I'd had a great lunch with my gaggle of gardening pals from work, when at the end of the meal my friend got out her radishes. From her handbag. That she'd planted at mine as part of my potting night.
It was a class move to wow the crowd, and one that came from a deep sense of pride in these two beauties, despite being a couple of days past their freshly picked best.
Radishes can be strange, often neglected. These two came from a mixed seed packet and make strange brothers. I'm reliably told that they have a strong peppery taste that gives rocket a run for its money but works well with it too. Keep it simple.
And on the evidence of these nuggets, again from my friend, radishes are quite the varied sort:
Radishes are dirt cheap, less than a quid for a pack of seeds if you know where to look. You can sow them straight into the ground and leave them be with just regular watering. And they can be ready in a month or two. They don't take up much space. What's not to like?
Well, for some reason I couldn't seem to get them to produce. At all. Not even a hint of decent crop despite long stalks. One of the most satisfying things is pulling up a crop and hearing patter of the falling soil, the aroma released from its disturbance after weeks of peace, and the sense that this really is the freshest beast you could find.
Inspired by earlier, I ran out into the garden and pulled up, er: this:
Worse than disappointing. Humiliating. Chalked up as this year's worst failure so far... I can only hope a quick re-sow will make amends and restore my own sense of pride from this radish shame.