Winter watermelon radish soup

At the final farmers market of the summer, I bought winter melons from a farmer named Nancy. She’s from northern China and often sells produce I’ve never heard of. After filling my bag with those obscure melons, Nancy pivoted smoothly into trying to sell me a tuber the size and shape of a russet potato. She had one left. It had grown so quickly that its pale green skin had split open, revealing red-pink flesh inside. This root crop was another melon of sorts, an heirloom radish known as watermelon radish.

“Very good for soup,” Nancy assured me in her thick, endearing accent.  “So good with pork,” she added, speaking my language fluently.

Also known as a Chinese red meat radish and sometimes called a beauty heart radish, the watermelon radish is an heirloom variety of daikon. It can keep for months if stored properly, making it a favorite among winter-market farmers. Since Nancy put it on my radar, I’ve noticed the radish at specialty grocery stores, too. While the skin is spicy and slightly bitter, the flesh is mild, whether raw or cooked.

I didn’t learn any of those watermelon radish facts from Nancy. In fact, I had somehow managed to walk away from her stand thinking that I had just bought a red-fleshed turnip.

This misidentification wasn’t an issue at first because I followed her directions and made a glorious batch of brothy soup. I use the term “directions” in a very loose sense because Nancy isn’t a micro-manager when she gives a recipe. So, the recipe is partly my own.

“Cook the pork,” she said, “then chop the onions very small.” After that, she instructed to add ginger, salt, pepper and vinegar.

I started with bacon and added potatoes and cabbage because I have a hard time not messing with recipes. But these lowkey additions didn’t disrupt the subtle nature of the soup. The radish flesh turned soft, watery and sweet, and the resulting soup was mellow and satisfying. Other than the ginger and rice vinegar, there were no Asian ingredients, but the subtle flavor had an exotic vibe. Nobody could stop eating it — even my son, a picky eater who can be suspicious of vegetables.

“I can’t believe how much food you’re eating,” I commented.

“Well,” he explained, “this good food is really good.”

A few days later, I went looking for red-fleshed turnips at the supermarket. I couldn’t find any, of course, because they don’t exist. I brought home some regular white turnips instead, and the resulting soup wasn’t the same. It was harsh, thanks to the spicy turnip.

I added kale, carrots and chunks of baked squash and seasoned with soy sauce and fish sauce. I added meat and green tomatoes, my new favorite fall ingredient. The flavor improved with each addition, and I ended up with a complex and satisfying cold-weather stew. So, if you find yourself with some turnips you don’t know what to do with, this dish is a great option. But it’s nothing like the mild, comforting, otherworldly flavor of radish broth.

I’ve previously written about a chilled daikon radish soup called naengmyeon. That soup is also a showstopper. Since daikon is a close relative of watermelon radish, I gave Nancy’s recipe a shot with daikon. The flavor was equally mesmerizing.

If you happen to be lucky enough to find watermelon radish, run home and make this soup. Otherwise, daikon is available everywhere. It’s not quite as pretty or sweet, but nonetheless, you have no excuse not to make this soup.

Here’s Nancy’s recipe as best I understood it, plus my added potatoes and cabbage, which you can omit if you want to stay true to her version. I’ve also made her soup with beef instead of pork. It’s good, but it’s slightly thinner without the irreplaceable glaze of pig fat. Of course, if you’re not a pork eater, you won’t miss it.

Whatever tweaks you make, don’t overdo it like you’re trying to outwrestle a turnip. With radish soup, less is more.

Watermelon radish soup

If you can find watermelon radish at a specialty vegetable store or your local winter market, grab it. If not, use daikon.

I wish I could advise you to cook it with the peel on because that really makes it resemble a watermelon. But the peel makes the flavor too spicy and bitter, which breaks the spell.

Serves four

1/2 pound pork or red meat, cut

into 1/2-inch chunks (optional)

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 pound potatoes, cut into

1/2-inch cubes

One onion, chopped small

3 teaspoons grated ginger

1 clove garlic, minced

8 cups water (or vegetable stock

if you’re not using meat)

1 cup shredded or finely

chopped cabbage

A pinch of black pepper

2 teaspoons salt

2 teaspoons rice vinegar

6 ounces peeled watermelon or

daikon radish flesh, cut into

3/4-inch cubes

Add the olive oil and meat to a heavy-bottomed soup pot on medium heat. After five minutes, add the potatoes. Five minutes later, add the onions. Cook with the lid on for 10 minutes, until they’re translucent. Add the ginger and garlic and cook briefly until the garlic smells fragrant. Add the water, cabbage, salt, pepper, vinegar and radish. Simmer on medium heat until the radish is soft but not soggy, about 15 minutes.