Have you ever heard of редькa (pronounced Red’ka)?
Folk recipes are an integral part of Russian culture. We are a superstitious lot, and the long-standing conflict with religion has never been a problem in that regard. Despite being so very Canadian and believing wholeheartedly in modern medicine, I can’t help but think that there must be truth in the healing powers of old.
When I was growing up, the best cure for a persistent cough in our home was neither Buckley’s or Cepacol, no, it was black radish with honey, also known as “Red’ka”. If you’ve ever seen a black radish at the supermarket and wondered “what do I do with that?”, here’s your answer!
As a root vegetable, it’s full of vitamins and nutrients, but the best and most delicious way to pull out its powers is by cutting a large whole in its centre, filling it with honey, then putting its cap back on and letting it sit for a while. Keep your black radish propped up on a glass or an egg holder on the counter and watch its healing powers drip into an elixir worthy of Professor Snape’s potions class. The honey makes the concoction sweet and delicious while the radish gives it its nutrients and helps sooth the throat. You can keep refilling your radish with more honey for a day or two, then cut a new one!
Today, I made this concoction for my foster child. He’s five and has asthma. His throat can use as much soothing as it can get. Cutting through the black radish and filling it with honey was a kind of magic I rarely experience: A connection to the women before me, women in small cold villages, buried under 30 cm of snow, finding ways to support their families when the closest doctor was miles and miles away and the only means of getting there was horse and buggy. The smell of the black radish’s innards was familiar, it smelled of my mother’s kitchen, of childhood and long winter nights, of connections forged before I had the inclination or the need to find words for them, of tradition. When you’re a foster parent, traditions are difficult. The child in your care has had so many other influences, starts and stops, but the little things allow me to remember that I’ve come from a tradition too, and that even if it’s just for today, I can pass it down.
TrialsandTeacups 