FROM PATCH TO PLATE: MATTHEW

FROM PATCH TO PLATE Matthew Fort

In praise of the radish – a small but refreshingly fiery jewel in the spring vegetable patch that packs a punch on the plate

Ah, that first, full balmy note of spring. A light breath of warm wind. Violets in the hedgerows. Blossom on the pear tree. Green shoots shooting up. A quickening of the pulse. A sudden surge of cheery optimism. ‘Whan that Aprill with his showers soote the droghte of March hath perced to the roote’ as the genial Geoffrey Chaucer put it back in fourteenth century, and I’m not sure much has changed since.

Of course, this is a busy time in the vegetable patch. I begin to patrol it with increasing energy and anxiety. The earth should be warming up for the long run through spring to summer.

I have taken the plunge with my chitted potatoes (Sharp’s Express; Ratte). They’re in the earth already. Courgettes (Romanesco; Trombetta d’Albenga) and cucumbers (Iznik; Petit Vert de Paris), and tomatoes (I’ll name them on a later column) are all nestling in their pots indoors waiting for the right moment to be transplanted. There are plenty of gardeners who sow their early peas and broad beans in the autumn, let them produce some shoots and then leave them in the ground during the winter months so they can flourish as the ground warms up and produce an early crop. I’m not one of them. So I’m still debating if I dare to sow these inestimable legumes outdoors just yet. There is always a risk of a late, unseasonal frost that may nip tender shoots in the bud. You just never know. This gardening business is a matter of subtle judgement.

I am delighted to report that sorrel and rhubarb, those early harbingers of the harvests to come, are already showing vigorous growth, but, if I’m honest, it is the cheery radish that I look to for reassurance and renewal. Rhubarb and sorrel are perennials. They come back in the same way and the same place each year, but radishes, well, they are the first seeds I sow, and the appearance of their frilly green leaves reassures me that other vegetables are on their way.

Radishes are jolly vegetables in every way – those plump bodies, rouged around the edges like the chubby cheeks of a cheery child, that refreshing crunch as you bite down, that distinctive, lively peppery heat – and they are much more versatile than you might think. You can serve them with just salt or neatly tipped with salted butter. You can slice them lengthways and strew them over salads or, if you can pick enough, use them to make a salad all on their own. You can quarter them to add to soups and stews. You can pickle them to eat in deep mid-winter when you want to be reminded of the joys of spring.

I was reminded of the radish’s many virtues the other day when an old friend, near neighbour, and constant competitor in the veg growing stakes, and his wife came for supper. I’d invited them, simply so I could impress them with my early harvest. Hah! I should’ve known better. The fellow arrived with his own cluster of radishes, all washed and neatly tied in a bunch with string. His were larger than mine, redder than mine, prizewinners every one, but – and I almost hate to write this – they lacked oomph. Fine on the eye, with a most agreeable crunch, but the point of a radish is the peppery zip, isn’t it? Without the pepper crunch, they might just as well be nature’s own polystyrene. Mine, a mixture of mixtures, might not have had the visual appeal of his, but they certainly had the edge when it came to heat and flavour. I don’t care about visual perfection. I want flavour to savour.

Of course, I was far too polite than to make this point to my friend. I’ll take my revenge when it comes to carrots later in the year. He’s no good at carrots.

About Matthew An award-winning food writer and critic, Matthew was Food & Drink Editor of The Guardian for 15 years and a judge on BBC TV’s Great British Menu. He is also the author of four books on food and travel.

BEEF SKIRT WITH RADISH SALAD

Skirt is that muscle of the cow that runs over the ribs. Actually, there are two of them; one inside the ribs and one outside. They do a lot of work. Consequently they need a bit of chewing, but are very rewarding to the tastebuds. You can tenderise them by whacking them with tenderising mallet or a rolling pin, or through marinading them. I happily chew. Serves 4

INGREDIENTS (STEAK)

800g beef skirt Olive oil Salt and pepper

METHOD

• The steak should be at room temperature. Heat a griddle pan until really, really hot. Of course, use a grill if you do not have a griddle pan at hand. • Wipe a little oil over the steak and bang it on the griddle (or under the grill). Cook for 2–3 minutes.

Turn. Cook for 2–3 minutes. • Put it into a warm oven and let it relax and unwind for 10 minutes or so. It should be nicely brown and marked where it has rested on the ridges of the griddle, and pink when you cut into it.

INGREDIENTS (SALAD)

30 peppery radishes 1 horseradish root 1 bunch parsley 1 tbsp verjuice (or white wine vinegar) Juice of ½ lemon Pinch of sugar 2 dsp vegetable oil 2 dsp olive oil Salt and pepper

METHOD

• Cut the radishes into small matchsticks. Put in a bowl. Chop the parsley finely and mix in with the radish matchsticks. Season with salt and pepper. • Mix the verjuice, lemon juice and sugar in a bowl and whisk until the sugar has dissolved. • Whisk in the oils and pour over the radishes.

Mix thoroughly using hands. • Share out salad between four plates and grate a good dusting of horseradish root over each. ■