppers look entirely commonplace, their name, and the history it alludes to, give them a leg up on other, similar foods. Still others wear their oddities in the open in odd shapes and colors, such as the Black Spanish Radishes from Fiddler’s Green Farm that we picked up at the Farmers’ Market.
Black radishes have a dark black skin and resemble beets in shape and size, being much larger than the red radishes we typically eat. Our radish monger advised us to peel and roast them as we would potatoes. Being a household that often roasts root vegetables in the winter, it seemed like we could easily fashion a recipe around these dark specimens.
We began by peeling the black skin to reveal the pale white flesh. The contrast between the outer and inner radish was rather impressive and surprising.

I sliced the radishes into bite sized pieces and took the opportunity to taste a bit. Raw, the radish was extremely bitter and astringent. Jen gave me a look that questioned my resolve to continue with the dish, but I assured her I thought that roasting would mellow the flavors and arrive at a mild but interesting vegetable dish. We combined them with a chopped onion, seasoned them with salt and thyme, then drizzled on some olive oil and white wine and placed them in the oven to cook.

The radishes took about an hour to cook through, becoming slightly translucent and a little brown around the edges. We plated them alongside a tasty piece of swordfish and headed to the table to enjoy the meal.

Unfortunately, I can’t say that the roasting did enough to mellow the bitterness. I made it about halfway through my serving, Jen less than that, before we both decided to drop the brave faces and admit defeat. I had to concede this round to the radishes, but I’ve read that covering them with salt then squeezing the juice out can reduce the bitterness. I’ll have to try that in the future. In the meantime, at least the swordfish was good.


































52 Foods Week Forty Two: Tomato
With the school year in full swing and a busy month of birthdays, out of town guests and costume parties, it’s sometimes hard to carve out time to cook. Fortunately, this lack of time coincided with the end of tomato season, a confluence that naturally led to cooking a big batch of tomato sauce that we could freeze for nights when boiling pasta water is about all the cooking energy we can muster.
Tomato sauce was at least a weekly staple in our home when I was young, and it was also one of the first things I learned to cook after going to college. My recipe, which has served me well for over a decade, uses tomatoes, an onion, a few garlic cloves, salt, red wine and a whole lot of (ideally fresh) rosemary.
We ordered a load of roma tomatoes from Gauchito Hills Produce, a CSA started by a couple of our friends. Ripe roma tomatoes are ideal for tomato sauce, having a great balance of flesh and juice. The end of the season romas were soft and super ripe. I couldn’t wait to get them peeled and into a large pot.
I washed the tomatoes then cut an X on the bottom end of each one and placed them in a pot of boiling water to loosen the skin.
After each tomato had soaked for five or ten minutes, I pulled them out and let them cool to where I could remove the skin. I sliced the tops off them as well, and soon had a large bowlful of whole, peeled tomatoes.
I chopped an onion and peeled and smashed five or six garlic cloves then tossed those in a large pot with some olive oil to sauté. On top of this, I added three sprigs of fresh rosemary.
After the onions were translucent, I poured in the bowl of tomatoes, followed by red wine and some salt, then covered them to simmer over low heat for three hours.
I mostly left the tomatoes untouched while they cooked, only taking a minute to break them up midway through. After three hours they had caramelized a bit, and darkened to a familiar tomato sauce hue. I removed them from heat and let the sauce cool.
When it came time to eat our first tomato sauce meal, I pulled the full batch of sauce from the fridge and puréed it all in the food processor. After reserving a portion to heat for dinner, I poured the rest of the sauce into a couple jars to freeze.
We enjoyed the first round of tomato sauce over al dente spaghetti, with some freshly ground pepper and freshly grated parmigiano reggiano.
The photos are here.