I have discovered a new secret ingredient, and here I go telling you all about it. I never could keep a secret.

            I first experimented with daikon when I was planning an oriental-themed dinner party. I wanted to try some different vegetables in a marinated salad that I was serving. I was also trying kohlrabi for my first time. I didn’t know much about daikon and in fact, I had trouble picking it out at the Chinese grocery market where I was shopping. I selected what I thought must be a daikon, although I couldn’t read the oriental sign. Among a myriad of tubers and bulbs that all looked inedible, there was one other root that looked suspiciously similar. I went to the elderly woman at the checkout counter, where I had hoped for some help, but she started talking to me wildly in Chinese. “Kashownry, kashownry!” I finally realized that she was trying to tell me that she didn’t take debit cards. At this point I knew that I didn’t stand a chance of getting her to tell me if the root I was holding was indeed daikon. Lucky for me, I actually was carrying cash on that particular Saturday, and I left with what I hoped wasn’t a parsnip.

            Once home, I ate a small slice of the root and knew immediately that I had made the right choice. Since that time I have gone to my regular grocery store where the signs are in English, and have made a study of the daikon and parsnip. Holding them side-by-side, one can easily see that while the parsnip looks like an anaemic carrot, the daikon is whiter, smoother and shinier.

            The daikon is also known as a Japanese or Oriental radish and is in the same family as are the cabbage, horseradish, turnip and mustard. It is not surprising that all of these vegetables have a similar peppery flavour. The degree of heat in the radishes varies, with the more familiar red globe radish the mildest, the daikon in the middle and the black radish being the hottest. The substance that gives the strong mustard flavour is concentrated in the skin and so, while you would rarely have to peel a red radish, some may feel the need to peel the daikon and you would definitely have to peel the black.

            I didn’t peel my daikon; I didn’t know that you needed to. But my salad was wonderful, and my guests all agreed that the daikon was a great flavour. The next time I used daikon, just this past weekend, I was again going for a quasi-oriental flavour, and thought that medallions of daikon would be perfect in my vegetable stir-fry with black bean sauce. I wasn’t wrong.

            Again, I didn’t peel the root. Cooking radishes will tame their heat. You can even steam red radishes if you find them too hot, but you will end up with a pink vegetable. Pink is not a favourite food colour of mine. As before, my guests were impressed with the flavour of the dish and asked me what the mystery ingredient was. I always love it when guests ask for recipes. That is a true compliment for any cook.

            All radishes originated in China, but the majority of daikon we purchase today will be grown in either California or Florida. When choosing one, make sure that it is firm, and the skin is a clear translucent white with no blemishes. If you think that it will be too hot for you or your guests, then certainly peel it with a potato peeler. I don’t find it too hot at all, especially once cooked.

            So there you have it, my latest secret ingredient that will be no secret to anyone on Gabriola now, because everyone reads my articles, don’t they?