The family is so well dispersed that it is not clear where it originated, but its culinary significance is greatest around the Mediterranean. Dandelion leaves are still cultivated or collected from the wild to be cooked as a common green in Greece and Spain. The Italians are obsessive about radicchio and grow many different forms, each named after the area of its origin and supposedly essential for a particular regional dish. Further north, the Belgians have adopted the forced chicons of Witloof chicory, which is normally served wrapped in ham and smothered in a cheesy béchamel sauce. The French crown each head of endive with an opaque cap to produce the blanched heads of crisp, frilly leaves so popular in their salads.
Their difference from the weakly rooting lettuce family is obvious if you dig the plant up – all the family, and chicory in particular, have a strong, substantial tap root. This is the root that is roasted as a substitute or adulterant of coffee and is used in herbal medicine as a tonic, laxative and diuretic. The family is also slower growing, but more frost tolerant, than lettuce and thrives in the autumn under the conditions of lower light intensity, when lettuces lose their flavour and their will to live. In our mild Devon climate, it is possible to harvest a supply of leaves, particularly escarole, from a garden right through the winter.
Radicchio
Dark red leaves with white mid ribs and veins. In Italy there are many different varieties but in the UK we normally see the cannon-ball-shaped chioggia type with its tightly packed leaves, probably because it will keep for weeks in a chef’s fridge. At Riverford we also grow the more upright and open form known as Treviso, which resembles a small purple or crimson Cos lettuce. Small amounts of radicchio bring another dimension of colour and flavour to salads, though in the UK, with our monochrome national palate, I suspect most is left on the side of the plate. It can also be grilled or, in one of my favourite recipes from Antonio Carluccio, used to make a wonderful risotto combining the bitterness of the leaves with the sweet richness of sausage meat.
Curly endive
Crunchy, highly indented green leaves that tend towards a white heart. The French eat huge quantities of curly endive and will often cover the heads with a cap in the field to blanch them. I’m afraid I think life is too short, so only the centre of ours will be blanched. Endive is less bitter than radicchio, especially in the heart. It is quite difficult to grow without some dead leaves, so expect to have to pick it over a little, and spare a thought for the grower before being too indignant over imperfections. The really fine-leaved varieties are particularly hard to grow to a high standard, though they are undoubtedly better to eat if you can manage it.
Escarole
Large, lettuce-like heads of smooth, slightly crunchy, bright green leaves. The central leaves tend to be paler, with more crunch and less bitterness, becoming less palatable (some of our customers have said leathery) as you progress to the outer leaves. Escarole is the least bitter of the family, being mild enough to eat on its own. Very frost hardy, and sometimes used to bulk out the cheaper salad bags sold by supermarkets.
Chicory and chicons
Chicory is grown in the field for its roots, which are harvested, packed in sand and sprouted during the winter in sheds lit only by a candle. The resulting, tightly packed, pale green chicons can be eaten raw in a mixed salad, often with boiled egg, or cooked. Confusingly, these chicons are also sometimes referred to as endives.
Storage and preparation
Don’t be put off by your first taste. Bitter leaves are always milder by the time they are dressed and reach the salad bowl, and if you cook them they are completely transformed. In a nation that measures quality largely in terms of sweetness, it is a challenge to persuade people of the virtues of bitter leaves, especially when the first taste typically produces a wince and a pucker, but judiciously combined with complementary ingredients, they have great potential. When serving bitter leaves in a green salad, soften their impact by combining them with blander leaves and accompanying with a sweet dressing. Try mixing with dried fruit (cranberries are my favourite) or fresh fruit (mango, peach, grapes, pears all go well). Blue cheese and cubes or slices of roasted squash can also be good in a salad. It is normally best to dress the salad before scattering the fruit or cheese on top.
All the bitter greens have a good shelf life and should keep in the fridge as whole heads for at least a week and often two without significant deterioration. Radicchio and curly endive both have a tendency to die back from the tips if they suffer any stress in the field, requiring a fair amount of picking over at the sink.
Radicchio doesn’t appear in the boxes more than a couple of times a year but if you do get it, try grilling it and serving with grilled fish or some creamy buffalo mozzarella.
Serves 2
1 head of radicchio
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
1 garlic clove, crushed
1 tablespoon chopped marjoram
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Remove the outer leaves of the radicchio, halve it and then slice it into wedges about 1.5cm thick, keeping the leaves joined at the core in each wedge.
Whisk together all the remaining ingredients in a shallow bowl to make a dressing. Heat a ridged grill pan (or a barbecue), then grill the radicchio wedges until brown on both sides. As you remove the wedges from the griddle, place them straight in the dressing and mix well.
Traditionally this hearty salad is made with curly endive but there is no reason why you shouldn’t use mixed salad leaves or baby spinach.
Serves 4
1/2 ciabatta loaf (or baguette), cut into 1.5cm cubes
2 tablespoons olive oil
250g streaky bacon, cut into lardons (matchsticks)
1 head of curly endive
4 eggs
1 tablespoon chopped chives
For the vinaigrette:
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon sugar
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Mix the bread cubes with the olive oil, spread them out on a baking tray and bake in an oven preheated to 200°C/Gas Mark 6 for 10 minutes, until crisp and slightly browned.
Fry