The Christmas Crop

Although I was born and raised in Southern California, I grew my first formative--and most abundant--vegetable garden while a graduate student at the University of Iowa. Iowa soil spoils a gardener. Crops are so healthy and abundant one need barely plant a seed. I’m still not convinced that a mere glance ( okra , here! ) is not sufficient to make things grow in that fertile black dirt.

Although my California gardens, in comparison, have been exercises in coaxing, coddling and diminished expectations, the year-round growing season more than compensates for any disappointments. My Iowa self may sneer at the straggliness of my beds, the lack of vigor in my pole beans and corn, but my California self gloats that I won’t be pulling bags of frozen corn from the freezer Christmas morning; I’ll be out in the yard harvesting six kinds of salad greens, peas, chard, rapini, beets, a few fat Roma tomatoes from one remaining tenacious vine, and, prettiest of all, kohlrabi.

Kohlrabi is a holdover from my Iowa days, when I raised unusual vegetables to punctuate the monotony of profusion. In California, however, I plant kohlrabi in early October, when most Iowans are harvesting the last of theirs and throwing the frost-killed remains of their gardens into the compost pile. (I still find it transporting that, in California, October is one of the best months for planting vegetables.) Planting in October is a form of Christmas shopping: Almost everything’s ready by Dec. 25.

A bulbous stem, kohlrabi is an alleged cross between a cabbage ( kohl ) and a turnip ( rapa ). Technically, it’s a member of the cabbage family. Kohlrabi comes in two colors: a lovely pink-violet and a pale, whitened green. Shape, however, is its most remarkable characteristic. A good specimen is wonderfully cordate, heart-shaped, with leaves pulling upward out of its body with an organic fluidity suggesting wings.

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Deciding what kohlrabi looks like is an ongoing conversation I have with my friends. We agree it resembles a celestial body but cannot reach consensus as to which celestial body. One person dubs it the angel of vegetables, another the Saturn of vegetables, a third the Sputnik of vegetables. When just pulled from the ground, kohlrabi looks to me like nothing so much as one of those milagro symbols: a flaming sacred heart stuck on a tuft of sturdy, dirt-grabbing roots.

Largely because of its otherworldly looks and relative rarity, kohlrabi frightens as many as it converts. Otherwise adventurous cooks view kohlrabi as a form of vegetal marginalia--something you’d never acquire if your gardening neighbor didn’t give it to you, something you’d never consider eating if only you had pigs to toss it to.

I had pigs in Iowa--Joey, who did tricks, and Mrs. Bennett, an evil-tempered sow--and the only part of the kohlrabi they ever ate were the parings. (Kohlrabi should be peeled before cooking; the leaves can be discarded, although they’re also good steamed or dropped into soups.)

Despite looking like a creature from outer space, kohlrabi’s flavors are decidedly down-to-earth. It’s a kind of solid, leafless cabbage; a milder, friendlier turnip. In fact, like a good friend, it adjusts agreeably to one’s whims and, if handled with respect, is useful in a variety of situations without losing any of its distinctive and excellent character.

Kohlrabi is good on salads either grated raw or julienned and blanched to a pleasing green tenderness. In fritter-like pancakes, kohlrabi performs admirably as the starch component of a meal. I like it best roasted in a hot oven with plenty of olive oil and salt: golden, mild, and sexy in a slippery green way, roasted kohlrabi can be eaten hot or at room temperature, which makes it especially good for a big holiday meal, when it’s virtually impossible to get everybody to the table while the food’s still piping hot.

KOHLRABI PANCAKES

2 cups grated kohlrabi, peeled, leaves removed

1/2 cup grated or finely chopped onion

2 eggs lightly beaten

1/4 cup bread crumbs

1/4 teaspoon salt

Fresh ground pepper

Oil

Combine kohlrabi, onion, eggs, bread crumbs and salt and pepper to taste in bowl.

Heat oil in large skillet. Pat kohlrabi mixture into 3-inch patties in palm of hand and lower gently into hot oil. Fry over medium-low heat, flipping when firmed up and nicely browned, about 2 minutes per side. Drain on paper towels. Can be kept warm in oven. Serve with apple sauce or grilled pear slices. Makes 12 pancakes or 4 servings.

Each serving contains about:

97 calories; 239 mg sodium; 107 mg cholesterol; 4 grams fat; 11 grams carbohydrates; 5 grams protein; 0.83 gram fiber.

ROASTED KOHLRABI

3 to 4 kohlrabi, about 2 1/2 pounds, peeled, leaves removed

1/2 cup olive oil

1 teaspoon coarse salt

Slice kohlrabi 1/2-inch thick. Place slices in single layer in roasting pan. Drizzle with oil. Season with salt. Toss well to coat. Roast at 450 degrees until golden, about 20 minutes, stirring as necessary to keep from sticking. Makes 4 servings.

Each serving contains about:

314 calories; 940 mg sodium; trace cholesterol; 27 grams fat; 17 grams carbohydrates; 5 grams protein; 2.80 grams fiber.

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