Sprouting Daikon Top Means Edible Greens

The little sprouting daikon top: a portrait.

I remember visiting my good friend Junko one day and noticing a shallow bowl filled with water and three kabu tops sitting there. The leaves of the kabu were still attached and a vibrant green. "They're easy to keep like this," she said and went on to explain that they would get new leaves, too. 

It seemed like a great idea, but I didn't really think much about it for some time. We usually eat all of our vegetables - tops, leaves, etc. - so it wasn't until recently I remembered her idea and gave it a shot.

The container with the tomatoes and the daikon in the back left corner.

I'd bought a lovely red daikon at the UNU a.k.a. Aoyama Farmers Market from Mercato back in April. We'd eaten most of it, but the top still had a few tiny leaves. I found a shallow bowl and plopped it in. Soon, new leaves were sprouting. It wasn't too exciting, so I left it be. (That really means I simply forgot about it.) My husband moved it to a small flower pot on our patio, and there it stayed until about two weeks ago. When it rained and when I remembered, I gave it water. Miraculously, it lived. When I picked it up, I noticed roots coming out the bottom. My next thought was...

...why not?

I planted it in a back corner of a planter with two cherry tomatoes and some random green seeds.

The other day when I went to stake the tomatoes and arrange a net for a green curtain, I was sure there must have been more seeds spread about on the soil than I thought. Then I realized my error.

The base of the original daikon happily growing.

Those leaves belonged to that little daikon top!

Lush and green, the little guy is holding its own in that back corner. Where we go from here, I don't know, but I'll be enjoying them in our house salads for some time, I think. It also seems to want to throw up bloom or two, which will mean seeds. I'll be collecting those, of course. Such enthusiasm should be honored.