Kohlrabi used to be one of those vegetables I feared when I picked up my weekly CSA share. Now it’s the one I search for in the swap box. It resembles a Sputnik satellite, but dates back to 17th century Europe, where it got its German name for cabbage (kohl) turnip (rabi). Hailing from the wonderful and prolific brassica family, it is closely related to broccoli and tastes like a juicier version of a broccoli stalk.

The biggest pitfall in growing kohlrabi is picking it too late. This yields a tough, woody thing that is completely unappetizing. But as long as the grower has timed it right, the vegetable is succulent and tender. Even the peel can be eaten. I never knew that until doing a bit of researach for this post. Turns out the leaves are totally edible, too.

Here is my standard kohlrabi recipe: Cut off leaves (cook separately). Cut bulb in half. Place open half down on cutting board, and closely trim off peel with a good knife. Slice bulb in 1/4-inch slices, then turn slices on side and slice again into 1/4-inch matchsticks. Place kohlrabi matchsticks onto serving platter. Drizzle with finest extra virgin olive oil. Sprinkle with sea salt. Then liberally shake Zahtar over the whole thing. (Out of convenience, I buy my Zahtar from Fairway on 74th Street in the Israeli food section, though in certain parts of Brooklyn there are Arabic grocers with fresher and better Zahtar). Zahtar is the key ingredient.

I throw this dish on the table when my guests or children are hungrily awaiting dinner. My kids devour it. Kohlrabi has become one of our favorite appetizers, and always heralds the onset of the CSA season. Pretty soon we won’t see it anymore. Corn and tomatoes and other more recognizable things will come into season. Very rarely do those vegetables end up in the swap box. Unlike the little Sputnik vegetable.