Vesnyanyi Salat (весняний салат, spring radish salad)

The first radish does not taste gentle. It snaps back, peppery and wet, with that clean red edge you only get when the ground has just decided winter is finished. Slice a whole bunch into a bowl and the colors are almost rude after months of cellar food: pink skins, white flesh, yellow egg, green onion, dill everywhere, cold smetana pulling it all together.

This is the salad that appears when the garden gives you something at last. On Easter tables it sits beside dyed eggs, pasky, cold meats, whatever your family puts out when the fast is over and the windows can finally stay open. In the south, where I come from, spring runs quickly into heat, so you eat these sharp little things while they are still tender. Blink and the radishes get woody. The litnya kuhnia, the summer kitchen, can wait. This belongs under a fruit tree before the leaves have thickened.

The method is hardly a method, which is why people ruin it by fussing. Salt the radishes first, until they shine and give up a little pink juice. Dress with smetana only at the end, so it stays cold and coats the vegetables instead of thinning into a puddle. Aunt Nadia wrote once, "cut while they still smell of soil," which is not a measurement, but she was right.

Make enough for the table. It won't keep its best manners for long, but that is not a flaw. Some dishes are meant to be eaten while they are still speaking.