By KAREN MADORIN
Decades ago, we bought a little bungalow on two acres outside of Ellis. This starter home had many charms, but my favorite was the fenced garden spot behind the old barn. It planted a lifelong love for growing food and flowers in yours truly. Since then, I’ve learned a thing or two, including what I wish I’d known then—horseradish is a top-shelf condiment with the added bonus of clearing sinuses better than a saline rinse. You can also companion plant its interesting leaves near fruiting trees and bushes to deter pests.
That home had long stood empty before we took possession in October. Not surprisingly, chest-high weeds had overtaken the garden. I spent weeks pulling deep-rooted pigweed and other noxious growth from the barb-wire enclosed site. As I filled towering burn piles with my efforts, I spied a corner filled with large, wrinkly, saw-tooth leaves surrounding a fence post. Tangled roots delayed removal, and I noted a pungent odor. I asked an experienced green thumb to identify this mystery plant before I dug into the mess. She called it horseradish and told me to leave it. At that time, I’d only smelled horseradish but never tasted it, and since those plants occupied such a small portion of our big garden, I followed her advice.
Our cottage sat near Big Creek on flood plain-enriched soil. Year after year, we grew an abundance of tomatoes, peppers, melons, corn, cucumbers, okra, potatoes, onions, spinach, and other veggies. Planting a seed or tucking a tomato or pepper plant in that rich, dark loam guaranteed rooting. Our toughest job required pick off horn worms and beetles before the bugs destroyed our plants.
As predictable as the calendar, that corner of horseradish returned every year. Oddly, I never thought to learn how to use it. Keep in mind, I couldn’t look something up on a phone with the click of a button, I saw no fruit on the plant, and no one I knew used these roots.
Fast forward 42 years. We went to a restaurant that served prime beef with a side-dollop of freshly grated horseradish. Despite its spicy-hot scent, my husband and I curiously dabbed some on a bite of meat. Oh, my goodness, what had we missed out on all those years! That little dip of grated root added intense flavor and a sinus cleaning at the same time. Not long afterward, a foodie friend gave us a jar of Porubsky pickles processed with horseradish. What a rush of sensory overload followed by unstuffed nasal passages!
Several decades and houses later, we will plant our first horseradish roots this spring. I found several internet sites offering guidance for first growing and then grinding this spicy mustard-family root. These experienced horseradish users recommend processing in a well-ventilated area while wearing protective gloves and eye gear. After irritating my fingers processing jalapeños, I’ll follow their directions. The stunner with horseradish is that once you grate or grind peeled roots, you simply add vinegar to preserve it.
Come late fall, we’ll enjoy a batch of freshly ground horseradish and the clearest sinuses in town. I’m guessing I’ll add a little to a jar of okra pickles just for kicks.