I have fond memories of Kohlorabi. My dutch grandpa always grew it in his garden and we would sit at the picnic table and he would peel one and slice it for us to share - a slice for him, a slice for me, a slice for him , a slice for me, ... I always loved to garden, so I would bike over and help him in his garden - usually just weeding, lol. His garden soil was muck that he had scraped out of the swampy ditch - but it was black, full of humus, very fertile and smelled like dead fish. His garden always produced beautiful veggies.