Endive

A poached egg is easily cooked, incredibly nutritious, economical, and easily served at any meal. Poached eggs perched on a buttered toasted slice of tender bread is a perfect breakfast; a shimmering bowl of chicken broth served with an egg poached in it is a nourishing lunch that can generate a warm sense of well-being; and curly endive tossed in a warm vinaigrette with bacon and topped with a poached egg is a favorite dinner salad of mine—the egg enriching the vinaigrette as it coats the leaves. A poached egg is cracked from its shell and cooked in water, stock, or, sometimes, wine until the white has just solidified and the yolk has heated through. The poaching liquid should be very hot, but without any bubbles breaking the surface. This gentle still heat keeps the white tender and helps the egg keep its shape while cooking. Fresh eggs are best. A fresh egg cracked onto a plate has a thick, jellylike white that clings to the deep orange yolk, which stands up plump and high. As eggs age, their flavor dissipates and their whites thin out to the point of being watery at the edges, making it difficult to poach one with any success. Use a heavy pan for even heat dispersal, which helps keep the eggs from sticking to the bottom. If a heavy pan is not available, use a flame tamer. A relatively shallow pan will make it easier to remove the eggs from the hot water. I use a low-sided saucepan. Fill the pan with water 2 to 3 inches deep, add a large splash of vinegar, and put the pan over a medium fire. The vinegar speeds the coagulation of the whites, keeping them from billowing out into the water. Use good-tasting vinegar, as you will be able to taste it slightly. I add about 1 tablespoon to 4 cups of water, but if you particularly like the flavor of vinegar on your eggs (and it is delicious), add more. When poaching eggs in soup or broth don’t use the vinegar. Carefully, without breaking the yolks, crack the eggs into individual cups or small bowls. This way you can easily remove any fragments of eggshell and it will be easier to slip each egg gently into the water; and if you do break a yolk, you can set it aside for another use. When the water is very hot, but not bubbling, hold the cup right at the level of the water and carefully slide the egg in. This gentle entry into the water will help the egg keep its shape. After a minute you can gently stir the water a while to discourage the eggs from sticking to the bottom of the pan. Use care, though; the eggs are very delicate until the whites are set. Lower the heat if the water begins to simmer. The cooking time will vary depending on the number of eggs, their size, and the temperature they were when they went into the water. On average, a single large egg straight from the refrigerator will take about 3 minutes to cook. The white will be set but the yolk will still be soft; for a firmer yolk allow up to 5 minutes. Test for doneness by gently lifting the egg with a slotted spoon and pressing it gently with your finger to feel how set the white and yolk are. Carefully remove the cooked eggs and drain for a moment on a towel, blotting the top very gently to dry. When cooking for a crowd, freshly poached eggs can be kept for a few minutes in a bowl of warm water or stock while another batch is being cooked.

Grown indoors in the dark, endives are among the perfect winter vegetables, usually used in salads but also lovely when cooked. This simple gratin benefits from good, dark stock, but the addition of Parmigiano-Reggiano will cover you if you resort to canned stock.

This is an excellent side dish, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with salt, the base of an elegant salad—combine it with Gorgonzola and walnuts, for example—or a fine topping for Grilled Polenta (page 530) or Crostini (page 41). Other vegetables to prepare this way: split Belgian endives (use four), or even small heads of romaine lettuce.

Endives have a couple of things going for them: they’re grown inside (mostly in the dark, so they stay white), so they’re fresh all year round; they have great form and nice crunchy texture; they are unusually bitter, but in a pleasant way. Cooked—especially with good stock—they are elegant and delicious. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: leeks (split and washed), romaine lettuce (quartered, the long way), or any root vegetable—especially carrots.

Do not skimp on the olive oil here; its flavor is integral. Really, this is escarole braised in olive oil, an extremely useful and wide-ranging technique. You can omit the anchovies if you like or add pine nuts (about 1/4 cup), raisins (1/4 cup), pitted black or green olives (about 1/2 cup), or about 1/2 cup chopped tomato. You can also use wine or stock in place of the water, for a richer taste. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: this is a classic and basic recipe that can be used for almost any green or in fact for “harder” vegetables like cauliflower or broccoli, following exactly the same procedure. Cooking time will vary.

The harmony of this salad is that both the radicchio and the endive are from the chicory family, sweet and slightly bitter at the same time.

This lovely salad can slide from late winter into early spring when bouquets of radishes proliferate in the market. Some people find endive too harsh, but here the flavor is mellowed a bit and the leaves are given extra snap by a saltwater soak. This is a study in textures, with the silky endive accented by the crunch of the nuts, all lightly bound with a tart but delicate Meyer lemon dressing. Because of the egg yolk, the vinaigrette won’t last for more than two days in the fridge, but you’ll find lots of uses for any leftover dressing. Try tossing it with boiled Piccolo potatoes or use it on your favorite greens.

Large, with a firm, sweet flesh, Fujis are good for snacking, cooking, and mixing into salads like this one. Unlike many other apples, their taste actually improves with age.

This summer salad has it all—crunchy, peppery greens; soft, smooth cheese; and sweet, smoky, slightly caramelized peaches hot off the grill.

This is a sophisticated take on an American classic, the Waldorf salad. Tart crisp apples, piquant blue cheese, and rich, crunchy walnuts combine to create a salad with layers of flavor and texture. Slightly sweet, deliciously tangy pomegranate molasses is the key ingredient in the vinaigrette, binding all of the elements in place of the traditional mayonnaise-based dressing. Tender baby spinach and crisp endive amp up the fresh factor of this hearty salad.

Endive is a slightly bitter lettuce, but bitter isn’t necessarily bad; just consider it a vegetable for grown-ups. Our palate senses sour, salty, bitter, sweet, and umami (for more on umami, see page 239). When these flavors come together in balance, we perceive a dish to be delicious. Most Americans think of lettuce as a vegetable to be eaten raw. Europeans, however, prepare lettuce soups, as well as sauteed and braised lettuce. Step out of the box (or the salad bowl) and give this French version a try.

We sometimes vacation at Jekyll and St. Simons Islands, part of a region that Georgians call the “Golden Isles” or “Gold Coast.” For many years, it was the vacation retreat of very wealthy families from the Northeast. But it was another sort of gold that inspired the name: according to a local historian, it was named centuries ago by the first settlers, who were dazzled by the golden glow of the marshes at dusk. These marshes, the clear estuaries, and the surrounding waters are also home to sweet wild Atlantic shrimp. With the endive leaves arranged in concentric circles on a platter, this is an especially attractive addition to the buffet table.

Endive is an overlooked vegetable in America—at least, few people cook it. But it makes a very special lunch or supper dish when done this way.

Chicory flowers are Aequinotales, meaning the flowers open and close at the same time just like clockwork. Here, that is from around six in the morning until the sun is high at noon. About the same time these blossoms are awakening, chicory roots blended with coffee are percolating across Louisiana. They make a fine combination. This dressing has the faintest sweetness of Louisiana molasses that works with the coffee to balance the bitter bite of the salad greens.