I love radicchio.
A member of the chicory family, it is the oft overlooked purple orb at the grocery store, streaked with white veins through the tightly bound leaves. It is assertive, bitter, and rewards a patient eater. It’s charms may not be evident the first time you try it, but like many assertive flavors (anchovies, the Negroni) it rewards the committed.
My first introduction to radicchio was at FIG in Charleston, where I worked for several years after I relocated from Kentucky. In those early days they served a warm shrimp and radicchio salad, peppered with bacon. The unforgiving notes of the radicchio were tamed by the richness of the pork. It was a popular salad, and a revelation to me. I started to add it to my cart at the grocery.
Now, I’ll take radicchio in all forms. I love to char it on the grill or stovetop, slathering it in tzatziki and hazelnuts, or just drizzled in a great balsamic. It’s a fantastic addition to a simple salad, which it will always elevate. And I love it as the base for a bitter Caesar - somehow the pungent notes of anchovy dressing tame the bitterness.
Recently I read a recipe for a Radicchio and Walnut pasta from Milk Street. As with all recipes, I used it as a guide, not gospel. I riffed on the dish for an easy weeknight supper, and my wife remarked it was one of the most delicious pastas I had made in some time. And the leftovers, served cold, were unforgettable.
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