When I planted zucchini and cucumbers, I had a small space left between the three hills. Looking at the back of my radish seeds, I noticed that they would come to maturity very quickly. Hopefully, they would be ready before the zucchini devoured their sunlight. I surmised correctly. What I didn't expect was for the zucchini to grow over the 36" that was recommended for them...pushing dinner plate sized leaves two feet onto the concrete patio
next to the garden.
The radishes quickly produced two full bunches, part of one is still lingering in my fridge. I think the best answer is to make another round of this slaw. Each time I've made this, the slightly spicy, mild sweetness and bright balsamic have been half-eaten before they could make it to the table. In addition, it's been an excellent motivator for me to improve the rudiments of my knife skills.
If you're like me, you sometimes just want to figure out what you're going to have, and find the shortest route there. Especially, if (like me) you are the dishwasher. It doesn't seem to matter
so much if dinner has a perfectly julienne-d vegetable medley. Maybe these knife things are something we have to learn, but it is more time to spend. Chopping. Slowly. Positioning and re-positioning. Believe me, I hear you. You might think, as I did, that inconsistency has some value. While I can't entirely argue with that, I will say this.
Like an artist, we sometimes develop curious habits that define our style. For example, some of us have a hard time seeing how objects relate to each other in space---it's fine when we're looking at them, or if we want to reach for them. But when we go to draw or paint them, they float airily or space warps around them. If we can learn
how and
why, we can float when and where we choose. If we never learn how to choose, we're trapped forever...limited by our inconsistency.
Learning knife skills opens the door to more dishes, faster, more consistency, and better presentation. Even I can't get away with fuggalicious all the time. It is also much easier and less stressful to chop the needed ingredients, making you feel much more in control of your cooking process.
I can break this down into several important elements. Firstly, choose a weapon suited to your task. Please, for the love of all that is good, stop chopping with a paring knife! Find an inexpensive 7 inch santoku, which is much less intimidating than a chef's knife. Grasp it properly in your dominant hand. Always protect your fingers on the opposite hand by keeping your fingertips curled under. I also find it quite helpful to never let the tip of the knife leave the cutting board. Finally, I am not a doctor, and these statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. I am more than happy to answer questions, too. I have a feeling that will be something to talk about more in the near future.
Ingredients, to your taste (of course!)
1 medium size bunch of radishes, the fresher the better
1-2 medium sized carrots
1 teaspoon of shallot, finely diced
1/2 teaspoon of garlic
For the dressing:
mayo
salt
blackpepper
balsamic vinegar
In short, I sliced these radishes long-ways first, so that I could stack up the thin layers to cut again. I grated carrot directly into the bowl. Precise measurements aren't necessary here, but I estimate about a quarter of a cup. I also finely diced about a teaspoon of shallot and half as much fresh garlic. Be cautious with your garlic. In a cold dish like this, you can always add more, but you can't take it out. If you like, make the dressing in a small bowl to your taste. You don't need much here---I think I used about three tablespoons' worth. Mix mayo, a generous poinch of sea salt, a few turns of freshly ground black pepper, and a splash of balsamic. In my speak, splash means that you've put your finger over the top of the bottle so that you can control the flow. You allow your desired amount, which for me is a few shake's worth. Once you've mixed everything together, feel free to adjust to your taste. Devour.
