This time of the year, my mother and grandmother traveled "downtown" to Marshall Street in Philadelphia. The Street was small and lined with stores and push carts that sold everything from food to clothing. Their mission was to find horse radish roots which they ground, added beet juice and sugar and served with the New Year meal.
All this came to mind as I sorted through an old file and came across a brochure describing the International Horse Radish Festival held in Collinsville, Illinois. The brochure said the Festival attracted people "from around the Midwest and the country to eat this perilous herb." An exaggeration? I don't think so. Had a jet been available, I know my mother and grandmother would have headed to Collinsville in their search.
I don't know how they could tell one radish from another or which would produced the hottest sauce. But their horse radish reduced strong men to tears and cleared every one's sinuses.
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