Clay Spoon

watermelon radishes

It’s rough trying to eat a lot of salad in the winter. There’s nothing more nutritious and light than a bowl full of baby spinach and arugula, but it can be an unsatisfying option when you crave steaming mashed potatoes. During the winter I try with all of my cooking might to keep greens in my diet, my fallback being a comforting vegetable soup or a side of sautéed kale. And to be honest, salad can get a little monotonous sometimes.

This was not the case with the autumn salad that was ceremoniously placed before me while dining at Toqueville last week. I was lucky enough to be dining with Hagan, The Wandering Foodie, which meant lots of special treatment. Hagan’s current project, 93 Plates, is any food blogger’s idea of heaven. He has asked 93 restaurants in New York to sponsor a meal for himself and a foodie guest or two, squeezing in 3 meals a day for 31 days straight. It’s a great way to build connections within the food blogging cyberspace, while wandering from one great meal to the next.

a food blogger at work

The service at Toqueville was a perfect reflection of the care that was lavished upon the creation of our meal in the kitchen. The waiters performed a well-choreographed dance, revealing the next course just as we began to crave another savory bite. It is the creamy textures that stand out most in my memory: luscious confit of veal tongue, briny and sweet sea urchin that gradually dissolved into a tangle of angel hair, and foie gras nestled amongst a tower of caramelized vegetables and sea scallops. The sommelier continuously materialized, seemingly from thin air, to present yet another pairing.

But then again, this was a special meal, and not the type of treatment that I would normally expect. The experience gets right to the heart of a thorny issue in the food blogging realm, concerning the credibility, as well as sustainability, of gratis meals for bloggers. Wordpress even publishes a code of ethics for food bloggers, building upon a more detailed set of guidelines put forth by the Association of Food Journalists. The guidelines instruct bloggers to visit a restaurant at least twice, maintain as much anonymity as possible, and “pay in full for all meals and services.” As a young, eager eater with a slim budget, an occasional dinner on the house at a lovely establishment is hardly something that I am quick to pass up. I can at least chalk it up to experience, while holding back from any sort of formal review. If the meal is noteworthy, that’s the time to plan another visit, with a pair of shades and a large hat to conceal my now infamous visage. Which is why it will be a pleasure to return to Toqueville for a celebratory evening in the future, next time with a more objective approach (and several less glasses of fantastic wine to color my opinion).

Now, back to the salad. The appetizer course was brought to Hagan and I as his and her dishes. A teetering pile of little fried vegetable strips ontop of microgreens for her, confit of veal tongue for him. I love salad, a fact that I was quick to point out in praise of my dish, and that my companion was quick to tease me about. I should have expected that. Why is it that men are so keen to make fun of women who enjoy a bowl of simple greens? I cannot think of anything more nutritious and beautiful. Perhaps they imagine a large dish of mildly wilted iceberg lettuce with pre-frozen shredded carrots on top, dolled up with ranch dressing flavored by high fructose corn syrup. I wouldn’t want to eat that either.

My dish was described on the menu as a “salad of greenmarket autumn vegetables.” There was nothing dreadful about this salad, but it was a point of contention between Hagan and I, and therefore entertaining to discuss. My stance is this: while there is nothing wrong with an array of vegetable chips and a sweet vinaigrette, they don’t belong on a salad meant to showcase market produce. The delicate tangle of microgreens, those little green specks poking out from under the lotus chip, were overwhelmed by a heavy dose of pomegranate drizzle and an assortment of fried roots. Too many ingredients led to some conflicting flavors. There was a slender little slice of watermelon radish, however, that caught my eye…

Alice Waters includes some descriptive words on the topic of salads in her book, The Art of Simple Food. She explains that “it’s the immediacy that makes a salad so compelling and seductive, so use ingredients that are fresh and radiant and in season…making a garden lettuce salad – washing beautiful fresh-picked lettuces and tossing them together with a scattering of herbs and a vinaigrette – is as much of a joy as eating one. I love the colorful variety of lettuces, bitter and sweet; the flavor and complexity of herbs such as chervil and chives; and the brightness of a simple vinaigrette made with wine vinegar, olive oil, and a whisper of garlic, which highlights the lettuces and herbs without overwhelming them.” I took Alice’s advice and carefully picked out a set of complementary sweet and bitter greens, and then let my eyes lead me to a few colorful vegetables. I was pleased to stumble upon a bin of those same watermelon radishes (destiny? my own personal radish spirit, perhaps?). From there it was just a matter of composing a vinaigrette to match.

a few watermelon radish varieties

for The Radish Spirit Salad

Choose a combination of sweet and bitter greens; I used a handful of sunflower shoots and a microgreens mix from the Greenmarket. Microgreens can be incredibly flavorful: this particular batch was peppery, pungent, and tender.

sunflower sprouts

microgreen mix

Wash the greens carefully by submerging them in a bowl of cold water, and then wrapping in a paper towel to dry. The greens should be totally dry before they are dressed, so as not to dilute the vinaigrette. The lettuces can be stored in the fridge for a few hours in the paper towel. While the lettuces dry, prepare the other elements. I sliced  radish into paper thin layers on a mandoline; watermelon radish has a peppery bite, and a refreshing, clean aftertaste. I would have loved a bit of Ricota Salata, or any sharp cheese, to add one more dimension to the salad, but I was still getting over my earlier cheese OD. Next time.

One of my favorite dressings to make is a warm Meyer lemon vinaigrette. This dressing is intended to go with hamachi tartar, but I find that the hint of sweetness pairs just as well with microgreens. Zest a Meyer lemon, and reserve the zest. Juice the lemon into a bowl, about half a cup’s worth of juice, then whisk in a tablespoon of light honey. Agave could also work well. Slowly add in a half-cup of a mild, delicate olive oil, and season with ½ teaspoon of salt and a few grinds of pepper. Gently warm the mixture in a small pan on the stovetop to fully incorporate the honey. Dip few greens into the dressing to taste, then add honey and seasoning as needed.

To assemble, slice one or two watermelon radishes, or any other exciting vegetable that’s in season. Slice as thinly as possible, or use a mandoline. Human fingers don’t add much flavor-wise, so if a mandoline is the tool of choice proceed carefully. Lightly dress the radishes separately, and allow them to sit in the vinaigrette for a few minutes.

thinly sliced watermelon radish

Season the greens with a bit of salt and pepper, then gently toss with a few tablespoons of dressing, adding more as needed. Mix in the vegetables and garnish with a few herbs, or thin slices of cheese. Make sure that the radish spirit is visible.

simple salad, complex flavors