Ra-ra radicchio

This month’s choice might, at first glance, leave you feeling a little cheated. What, you may be thinking, is so blinking unusual about a lettuce? And that, dear reader, is why we are dedicating this page to the poor thing. Radicchio is one misunderstood little vegetable.

First things first, let’s do the name thing. It’s radicchio as in Rick, not Richard. You don’t pronounce the ‘h’ or do that funny Italian thing with the ‘cc’. Secondly, radicchio is not, strictly speaking, a lettuce. It’s a member of the chicory family. The myriad forms of these bitter, leafy greens run from the feral dandelions in your back garden to the super-tamed, blanched chicories found at the greengrocer’s.

Forcing chicory leaves removes some of their bitterness, but not all. Chicories are one of those foods I think of as very grown up. If, as a child, you hated olives, marmalade or even chicory, it was probably due to their bitterness. We seem to learn to like this as we become adults and develop a taste for other bitter flavours (alcohol, for example). So, chicories are not everyone’s cup of tea. Or should I say coffee, as that’s probably the best way to describe their flavour.
 
Anyway, radicchio is the tightly leafed, dark-red form of chicory. It can take many shapes, but the three you are most likely to come across are the ones favoured by Italian growers. Venetian radicchio is the most familiar. It’s round and marbled with a creamy white streak through the leaves. Treviso (or trevisse) is shaped like an elongated tulip, or pointed cabbage. And less common, but not too hard to find, is tardivo, with its thick, handle-like stem below the leaves. All three are sold here as salad leaves but in Italy they are more likely to come to the table cooked. This also mellows the bitter notes and brings out a subtle sweetness.

Buying and using radicchio

Whatever form you come across should be tight and squeakily fresh. Limpness is a sign that the radicchio was picked some time ago. If you can, I always think it best to use any tender-leafed vegetable the day you buy it, but if this is not possible radicchio will keep well in the fridge for a couple of days. The best way to store it is whole and unwashed, wrapped in a damp tea towel or kitchen towel to protect it from the fridge’s rather dry air.

Round radicchio is best when cooked but the trevisse and tardivo forms will add a crunchy, colourful character to winter salad mixes. As you can imagine, the bitter notes in their leaves are best complemented by contrasting tastes. Cheeses (especially salty or blue types such as feta or Roquefort) are amazing foils for them. So are root vegetables, which seem extra sweet when tossed with bitter leaves.

If you plan on cooking radicchio, it is best wilted very simply, with oil and, perhaps, a splash of lemon juice or vinegar, which both helps it keep its colour and adds another aspect to the bitter notes. Try grilling trevisse or tardivo, simply cut into halves or quarters down their length and drizzle with oil. The results are great sprinkled with pine nuts and some very fresh mozzarella. I have also eaten cooked trevisse with cottage cheese and grapes, which is not nearly as odd as it sounds.

This month’s recipe is a real winter warmer. And you’ll find the natural muskiness of mushroom is another great tempering ingredient when it comes to radicchio.

You could use any of the three types, following the method in the recipe. You could also use another chicory if the only radicchio in your local grocer is hiding out in the salad bag. Talk about hiding your light under a bushel…