Cooking is not just transformational, but also transporting.
Transporting in terms of place or time. Even just the smell of a particular food can take you back to a moment in the past à la Marcel Proust. When I crunch into a fresh radish, I take a journey to my husband's family home in Brittany, France.
Brittany is known as the land of crêpes, for sure, but it's an agricultural area and a generally cool climate, which is also known for many of the first spring vegetables to emerge from the thawing ground: onions, shallots, artichokes, mache and radishes.
The first time I went to stay with Franck's parents in the spring, there was a dish of fresh local radishes on the table with a pile of salt next to them. Iâd never seen this and happily crunched into a spicy, puckery, salty, long radish. But one was really enough for me. The strong, unmitigated flavor definitely packed a punch! I love the way that thinly-sliced radishes can give some needed punch and color to a salad, but to eat them on their own like that, I needed a schmear of another Breton delicacy: Sardine Butter.