Traverse City Record-Eagle

Sally Ketchum: In The Kitchen

July 27, 2008

In the Kitchen: The truth about chard

BY SALLY KETCHUM

There are many quirks in humankind. Consider how we are tempted to choose what we think people should have as a gift, rather than what we think they would enjoy. That's an urge I often fight around birthday or Christmas. Likewise, the "do-as-I do" and "think-as-I think" is painful when we hear from a good friend that he or she doesn't like what we find dear and precious, and in the case of food -- delicious.

Some friends, mostly female (a couple of husbands tagged along and were talking fishing) were gathered in chairs, hammock, and a sky (swinging) chair, and I turned the subject to our kitchen garden and specifically to Swiss chard. I was surprised that three or four women, all cooks, had never tried chard. In fact, one hadn't heard of chard. Bags in hand, I took the ladies out to our garden, and when we got to the chard beds, I picked bags of it, and offered one to Linda, a woman who truly cooked frugally and grew the family's food, especially all the healthy greens like turnip greens, kale, collards, mustard greens, and so on. "Please, take some and try it," I said to Linda.

"We don't like it!" she snapped, my eyes widening. "We don't like the taste and we put vinegar on it to mask it ... we just don't like it!"

It's selfish, I guess, but I was actually hurt that Linda, a gentle person and friend, was riled and heated in comments about my favorite, lovely, precious vegetable. How can one not like chard? Beautiful, enticing chard, and now in rainbow colors? Magical chard ... watching the half bushel of chard simmering down to a few cups of a spinach look-alike vegetable, only begging for a spoonful of butter, margarine or olive oil spread.

Immediately, I employed D-TIP. Invented by my youngest son who is a client relationship expert, D-TIP is a relationship-saving device to keep friendship and family running smoothly. In awkward or contentious moments, we call the mantra, D-Tip; that is, Don't Take It Personally. A D-tip post-it is on our phone and in many other places at Christmas and family gatherings. Now, having shared that family secret, I return to Swiss chard.

As newscasts verify (or not) political rumors, I put chard through the Veg-a-Truth-a Meter.

Chard is simply a beet, and the stems, leaves, and roots are all edible. True.

Chard actually is Swiss. False. (Don't know how that started. The declaration has holes in it.) Chard is truly Italian, and the Romans have documented eating leaves and roots it as early as when the first Christian church was established.

Experts believe that chard was cultivated in pre-historic times for its leaves. True.

The Italians have the best chard recipes. True (because I think so).

The English are low on the Veg-a-Truth-a-Meter, calling chard, sea-kale beet. False. This is certainly untrue since chard has absolutely nothing to do with the sea or with kale.

The French, who eat chard frequently as a common vegetable, probably eat more than anyone else. True. But they have their own ways: they eat the stems and leaves separately, cooking the stems like asparagus and often using them like celery. They treat chard leaves as we do spinach. Simmer and butter.

Young leaves are great in salads. True.

Plautus, a playwright before Christ, wrote of both white and red beets, but he was a comedian, so we'll put him in the middle, 5 (possibly) on the Veg-a-Truth-a-Meter.

Suzanne Mitten Owen, a dear friend from our salad days, an Indiana University professional, and a very innovative cook, wasn't really into chard. But Owen writes that she had Walleye pike on a bed of Swiss chard with a delicious sauce (probably a buttery one) in a new Bloomington restaurant and just loved it. Yet, later she tried a Martha Stewart recipe that had garlic and onion in the chard, and, in her professional opinion, it tasted like "fried mud." Oh!

Chard appears in many recipes, look for them. I condense a very favorite one, a chard torta, below. But, mainly, I simmer chard in a little water until tender, 5-10 minutes, depending on your preference and the amount of chard. Again, it cooks down. Pack the saucepan with the leaves.

Last summer, I found a houseguest up in the middle of the night, eating a room temperature slice of the torta with her fingers. I joined her, the recipe is that good, and that's the truth.

Sally Ketchum grows chard annually in her kitchen garden. This year, along with the old standards like Lucullus and Fordhook, she is trying a delicious new one, "Foam," and a baby chard, "Baresse." Ketchum can be reached at ketchum1985@gmail.com.

Swiss chard and Feta Torta

Pastry for 1 pie

Filling:

8 large Swiss chard leaves, stems removed, thinly sliced

Salt, preferably kosher

2 T. olive oil (perhaps less, to taste)

1 leek, white part only, washed and thinly sliced

1 yellow medium onion, chopped

1 all-purpose potato, boiled

2 T. chopped Italian parsley

1 c. crumbled feta cheese

1/3 c. Fontina cheese

Salt and pepper to taste

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

3 T. extra virgin olive oil (or less)

2 T. freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

1. Place the Swiss chard in a colander, sprinkle with 11/2 t. salt, and set the colander over a bowl or in the sink for 30 minutes. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

2. In a small saucepan, heat the 2 T. olive oil over medium heat. Add the leek and onion and cook, stirring until softened, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl.

3. Add the Swiss chard to the bowl, along with the potato, parsley, feta, Fontina, salt and pepper to taste, the eggs, and 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil. Mix well.

4. Lightly flour a sheet of plastic wrap and place the dough on it. Flour the dough lightly, and cover it with another piece of plastic wrap. Roll the dough out to a 15-inch circle. Remove the plastic wrap and place the dough on an oiled baking sheet.

5. Spread the filling on the dough, leaving a 11/2 inch border all around. Fold the border over the filling, pleating, overlapping itself slightly every 2 inches or so to look like a rustic tart. (The middle can be open.) Brush the dough with 1 T. of olive oil. Bake for 30 minutes, or until the crust and fillings are lightly browned. Slice, and serve hot or at room temperature.

-- Condensed recipe from John and Galina Mariana's The Italian American Cookbook

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