Pépere’s Radishes

My great-grandfather Narcisse was a devoted gardener who grew all manner of vegetables. A hard-working and practical man, he made coldframes from old storm windows and trellises from scrap lumber. His ancient shed, which smelled of dusty old wood and oil and vaguely of apples, was filled with weathered rakes and hoes and a stash of ancient, mossy pots. It was a place of mystery for me as a child. I was sure rabbits lived there. Perhaps they did.

Early on mid-summer mornings, Pépere would pick handfuls of radishes for his grand-daughters to eat with their toast.

Today, I almost always buy radishes at the farm market. I take simple pleasure cleaning and slicing them into thin disks. And always, I think of Pépere.

Sauté new radishes with a bit of pepper and add coarse sea salt when they are ready to eat. Pair with buttered toast.