By June beginning. The French radishes are ready. I pulled the first ones Saturday morning, brushed the soil off with my thumb, brought them inside and ate them at the kitchen counter with good butter and coarse salt. This is the first taste of the kitchen garden every year. It is not a ceremony. It is not a ritual. It is a man who planted seeds in May eating the result in June, which is the point of the whole enterprise. But it feels like something, every year. It feels like the year's first payment on a debt I didn't know I owed.
The strawberries are coming in too — Helen's strawberries, in the bed along the east fence that she has been maintaining for twenty-five years. The plants are old and productive and she tends them the way you tend something that has earned its place: carefully, respectfully, without the fussiness you give to things that are still proving themselves. The first strawberries of June, warm from the sun, eaten standing in the garden, are an argument that no food served in a restaurant in any city can refute.
I have been writing about the radishes for the blog. About simple foods eaten at their moment. About how the butter and salt is not a recipe but a context — the specific butter, the specific radish pulled from your specific garden, eaten at the counter before the day has made any demands of you. The post is short. Short is right. Hemingway taught me that the moment when less is more is the moment when you have already said too much.
David called Sunday. James had his first haircut from a barber — not Karen's kitchen scissors — and apparently took it very seriously. He is two and a half and already has opinions about his hair, which David finds alarming and which I find entirely reasonable. He is a Bergstrom. We have always had opinions about things that other people consider not worth having opinions about.
The radishes eaten at the counter with butter and salt are perfect as they are — that needs no improvement and no recipe. But there are always more radishes than one man can eat standing at a counter before the day begins, and the ones that come in after the first flush deserve their own moment. This quick pickle is how I give it to them: a little brine, a little time, and the crunch and sharpness of a June radish held just long enough to become something you can share. Helen approves. James, when he is old enough to have opinions about pickles, will almost certainly approve as well.
Easy Pickled Vegetables
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes + 1 hour chilling | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 cup thinly sliced French radishes (about 1 small bunch)
- 1 cup thinly sliced cucumber
- 1/2 cup thinly sliced red onion
- 1/2 cup matchstick-cut carrots
- 1 cup white wine vinegar
- 1 cup water
- 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
- 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
- 1/2 teaspoon black peppercorns
- 2 cloves garlic, lightly crushed
- 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
- Fresh dill sprigs, to taste
Instructions
- Prepare the vegetables. Slice radishes, cucumber, and red onion thin — a mandoline helps, but a sharp knife and patience work just as well. Pack the vegetables into a clean glass jar or shallow container along with the carrots and a few sprigs of fresh dill.
- Make the brine. Combine vinegar, water, sugar, and salt in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir until the sugar and salt are fully dissolved, about 3–4 minutes. Remove from heat and add the peppercorns, garlic, and red pepper flakes if using.
- Pour and cool. Pour the warm brine over the vegetables, making sure everything is submerged. Let the jar cool to room temperature, uncovered, for about 20 minutes.
- Chill. Cover the jar and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving. The radishes will turn a lovely pale pink and the brine will take on their color. They are ready when they taste sharp and clean and bright.
- Serve. Serve cold alongside grilled meats, on a cheese board, or simply straight from the jar. Pickles keep refrigerated for up to 2 weeks, though they rarely last that long.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 25 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 5g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg