Holy Kohlrabi!

I have heard of kohlrabi, seen kohlrabi, could probably likely identify it if needed to, but it never occurred to me to actually try it. So when I was at the Farmer's Market last week, I found myself in a talkative mood. Sometimes you just want to get in and get out and woe betide the one who tries to strike up a conversation with you. You don't get that? Maybe it's me.

I was looking for something unusual to bring home. Kale was stricken from the kitchen due to Guitar Boy, ("I don't like the texture," he wailed at me once,) and if I had to look at another zucchini, I might find myself ramming it down someone's throat. Tomatoes, well, yeah, tomatoes are nice, but tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes. So my eyes alighted on a deep purple alien ball: "Kohlrabi, .50" as I was purchasing a pint of Italian plums. (You cannot get between me and my plums, so don't even try.)

"Oh, kohlrabi," I said outloud.

"Yes, kohlrabi, you'd love it, it's awesome." The lady at the stand jumped in.

"How do you eat it?"

"You peel it, then slice it thinly, and just sprinkle some salt on top. It's great, you'll love it." She snatched up a spiky royal-colored one and plopped it in my bag. 

"Oh, like a radish?" My moment of enlightenment.

"Yes! Try it and you'll be coming back for more."

"Er... okay, wow, thanks!" and I walked away.

So why wasn't I overly thrilled for being offered a kohlrabi? I have a mild dislike of radishes (understatement.) Being handed this enormous extraterrestrial vegetable that promised to be an oversized, probably more pungent, radish wasn't making me skip for joy.

I find radishes bland with a peppery aftertaste. There's no excitement there. Then, as they sit out, they become slightly rubbery which tended to happen in my household growing up. My mom harbored an unhealthy love for these red and white balls, serving them with buttered bread and salt. Sometimes, she'd throw them into salads. I ate around them, always. She would just have a bunch of slices lying around and nibble at them throughout the day, blech.

But my philosophy is, well, you can't say you hate something without even trying it. So, literally an entire week later, I finally remembered the kohlrabi in my crisper and brought it out to the counter. I stared at it, took a picture or two because, well, it's pretty and unusual so why not. Then, with a peeler, I attacked one side of it. I got the purple peel off, then continuing to use the peeler, I cut out ultra-thin slices. A sprinkle of salt. I ate a piece. Then, another. Then, another. Then I toasted a slice of bread, spread it with a dab of dijon mustard and a kiss of honey and piled loads and loads of sliced kohlrabi on top. Sprinkle of salt, dash of pepper, and a squeeze of lemon.

Holy Kohlrabi!

In my mind, this kohlrabi has proved itself far and beyond the lowly radish. I offer no sorrow for those pitiful things because... kohlrabi.

It turns out there's so much more you can do with kohlrabi other than thinly slice them and dress them with a dusting of salt. I don't know why you want to try because this is kind of perfection on its own, but like one gets sick of zucchini after the upteenth recipe, it's nice to have a backup. You can pickle them, roast them, shave them into salads, turn it into a ceviche, deep fry them, steam them, and probably throw them into a stew with much too thick gravy (guilty.) I can't picture things like cucumber or radishes being cooked (ew, limp, warm radishes,) but kohlrabi has a promise of releasing luscious sweet sugars to caramelize and send the vegetable to a whole new level of food.

I will get around to trying one of the cooked recipes for kohlrabi, but until then, I'm content with a slice of bread and salt. 

By the way, I did go back for more, just like she said.

Pieczenia Proziaki: Polish Soda Bread

Pieczenia proziaki is Polish bread made with baking soda rather than yeast. As a result, it's really quick and easy to make with just a very light amount of kneading. It's not even worth getting out the electric mixture for this, it's that simple.

Strangely enough, even though my parents immigrated from Poland, they've never made this when I was growing up. They know of it but not the recipe. It took some stealthy research to come up with one; that and some frequent testing. Though there are several ways to present it, I chose to make the round loaf as opposed to the small round flat breads just because the only directions I could find for it were way too vague. Sadly, I don't speak or read Polish. It's something my mom has berated me forever about though I think it's my parents' fault for not teaching me. Gotta love that old-fashioned Catholic guilt.

Alas, that's the joy of being your parent's child, right? 

Like all breads, it requires your touch and judgement to know the correct proportions. Here are the basic measurements of the ingredients, but as you'll see in the directions, you may need more or less of an ingredient to come out to the same result. You know, bread is like that, but don't let it deter you because this is pretty forgiving no matter what you do.

 Pieczenia Proziaki- Makes one 6" loaf

Gather up:

• 1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour (I use whole wheat)
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 to 1 cup sour cream
• 1 tsp honey (or sweetener of your choice: sugar, agave nectar, etc.)

Now, make it:

• Preheat oven to 425 degrees, prepare a kneading surface by dusting with flour, and prepare a baking pan by dusting with flour as well
• In a large bowl, sift or whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt. (I just whisk with a fork.)
• Create a well in the center of the flour and pour in the sour cream starting with 1/2 cup and honey
• Using a wooden spatula, slowly mix flour into the sour cream. If it looks a little dry, add a little more sour cream.
• Once the dough is coming together with about 1/3 to 1/4 of dry flour still loose, dump the dough and flour over the kneading surface and begin to knead gently. Use a light hand and move quickly because unlike yeast, the baking soda can cause the gluten in bread to tighten up too fast and make it tough.
• Knead to achieve a slightly sticky but elastic dough. You don't want it to be leaving bits of dough on the surface because it's so sticky, but you don't want it to be completely dry. You may need to add more sour cream or more flour as you knead or you may already have the perfect consistency without adding either. (I've been known to use nearly a whole tub of sour cream with good results if that makes you feel better.)
• Shape into a ball gently and place onto the baking pan. Using a sharp knife, make an X into the surface quickly and decisively. Then, dust the surface with more flour.
• Bake for 30-40 minutes until golden and the crust is firm. It will sound hollow when tapped. My method is to use two towels to flip the loaf upside down in one hand and to tap the bottom. If it sounds hollow, it's done.
• Let cool on a rack immediately. 
• Serve with butter and salted radish slices because well, it's Polish.

Here's why it's forgiving. If you use too much sour cream, it's okay because it'll still taste good. The slices will be extremely moist and a bit crumbly so use this as a bread for soup and stew. We still use it to make peanut butter toast regardless. If you had more flour than sour cream, you'll have firmer slices that can be toasted and topped with your favorite spread. First, just experiment the way you like then go from there. Don't try to aim for a firm or soft bread on your first try. Test it out as is.

If you don't want to use sour cream, you can use whole yogurt, greek yogurt, or even one of those Activia yogurt drinks in a pinch (been there, done that.) Buttermilk and kefir works as well. Here's why regular milk won't work. The fermented dairy has the acid that baking soda needs to help make the bread rise. I'm eager to try this with creme fraiche or mascarapone cheese for a sweet bread because, man, that sounds good. I would have to whip or soften them first so they can blend into the flour well.

This loaf is magical. Why? Because it pretty much disappears when I'm not looking, (glares at Guitar Boy.) He has been known to take enormous bites out of the loaf itself leaving me with weird crooked slices for my freaking peanut butter toast in the morning. (Glares again.) I really need to make several and freeze them next time. I bet you this can be easily doubled for a larger loaf. Just bake for a little longer.

Next time, I'm going to try and add some flax seeds or chopped herbs. Smacznego!