In the Name of Radicchio
fiore d’inverno or the ‘winter flower’
In keeping with the seasonal musings of last week’s newsletter, I’m sharing my first star ingredient of the year: the radicchio.
Hailing from the Veneto region of northern Italy, this vibrant, bitter leaf – derived from the wild chicory family – has become a bit of a winter staple in my kitchen. Endlessly exciting not only in its potential uses, but also in its different shapes and sizes, the radicchio (in typically Italian territorial fashion) takes after the various places from which it originates. From the rounded Radicchio di Chioggia, with its rich, maroon-coloured leaves, to the flecked, buttery yellow Castelfranco, to the pale pink, almost tulip-like Rosa del Veneto, each variant bears the title of its namesake town. My favourite is the Treviso Tardivo. Similarly to forced rhubarb, this chicory spends the latter part of its life maturing in the dark, tied in bundles, forced and blanched in water to produce the distinctive white ribs and purple tops. The result is a slighter milder, bitter-sweet flavour, and a magnificent squid-like appearance.
As a child, radicchio elicited the same nose-wrinkling response as coffee, beer and grapefruit – to be avoided at all costs in the bag of mixed salad. But over the years, as taste buds have evolved, it has come to take centre stage in my cooking. First it crept into my salad repertoire in various fruit-nut iterations (pear & walnut, orange & hazelnut etc. etc.), and became such a recurring winter theme that my old housemate coined it ‘Sophia’s salad’. Then, I discovered the beauty of adding heat. Whack it on the grill with some oil and salt and the lingering bitterness mellows out to a nuttier, less punchy flavour. It’s the perfect vehicle for anything creamy – white beans, mozzarella, ricotta, or starches like winter squash or potato. And not to forget the aesthetics: now, I will even happily let it usurp the trusty £1 Sainsbury’s daffodils on the kitchen table.
If this is making absolutely no sense (likely), and you think I may have lost the plot, take a look at the talented florist Frida Kim’s recent Radicchio, not Roses campaign with Natoora. Genius.
In other exciting news, I have started a supper club! (The inevitable destiny of someone with an insatiable desire to cook but not the means to endlessly do so). I turned my patient boyfriend’s living room upside down, threw together a couple of trestle tables and cooked a four-course dinner for fourteen brave friends. The idea was to serve everything on my handmade plates and bowls, and if anything took anyone’s fancy, they could take it home with them. I loved every minute.
Here are some pics to whet your appetite and hopefully inspire you to join the next one! (I will make sure to give advance warning here on ticket releases, so keep your eyes peeled 👀)
A huge, huge thank you to my talented friend Lily, who created the floral magic on the the table, to Jack for organising the music, and to Tintin and Katherine for putting up with my kitchen madness once again.
If this evening looks up your street, there’ll be even more on my Instagram soooooon.
And here, finally, is a recipe. Tried by fourteen happy guinea pigs as a starter last night:
Burrata, Griddled Radicchio and Blood Orange Salad
serves 2 as a starter or side
for the salad
1 head of radicchio (I used di chioggia)
3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 tbsp balsamic vinegar (I used fig balsamic)
1 pinch of salt
1 blood orange (or normal orange if unavailable)
1 burrata, drained
parsley, coarsely chopped (optional)
for the pangrattato
3 slices of stale sourdough
1 garlic clove, crushed
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tablespoon dried rosemary
1 pinch of salt
Start by making your pangrattato. This will yield more than you need, but it’s the kind of thing you want lots of, and can sprinkle on pretty much everything… Blitz the stale bread in a blender until you have coarse breadcrumbs. Stir through the dried rosemary and salt.
In a sauté pan, gently fry the garlic in the oil until fragrant, then add the breadcrumbs. Fry until golden brown, stirring frequently.
Preheat the oven on grill setting to 180 degrees C. Slice the radicchio down the middle, making sure to cut through the thick white stem at the base, as this holds the individual leaves together. Cut each half into smaller wedges, again making sure to keep the central stem intact. You should be able to get 8-10 wedges from the radicchio. Lay out in a single layer on a baking tray, drizzle with half the oil and balsamic and season with salt. Grill for 5-10 minutes, checking regularly. You want them wilted and browned but not charred to a crisp! Allow to cool for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, cut away the skin and pith of the orange, then slice into individual segments.
Assemble all your salad ingredients on a platter, first arranging the radicchio slices, followed by the orange, and topping with the burrata. Dress with the remaining oil and balsamic and garnish with the parsley, pangrattato and a little extra salt.
I recommend serving with focaccia or another suitable vehicle to do some mopping up.
Thank you so much for reading! If you liked the recipe (or the ramblings) I’d love to hear your feedback 💛 and please do share the love using the link below.