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There were Jerusalem artichokes in the shuk this week, looking so pretty in their light pink and brown jackets that I had to cram a few into my overloaded shopping bag. You can see what my local shuk looks like here and here.

Then I wandered over to the big herb stand, the one that has the biggest, most varied mushroom display, and bought a little basket of button mushrooms. Once home, it seemed natural to cook the chokes and mushrooms together. I’m glad I did. The earthy mushrooms complemented the choke’s slight sweetness, and all was made piquant with onions and spices. It was really tasty, and a hit with my vegetarian friend who was lunching with me that day. I’ll do it again.

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image-creamy-oatmealIs oatmeal really only for kids?

But I love hot cereal. Especially on a cold, windy, rainy morning, when Husband and the Little One are already out of the house and my only date is with the computer. (Ah, that romance with a robot). If I’ve been efficient and started my oatmeal early on – while bleary-eyed, I was putting together the Little One’s sandwiches and boiling water for Husband’s tea – I can  then sit down peacefully with the bowl of soothing, satisfying oatmeal, all by myself.

But it has to be creamy almost to smoothness. Aromatic with cinnamon.  With a few pieces of chopped date or some raisins for contrast. Just off-sweet is how I like it, although most folks like it sweeter. It takes very little work, but some time.

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There I was in the kitchen, staring at a black radish.

I felt a little intimidated.

I’d never handled or eaten a black radish. It was so very black. Its skin was rough, almost like suede, and it looked tough to slice. I mean – black foods don’t usually scare me. If there’s anything I love to eat, it’s black beans. Why should I, who routinely joint whole raw chickens without turning a hair, feel insecure in front of a radish?

It all started with my Glazed Turnips post. In the comments, readers, especially cookbook author Faye Levy, encouraged me to cultivate the acquaintance of radishes. OK. I got fired up. Next time I took a bus out to the shuk, I made a point of getting four different kinds of radishes. Yes, you’ll be reading about all of them. But I bravely took the strangest-looking one first.

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image-glazed turnips

Consider the humble turnip. Humble, because so many people treat it snobbishly. How would you feel if you were a turnip, lying there hopefully in the supermarket bin and watching all the good cooks strolling past you without a second glance? Even a potato gets better press than a turnip.

I confess, I’ve never been fond of turnips. Except once, my mother peeled and roasted one next to the Shabbat chicken, and it was delicious. It soaked up some of the chicken drippings, and with its natural sweetness it just came out a winner. But I’ve never cooked one till recently.

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