Turnips & Radishes

Eggbeater is proud to announce its first Guest Author!   

    Hello. Please let me explain: I’m a farmers’ market enthusiast, or fanatic depending on how you read the pathology. I take every opportunity to see, smell and taste as much produce as I can, constantly talking to those remarkable individuals who take the time to cultivate it. In turn, I have developed a knowledge base. I mean, I’m not going to jump into the ring with Shuna Fish Lydon on the topic of citrus, but I’ll take on just about anyone else on a broad range of produce debates.

    This general love of food has led me to my first job in a professional kitchen, to a haven of culinary delights I’ve had the pleasure and privilege to cook in for nearly a year now. In my first days, I looked at the other cooks with sheer wonderment. In seconds, they performed with dexterity and balletic graces, tasks taking me long minutes of bodily contortion and machinations to accomplish. They became my demi-gods.

    A perennial pragmatist and pessimist, I knew my castle in the clouds would crumble. All mortals must fall from grace, every honeymoon must end. However, this reality check never came as a single confidence shattering moment. That is to say, the cookie never crumbled in one fell swoop. The situation was more like a roughly handled Pavlova, slowly cracking into a goo, that while still edible, is not nearly as pleasant to look at. The cooks I had made into heroes and heroines let me in on their secret; they don’t know everything and their skills are not boundless. I submit the following walk-in refrigerator conversations as an example.

C: Aren’t these radishes just so cute?
Me: Those are not radishes.  They're turnips.
C: No they aren’t. They’re radishes. A told me so. 
Me: Well that’s lovely that A would like to spread the myth of the radish-turnip, but this is most certainly a turnip.  (I can be a bit sassy)
C: (Looking for support) S, what are these?
S: Radishes.
Me: NO! They’re turnips.
C and S: Whatever.

The next day:

N: Are you using radishes tonight?
Me: Yes.
N: Here you go, I’ll leave them right here.
Me: Those aren’t radishes.  They’re turnips.
N: No you’re wrong.
Me: No you’re wrong.  Taste one and you’ll see.
N: Chomp.  They taste like turnips at the beginning and then radishes.
Me: That’s because they’re raw turnips.
N: Whatever.

    Frustrated, disillusioned, and questioning my own judgment, I finally appealed to the ultimate authority, my sous chef and purchaser of said vegetable, when she was back in the kitchen the next day.

Me: Hey R, what are these?

    And with a tone managing to at once convey you-sad-excuse-for-a-cook-and-a-human-being she said,

“Uh, turnips.  Why?”
Me: Just wondering… whatever.

------------------------------------

    For the privilege of writing in a public forum, I must remain anonymous. You can call me A. That said, I’d like to give a bit of background about myself…
    I grew up in the kitchen, tugging at my mother's apron strings. Many pictures of a gawky seven year-old wielding an eight-inch chef’s knife attest to this fact. (Inches should not trump years my friends!) It may have been this sense of intrepidness that gave me the courage- read insanity- to show up at the back door of a much admired Northern Californian restaurant and beg for a job without having a single second of formal culinary experience or education. Much to my surprise, they put me to work, and a probationary period of chicken butchering led to a steady kitchen position. It’s been a whirlwind to say the least!   
    While I'm finishing my undergraduate studies in Art History and Spanish, there is no doubt in my mind, the late nights of my future will be spent in the kitchen, and not in the stacks.

Comments

[robert]

this was a cute story. but what do we DO with all of those radishes and turnips that are showing up?

[shuna fish lydon]

Robert!

A is going to answer you as well but this is what I say--

I love the taste of those turnips roasted. I usually leave a little on the step end and cut it off later. Set the oven to 400, toss turnips in some good olive oil, sprinkle with kosher salt & roast until slightly caramelized & tender. I think this brings out their sweetness.

I can eat radishes any which way. in salads, as a salad & cooked. they're as versatile as you make them.

[robert]

awesome.

i had the treat of eating fresh, roasted broccoli for the first time last night.

basically, i want it no other way from now on. ever.

[A]

Hi Robert,
With winter turnips, I'm with Shuna. Roasted is hands-down my favorite. It softens their fibrous texture and makes them super sweet.
With lovely small spring turnips (often called Tokyo Turnips), I like to halve or quarter them, blanch them and sautee briefly in some butter and salt, often pairing them with other spring vegetables (say snap peas and carrots) in a spring medley.
With small radishes, I like to shave them very thinly with fennel and some whole leaves of herbs and dress them with a vinaigrette of any kind, for a piquant little salad.
Larger ones are excellent sliced 1/8 to 1/4 inch and sauteed in butter very slowly for a long while until tender and browning on the edges so their bite is balanced with a buttery sweetness. Finish with a chunky sea salt.
Of course, you could follow the French and eat them raw with some butter and sprinkled salt.

[robert]

what kind of herbs are you thinking for the salad? yum!!

[A]

Whole parsley leaves. Finely chopped chives. Even something as assertive as marjoram could be thrown into the mix. The greenness of parsley happens to be my favorite however.

[Garrett]

Cute story and nice post! Def. made me laugh, which is a nice escape here at work. :)

[Jonathan]

so, how do you tell the difference between
the radish and the turnip ?

Jonathan, I would say the clearest difference can be seen in the leaves. But I have forwarded this inquiry to the anonymous author... ~ Shuna

Well Jonathan,
The easiest way to tell most turnips and radishes apart is size and color. The three most common turnip varieties, scarlet, golden and purple shouldered, are all much larger that radishes. They're more the like the size of an average beet. Beyond that, the last two are colored like no radish I've ever seen, either golden or white with purple/lavender shoulders.

The confusion, the root of this story, usually comes from Tokyo turnips, small, round, all white turnips. In this case, the leaves distinguish them. Though radishes and turnips are in the same genus, they hail from different families. Turnip leaves more closely resemble mustard greens and other brasica than radishes. Hope that helps. ~ Anonymous Author