The basic idea here was to use up some veggies I can’t ship off to Siberia (my nickname for our new freezer.)
I’m not sure I would’ve thought of trying them on pizza if I hadn’t seen the yummy looking carrot pizza on Terrified Tastebud, though I wound up going in the opposite direction here: Stripped down instead of gourmet.
I don’t particularly like radishes, though I’m willing to gnaw on them occasionally to release that spicy vapory effect that prevents me from eating other things like, say, cake.
In this case, I decide to see if radishes can stand in for onions, which I do like, at least when they’re cooked up on a pizza with mushrooms. So I cut them as if they’re onions and saute them in a little olive oil with some Baby Bellas we have on hand and them dump them on a simple pita bread crust with a little marinara sauce and a generous spoonful of Parmesan cheese.
I figure if I’m going to do an experiment like this, I don’t want a lot of variables. Just “radishes on pizza — yes or no?”
Post-saute, the radishes don’t look quite as distinctive as they did. But here’s the real surprise: I keep telling myself, as I eat this pizza, to pay attention so I can document what a radish pizza tastes like. Something outrageous, is what I’m guessing.
Only … it doesn’t seem to really taste like much of anything. Less distinctive than onions. Less spicy and strong than radishes. Just kind of another warm veggie body sharing space with the shrooms. Slightly less amenable to being eaten than shrooms; a little bit of an odd aftertaste, but definitely not a radish taste.
So: Yes or no?
Yes, I think you could definitely smuggle some radishes onto, say, a supreme pizza without rocking anybody’s boat.
But if you really want to have a radish pizza experience — and it’s still not clear to me whether I do or not, but I do still have some radishes to use up — then I think what I’d try next time is traditionally sliced radishes, raw, paired with some spicy turkey pepperoni.