Marriage teaches one things. Amongst the things it has taught me is that my husband loves to annihilate his mouth, sinuses, and GI tract with spiciness. When servers in restaurants ask him what level of heat he’d like for his food, he often responds, “Really, really hot. I want it to hurt a little.” He frequently has to assure them that he will not send it back. No, really. Yes, he wants it that hot. Yes, he knows he can’t ask the kitchen to re-make it if it burns his face off.
He likes all kinds of spiciness, and does not discriminate. He loves the pervasive and inescapable burn found in a hot-hot Indian curry. He loves the chest-warming sensation one gets from a warm, ginger-y drink in the Winter. He loves the Hephaestian, unguent layer of Szechuan pepper oil that glides atop a bubbling restaurant hot pot. He loves the third eye-opening, ethereal burn that infiltrates his face after biting a massive blob of Wasabi off of a piece of sushi. And – most relevant to this post – he loves spicy, astringent horseradish.
It should be noted, however, that most of the world’s consumers don’t share my husband’s fervor for overtly masochistic food experiences. So, after trying virtually every brand of prepared horseradish we could find, he declared his deep disappointment that they were all (and I quote) “lame.”
We wondered if fresh Horseradish might be much hotter, and hypothesized that we could grate it straight onto his food for maximum culinary punishment. I looked into it and discovered that Horseradish is actually quite easy to grow, and can, in fact, even become invasive in some climates. As an experiment, I potted an organic nub I bought at Whole Foods, and let it grow for almost two years. (Click for Horseradish history, planting tips, and harvesting: https://ravenandroot.com/armoracia-rusticana-a-root-for-all-seasons/ )
I harvested the entire root on May 22nd, 2019, after nearly two years’ growth. In this photo, you can see the entire root ball immediately after being tipped from its pot, with some of the soil cleaned away.
After removing the root from its pot or bed, be sure to snap off any remaining leaves or stalks from the crown. It will probably contain more soil than it appears, so be sure to thoroughly remove all dirt, and spray it well with a garden hose. Once the root is debulked of its soil, take it inside for a nice, luxurious bath. Here’s mine in the kitchen sink:
To clean the root, I snapped off one tentacle at a time, swished it around, and removed all the tiny root filaments that spring out from each section. The Horseradish has a thin, delicate skin, which can – and should – be removed before the next step.
I found that almost all the residual dirt went with this skin, and very little additional scrubbing was required. To do this, I found it easiest to simply use my thumbnail, running it vertically down the root, taking the skin and little hair-like shoots with it. This could also be done carefully with a small paring knife, or with a peeler (which I used for the large tentacles).
Once the segments of root have been liberated of their skin, wash with clean water, and scrub off any remaining residue to your level of preference. Finally, chop off the fibrous crown (the main point from which the stalks and leaves emerged while growing). You’ll then be left with a little mound of lovely, creamy root sections, and ready for the next steps.
Once you have nice, scoured root sections, start to carefully chop them up with a sharp knife. My Horseradish was just slightly firmer and drier than a large carrot, so I took care to chop slowly and deliberately. At this point, your working area will likely be fragrant with the earthy, pungent scent of the root. It won’t become noxious or overpowering until it is blended. Once you’ve cut up the Horseradish into relatively small pieces, shuffle them into a food processor or sturdy, high-powered blender.
If you do not have either of these, the root can be grated, but take care to cover your mouth and nose during the process, and be sure to work in a well-ventilated area. If you choose to grate the root, omit the chopping step, as you will need to leave the roots whole so that you can maintain a grip on them as you go.
Now it’s time to start breaking down the Horseradish root. Start blending slowly, stopping occasionally to scrape down the sides so that it is evenly pulverized. The root’s hot and spicy flavor are the result of molecules called glycosides (including sinigrin, gluconasturtiin, glucobrassicin, and neoglucobrassicin), and its volatile oils and sulfur-containing compounds are released when Horseradish is grated, blended, smashed, or ground. That’s why this is the TIME FOR CAUTION. If and/or when you remove the lid of your blender or food processor, do not go immediately and intuitively in for a large huff of root vapors. You will set your face aflame with spicy fumes.
As you can see, the root is not quite evenly broken down yet. My blender has a built-in scraper that inserts through the lid, so it was not necessary to open the lid for redistribution. I did it anyway, thinking all the warnings I saw online were overstatements of the radish’s robust miasma. I was wrong. I took a huge snootful of fumes when I went in for an aggressive smell, and it felt a little like someone had thrown pepper juice into my face. Thankfully the discomfort subsided within a few minutes, and Horseradish and I learned a couple things about each other in the process.
Once you’ve pulverized the root to your preference, let it sit in the blender for anywhere from zero to 30 minutes. By letting the pulverized root sit, one can control the development of its heat, which will determine the spiciness of the final product. The longer it sits, the spicier it gets, until it is finally quenched in a bath of vinegar to stop the reaction.
From the Horseradish Council: “The “hotness” from horseradish comes from isothiocyanate, a volatile compound that, when oxidized by air and saliva, generates the “heat” that some people claim clears out their sinuses.
The bite and aroma of the horseradish root are almost absent until it is grated or ground. During this process, as the root cells are crushed, isothiocyanates are released. Vinegar stops this reaction and stabilizes the flavor. For milder horseradish, vinegar is added immediately.”
It appears that there are many opinions on the amount of time one should let the Horseradish sit at this stage. Some sources say that by three minutes, the root has developed as much heat as it ever will. Some say that letting it sit for thirty minutes is the way to get it really fiery. We opted for about 15 minutes, and had great results.
What started as a root ball weighing approximately 2 pounds ended up as almost exactly two cups of blended Horseradish. To this, and while still in the blender, we added about one cup of Bragg’s Apple Cider Vinegar (to quench the reaction), about 3/4 Tablespoon of sugar, about 1/2 Cup Vegenaise, and salt to taste. We then gave it one last short blend to incorporate everything, and ensured an adequate level of saltiness.
The last step was to decant the newly-extant creamed Horseradish sauce into a Ball jar and refrigerate.
Horseradish sauce will keep in the refrigerator for months, but will lose potency over time. So, you may want to harvest in smaller batches, without completely removing the plant and only taking sections of root as needed. However, we’ll probably eat this jar full of sauce within a month to six weeks, so I think we needn’t fear Horseradish entropy.
And finally, we arrive at the eating of the thing, nearly two years hence. Anxious to devour our experiment and creation, we hastily grilled some bread and vegan sausages, and coated each side with a heavy layer of sauce. It was delicious. It was very spicy, smooth, sweet, creamy, and salty. It lovingly irradiated our sinuses and made our noses run with joy.
This Horseradish sauce can be enjoyed on sausages, fish, shellfish, cooked vegetables, potatoes, and sandwiches. I’m thinking about making some hummus with it. Growing Horseradish to use for homemade sauce was a wonderfully successful, inexpensive, easy, and delicious experiment; one we are already replicating for next year’s harvest. I hope you give this little root a chance in your own garden, and I wish you happy and spicy growing!