8 recipes that use white radish, with photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Muli thepla, takes 30 minutes. It is most often cooked with coriander, garlic and ginger.
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Muli thepla are spicy Gujarati flatbreads made with grated white radish, which gives all the moisture the dough needs. Ginger, garlic, chilli and coriander make them punchy. Roll them out straight away and cook on a hot griddle. Serve with pickled green chillies and plain yogurt.
Sinigang is the sour soup that Tagalog families crave when the monsoon arrives between June and October, when rain hammers the tin roofs and a steaming bowl next to rice feels like the only sensible lunch. The sourness traditionally comes from young tamarind (sampalok) boiled and mashed into the broth, and the vegetables are whatever the market has: white radish, taro to thicken the soup slightly, okra, yard-long beans, aubergine and a final handful of water spinach. This vegetarian sinigang na gulay skips the pork or fish and relies on the tamarind, tomato and onion for flavour. The broth should make you pucker a little on the first sip. Chef's tip: add the tamarind in stages and taste between each, since blocks of tamarind vary a lot in sourness.
Singapore's carrot cake has no carrot in it: "carrot" is the local word for white radish (daikon). A steamed cake of rice flour and grated radish is cut into cubes and fried with egg and garlic until crisp and golden, either "white" (plain and eggy) or "black" (with sweet dark soy). It's a breakfast and supper favourite at hawker centres like Chinatown Complex. Most stalls add chai poh (preserved radish); this version leaves it out because many brands are made with fish sauce, and spring onions bring the savoury lift instead. Chef's tip: steam the cake a day ahead and chill it overnight; cold, firm cake cuts cleanly and crisps instead of falling apart.
Despite the name, ram ladoo aren't sweet. They're small, crisp moong and chana dal fritters, sold from carts across Delhi in winter, when white radish is at its best. The vendor splits a few hot ones, smears them with a sharp coriander chutney and buries them under a heap of grated mooli and its leaves, with lemon and chaat masala over the top. Hot, crunchy fritters against cold, peppery radish is the whole appeal; it's a light snack for a foggy evening. Chef's tip: grind the soaked dal with as little water as possible, then beat the batter by hand for 3–4 minutes; air whipped into it is what makes the ladoos puff up and stay light.
Labra is the vegetable dish of Durga Puja bhog: in community pandals across Bengal it is ladled out beside khichuri and a sweet tomato chutney to hundreds of people sitting in rows. It is a loose jumble of pumpkin, potato, aubergine, radish, sweet potato, raw banana and spinach stalks, cooked with panch phoron and ginger until some pieces melt and others hold. No onion or garlic goes in, because it is temple food. Chef's tip: add the vegetables in order of hardness, so the pumpkin goes soft and sweet while the radish and banana keep their shape.
Guiyang's favourite street snack is a do-it-yourself meal: stalls set out twenty or more small bowls of shredded vegetables, and each person wraps a few strands in a pancake no bigger than a palm, folds it like a swaddled baby and pours in a spoonful of sour, chilli-flecked broth. It's light, crunchy and fun to eat with friends. Use as many fillings as you like; the more colours, the better. Chef's tip: shred everything as fine as you can, so the little parcels stay neat and each mouthful has several flavours.
High in the hills of Sikkim, where winters are long and cold, Bhutia and Lepcha households make phagshapa from fatty strips of pork, white radish and fiery dried red chillies. Traditionally it uses no oil at all: the pork renders its own fat, and the radish soaks it up and turns meltingly soft. It is everyday warming food in Gangtok kitchens, eaten with rice and a bowl of clear soup. Chef's tip: cut the radish thick, in batons, so it holds its shape through the long simmer.
In Lanzhou, capital of Gansu, the day starts at a noodle shop where cooks stretch dough into strands before your eyes and drop them into bowls of clear, fragrant beef broth. Locals describe the ideal bowl in five colours: clear broth, white radish, red chilli oil, green coriander and garlic shoots, and yellow noodles. The broth is light yet deeply beefy and gently spiced, the radish sweet, the chilli oil toasty rather than fierce. This version uses good bought noodles, with an optional route for pulling your own if you fancy the challenge. Chef's tip: simmer the broth, never boil it; a hard boil turns it cloudy and the clear, golden look is the whole point.
