Archive for May, 2010

Friends, we may have our differences.  We may come from varying backgrounds, different upbringings, a thousand contradictory belief systems, and the hues of our skin may be scattered with the utmost randomness on this great big color wheel we call life.  (Wait.  What?  That didn’t make any sense at all.)  In fact, each of us is as unique as a snowflake, with no two alike, and blah and stuff and things.  But there is one thing that we all have in common.

We are all choking on an influx of radishes.

Well, okay, so maybe that isn’t happening to ALL of us, but it is happening to anyone who subscribes to a CSA/farmshare box or grows their own radishes (or, uh, in the case of yours truly, both).

Friends, The Boy and I are inundated with radishes from our little urban farm.

DROWNING in radishes.

GAGGING on radishes.

TAKING BUBBLE BATHS with radishes.  (Did I just say the quiet part loud again?  DAMMIT!)

The other day I couldn’t find The Boy.  I called for him everywhere.  Checked under the couch.  Called the local brewpubs.  Looked in the dryer, just in case he accidentally shrunk himself.

(Note to self: write a sitcom pilot entitled, “Honey, I Shrunk The Boy!”)

I even suspiciously eyed the leftovers in the fridge that had become sentient a week prior.  The Boy was nowhere to be found.

So as I sat there, weeping gently to myself in a Victorian gown with an embroidered handkerchief pressed to my eyes as I penned his obituary, I heard a faint gagging sound.  Turned out, The Boy had merely tripped and fallen deep into the pile of radishes and was attempting to eat his way out.

Sadly, he failed miserably and we still have all these radishes to eat.

But not to worry!  See, it isn’t all bad news because, despite the fact that radishes are more than abundant in our home right now, they’re still pretty delicious, and you could ask for worse problems in life than a never-ending radish supply.

I think.

The ones we grew are the diminutive French Breakfast variety, which means they’re tender, mild, and gone in two or three bites.  It also means they’re ideal for stuffing into a buttered baguette and sprinkling with sea salt.  Add a glass of homemade red wine, a beret, a Gauloise cigarette between your lips, and a questionable sense of hygiene, and you may as well be in Paris.  Ooh la la!

BUT.  If you’re at all like me, you’d like some additional options.  You know.  For when you feel like shaving your legs again.

That’s where I come in as your personal hero.  Buddies, comrades, fellow soldiers in this war on unruly radishes, here are some of the coolest radish recipes I’ve come across on the web.

You’re welcome.

Asian Slaw with Roasted Peanuts (doesn’t call for radishes, just for chopped vegetables–I’m trying it with radishes tonight)

Dilled Potato and Pickled Cucumber Salad with Radishes

Pickled Radishes

Radish Cream Cheese Spread (for when you get tired of butter on your baguettes–oh he hahahaha HAHAHAHA BWAHAHA oh ho ho, that was a good one)

Sauteed Radishes and Sugar Snaps with Dill

Spring Radishes Braised with Shallots and Vinegar

Grilled Chicken with Cucumber, Radish, and Cherry Tomato Relish (I could see this being great on fish, too)

Any other great radish obliterating ideas out there?  Leave them in the comments section!

Oh, and friends?


I think we’re about to have another problem on our hands:

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True story: I hate cornbread.  Really.  I know that merely hearing the word “cornbread” has scores of other people fainting in ecstasy.

Do people faint in ecstasy?

Anyway.  I’ve NEVER liked cornbread.  It’s always so dry and crumbly and seems to require an entire glass and a half of water to choke it down.  I’ve tried to like it, really.  But anything that immediately sucks up my mouth juices and asphyxiates me with its corniness is generally not my thing.  In fact, even hearing the word cornbread makes me want to cough and gag.

COOORNbread ::cough::cough::

COOOOOOOORNbread  ::gag::gag::

See?  You misfits always make Bad Mama Genny prove these things to you.

Anyway.  When I saw this recipe for Custard-Filled Cornbread, I immediately dismissed it, after coughing and gagging for a little while.  No way is the cornbread ::cough cough:: gonna trick me, I said to myself.  No way is this tarted up little cornbread ::gag gag:: going to fool me into trying it so it can suck out my mouth juices and kill me with its corniness.  Soooo not falling for that one.

And then I thought some more about custard, and how delicious it is.  Custard doesn’t make me cough OR gag.  In fact, custard makes me sit up and listen.  Custard makes BMG go, “wow.”

And then I was all, what if this cornbread ::cough gag:: is different because of the custard ::wow!::?  What if custard ::wow:: is enough to make me like cornbread ::gag gag::?  Could I become a cornbread gag fan because of some simple custard wow?

I mean, wow.

Then I got a headache.  All the coughing and gagging and wowing.

Then I decided to try the damn thing.  And friends, it is fabulous.

And easy–the batter took all of five minutes to whip together, and the custard forms from a layer of cream that you pour on top right before baking.

Don’t get me wrong–I still hate cornbread :cough:.  But this is not cornbread ::gag::.  This is an effing cornCAKE, my friends.  A cake that you drizzle maple syrup over and eat for four meals a day, as I’m proceeding to do.  A cake that’s just as good with chili and cheese as it is with honey and cream as it is with maple syrup and banana slices.  A cake that’s good hot or cold.

A cake that would never suck out your mouth juices.

Friends, I would never allow your mouth juices to be sucked out.  I just don’t work that way.

Here is the recipe I used, which appears on the fab food blog, “First Look, Then Cook”.  By the way, thanks to my distracted state while I was baking, we now know that this recipe is extremely forgiving, because I accidentally threw in an extra egg, used whole milk yogurt instead of cream, and clumsily splooshed in a little extra vinegar.

So go ahead and enjoy your regular old dry, mouth-juice sucking cornbread ::cough cough  GAG GAG::.  But then eat this custard WOW.  And remember me, friends.

Eat this custard in memory of me.

<lightning bolt striking Bad Mama Genny, Bad Mama Genny smacking the shit out of the lightning bolt, lightning bolt running away with tail betwixt its legs while whining>

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