Bitter leaves make me salivate, and none more so than the deep dark red variety. This has not always been the case, in fact it seems to be a fairly recent addiction, one borne of ageing (somewhat) gracefully, as though my taste buds have, at last, reached maturity.
Bitter isn't easy. Bitter requires input, but then, why should things always be simple? The inclination toward habitually-sweet should be kicked out of every last one of us beyond the age of thirty, and the ability to balance flavours on a plate signals a fine cook at work. Spears of pale green witlof (endive, chicory) in a salad with mild blue cheese and brown-sugar roasted walnuts get you started, coaxing harshness to sweetness, a classic combination.
I dismissed The Vegetarian Option by Simon Hopkinson initially, thrown by the inclusion, second recipe in, of a chicken stock (says she who any quick perusal of her archive will reveal a beast of the very same ilk...). But, like the bitter I've grown to desire, his is sophisticated food, flesh-free, for the grown-ups. The crescendo of bitter must surely be the exquisite Wilted radicchio with green sauce on page 120, a dish tamed not by dairy (too easy), but by a herbal, mustard- and caper-based dressing, and served with very thin slices of hard-boiled egg, cut with the utmost of care, alongside. Elegant eating for two.
Seek the book out and give it some time; the worthwhile things in this life are rarely - if indeed ever - easy.
I seem to have roller-skates on at the moment...whizzing past... cant even pause to read your beautiful text Lucy...
but I can take in the imagery in a dash and it stays with me long after..the effect of your work on me!
Heaven...deep breathe..thank you!
S
Posted by: sophie munns | June 29, 2010 at 09:44 PM
"flesh-free, for the grown-ups"
Yes, indeed - I know just what you mean.
Love that last photo - those leaves become feathers in a most elegant way.
Posted by: chelsea | June 29, 2010 at 10:26 PM
I agree that bitterness comes with age (I mean food not emotion - honestly) but I am still slow to appreciate it - though I have had a few good experiences of late to convince me of the possibilities - pear witloaf and blue cheese was a revelation.
And I too will find that a bit of meat in a vegetarian cookbook rocks the trust that is so important - good to find it is sometimes good to overlook such inconsistency
Posted by: Johanna | June 30, 2010 at 12:41 PM
I had a very bitter experience with radicchio during one family Christmas dinner about 15 years ago. I don’t think my palate was mature enough to appreciate it -- but since then I’ve come to enjoy more complex, challenging flavours. My favourite mesclun blend is ‘Paris Market Mix’ which has chervil, arugula, chicory and endive escarole to add a kick to the baby greens.
Your post made me look for some radicchio, endive & chicory varieties seeds to sow in mid-July. (I found them on this site: http://www.westcoastseeds.com/product/vegetable-seeds/Endive-and-Radicchio/ .
After reading your description of Wilted radicchio with green sauce I must try to make this with some home-grown 'Palla Rossa Special'
Beautiful art in this post, Lucy. I love seeking your blog out and giving it the time it deserves; for me, this is a worthwhile activity that is oh so easy (one of the few).
Well, I'm now going to try to craft my own blog post about kale. So I'll re-read yours another one or two times to inspire me.
Posted by: Elaine | July 03, 2010 at 04:28 AM
my favourite bitter green, which i cannot seem to get enough of is broccoli rabe...i love it braised and chopped and made into bruschetta with garlic and olive oil and some red chile...
your writing is so wonderful...just went to see the ansel adams/ed burtynsky show today...talk about a revelation of beauty and bitterness!
Posted by: ali | July 03, 2010 at 08:08 AM
Beautiful stuff! Have just tried a wonderful salad - http://gourmettraveller.com.au/warm_radicchio_kipfler_pancetta__and_cacciotta_salad.htm using Jules' tip of replacing pancetta with smoked tofu (thanks stonesoup!)
...lovely...
Posted by: de | July 06, 2010 at 10:08 AM
Hello, and thank you for your comments, guys. Deeply appreciated, and said without a trace of bitterness...insert groan...
Elaine: What a great link! I'm dreaming of all the things we can plant next season now - isn't that always the way? The idea of chervil in that Paris mix has me intrigued. Are you loving your chervil?
Ali: I saw that show advertised somewhere recently. Adams I know well (g'ah...a genius), but not Burtynsky so, once again, I'm off to investigate. Thank you, friend. I learn so much from you. ALL the time. X
Hi de, and welcome. Ah, smoked tofu. Brilliant stuff and yes, isn't our Jules gorgeous? Thank you!
Posted by: Lucy | July 06, 2010 at 03:38 PM
I appreciate your moody, thoughtful and autumn-coloured pictures. Hit a spot! Thank you for your interesting and provocative writing, too.
Bittergourd is my friend, with its light green furrows and rounded ridges. I use it in soups and stir-fries.
(Pssst, 'been' has been left out in your second sentence.)
Posted by: Jen N | September 22, 2010 at 06:10 PM
Hi Jen, and thanks. Correction made.
I never know what to do with bittergourd; it always seems a tad intimidating...may just attempt an experiment next season!
Posted by: Lucy | September 22, 2010 at 09:09 PM