How do you solve a problem like kohlrabi?

Sean Ingle wants you to tell him what to do with kohlrabi.


Would you recognise it?
Photograph: Abel & Cole

When the first kohlrabi of the season arrived unannounced in our organic vegetable box last week, my wife gawped at its Space Hopper belly and leafy Mr Tickle arms, before asking: what exactly is this? I suspect her reaction is not uncommon. After all, you rarely find kohlrabi in British supermarkets. Or restaurants. Or cookery books. It's big in Germany, apparently, but then so is David Hasselhoff.

I'm quite fond of kohlrabi's unusual appearance - how could anyone not have a soft spot for a vegetable that looks like something an eccentric scientist would send to Mars? Most foodies, however, seem to think it should stay there. The reaction of Nigel Slater is typical. "Having tried out a number of ideas for this sputnik-shaped root, I have concluded that I really don't ever want to see one again," he wrote last year. "Perhaps the fact that slugs and bugs avoid it like the plague (which is why it turns up with grim regularity in many organic boxes) should give a clue as to why most people give it the cold shoulder."

So what should you do with it? I own 40-odd cookery books; kohlrabi is mentioned in three of them. And two of those suggest chucking it in a stew, with about 17 other vegetables.

Yesterday, I decided to play it simple. Like potatoes, Kohlrabi has a high water content, so I sliced some kohlrabi chips, shallow fried them in olive oil until golden, before adding salt, pepper and lemon to serve. They tasted surprisingly good. But there's another kohlrabi due in this week's box, and the only other recipe in my repertoire - grated kohlrabi, carrot and beetroot salad, with an orange and mirin dressing - has already had the no-no from the wife.

So I need help. And with the number of vegetable box schemes shooting up by the month, I'm guessing I'm not alone ...