The Season for Canapés

Last night, after a particularly frustrating and discouraging day (even the chronically excited among us have them), my Sidekick whisked me away to Henry Public for a "Let's Celebrate Learning Things from Failure by Eating All of the Things" kind of a meal. He brought out the big guns out for this meal, "Bone marrow?" he asked. "Oysters?"

"No," I said, "radishes, please."

I tend to forget about radishes in the wintertime. Their particular snap and crunch slips away from my memory until I reach the point of the season where I only want to eat things I can consume straight out of the refrigerator, icy cold. Henry Public employs my absolute favorite preparation for radishes: cold, halved, served with soft, sweet butter and big flakes of salt. Yesterday, for some reason, a smear of butter on an astringently spicy radish half (along with a cocktail that widened my eyes) was exactly what I needed to start it all over again today. And now, as usual when the days lengthen and the beers get colder, radishes are all I want.

Springtime is (YEAH) officially upon us, which means it's time for more radishes, more canapés and more rooftop parties. It is in that spirit that we are talking about Radish Canapés today. If you don't have a rooftop party for these, let's invent one!

Radish Canapés

Sauté or toast finger-shaped cuts of bread and spread them with some savory paste, or with highly-seasoned cream cheese*.

Prepare small radishes by scoring them lengthwise with a lemon scorer or with a fluted knife; or, not having either of these, cut out narrow strips with a plain sharp knife. Then cut the radishes crosswise into this slices and arrange them on the canapés, overlapping one another with a tiny parsley leaf in the center.

* In my case: salt, pepper, dill and lemon zest.