Radicchio Monday
and Salad Jean Claude
My head is a whirl of endless thinking, most of it about things I need to put on a list so I don’t forget them and then I promptly forget to write the list. Instead that thing, the thing along with all the other things, carries on its circuit inside my head, but in the mist now, just a little misty worry mistily circling and circling in my brain, along with its companions, the other misty worries.
I used to think I was brilliant multi tasker. I still do actually, secretly. But more often than not I am multi tasking because I simply have to do a Thing before I forget it, having learned earlier that keeping it in my head doesn’t work, and that the list will never actually get written. So on my way to get the hoover, for example, I see a bag of flour and remember I am meant to be making bread. I get the flour and and get a bowl and put the flour in the bowl. Then I look for the yeast, and then I remember I need to get more yeast for my next workshop, or do I? And so it goes.
I expect you think I am going to go into a rant about the menopause now, because that’s what all women of a certain age are doing these days. Shouting about this thing that happens to them where they forget things all the time, which they weren’t allowed to mention before because it doesn’t happen to men therefore not important, where their bodies start to change dramatically - puberty in reverse, except instead of returning to baby soft, skin instead withers, cracks and develops crepey pockets. Well, I’m not going to rant about that. I am past the menopause, long gone, although its effects remain, it is true. Also, how old exactly is a woman ‘of a certain age’? Maybe I am past that age and now in to the territory of women who are past it, done, dusty and over.
Perhaps this is not a rant after all, let’s wait and see. The thing is the more I talk to people, and when I say people I mean women, the more I realise that we pretty much all get along like this. There are of course some super organised people whose lives run along well oiled tracks and of whom I am, naturally, in awe. But most seem a bit like me, just holding it together enough to appear sane and functioning while, like the proverbial ducks, paddling like crazy below the surface with their little webbed feet, wondering where the bloody yeast is.
I can achieve remarkably little in a day unless it is a day that is structured by work, a task list that I have actually managed to write (the JOY of ticking things off is unparalleled) or a project that absolutely requires my attention in a given moment, especially when accompanied by an audio book. One such project, which I have not started (quel surprise), is the painting of the stairs and landing, including skirtings and doors, in a deep and uncompromising red. I was going to keep it all quite mellow - the walls are a dusty pink, very badly painted, or painted to look as though they are badly painted, the shabby chic* distraction tactic. I really hate that expression* and apologise for using it. Anyway, I’m going bold because the paint was on sale and when you have 10 litres of uncompromising red paint you have to find somewhere to use it.
The red is not dissimilar to the deep red pink of radicchio, which segue brings me deliciously neatly to this recipe. Or cooking guidelines really.
I love radicchio. I first came across it when working at the River Café when one of my tasks would be grilling it. I never quite got the the grilling thing in those days, but now I am a proper grown up I do - a squeeze of lemon juice and some peppery olive oil it’s a kind of weird, charred, bitter heaven.
Finding this gorgeous leaf out here in Welsh Wales seems to be tricky. I see it appear on instagram feeds and get deep envy feelings washing through me, especially when the the rose pink version makes an appearance, looking for all it’s worth like a massive blousey peony.
To my utter joy Glebelands, our local market garden, has been growing it lately. This looks more like regular red chicory (also quite hard to come by here), but isn’t - it’s radicchio rosso di Treviso. Of course they are also growing squashes by the barrow load too this time of year and mixing these two colours in one dish makes for eye popping happiness. I was inspired, as ever, by a recipe Rosie Sykes has on her instagram reels as well (I can also highly recommend getting involved with her Friday Biscuit).
This is a bit more involved than most dinners I might attempt on a Monday, but what the hell, it fed three with some left over from my NHS hero husband’s lunch. This will feed 3 easily, but the quantities really are guidelines - you can add or subtract as you like, include other vegetables, or even some cooked chicken if you feel inclined. I had a large mushroom so added that. We ate it with massive potato wedges done in the air fryer.
Salad Jean Claude
1 small squash (this is a Hokkaido but you can use any you like), peeled and cut into wedges
1 red onion, peeled and cut into wedges
8 or so leaves of radicchio, or a whole round one if using that variety, cut widthways into fat ribbons
3-4 garlic cloves
1 bunch cavalo nero or curly kale, de-stalked and cut into fat ribbons
1 big handful parsley, picked and roughly chopped
100g spelt grain (or whatever your favourite grain is - brown rice would work well - it needs to have a nuttiness), soaked for about an hour before cooking
1 handful of toasted hazel nuts or walnuts (optional)
some crumbled feta (optional)
Roast the squash, onion and garlic cloves (in its jackets) until soft and just getting dark at the edges.
Remove from the oven and when cool enough pop garlic out of jackets and chop roughly to mix with the other veg.
Meanwhile cook the spelt according to packet instructions and put to one side.
Steam the cavalo or kale until soft but not mushy and put to one side. (OR you could add it to the roasting veg about half way through which would save on washing up - don’t know why I didn’t do that)
Dressing - you can use a classic vinaigrette with this but it lends itself beautifully to the sweet salty taste of this Asian inspired dressing. It’s in cup measurements because I have copied from All Recipes. I always forget the ratios so go back to this American site for it, and I can’t do the maths today.
⅜ cup olive oil
¼ cup soy sauce
⅙ cup rice vinegar
⅛ cup water
1 ½ tablespoons honey
1 ½ cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger root (I use a garlic press for this sometimes - works wonders but you need a hefty crusher)
Put all the dressing ingredients in a jar with a secure lid and shake it until blended.
Put all the other ingredients in a big bowl, pour on as much dressing as you like and mix well. Tip on to a serving platter or dish and serve, either sprinkling with the nuts and cheese or having them on the side.
I know you are now wondering why on earth this Italian Asian Welsh salad is called Jean Claude. Russell asked me what it was called as he was eating and I said I don’t know, what do you think to should be called? So Salad Jean Claude was born.
Liz. Can't wait to make that it sounds so good and I adore the bitterness of radiicchio. Thank you x