Wintery Salads

Part One - Endives.

photos by Carla Gras

I hefted open the heavy wooden door, bringing a blast of cold air trailing behind me and possibly lowering the temperature of the entire room by ten degrees. Dusted with snowflakes, I was suddenly enveloped in the dining room like a warm hug. Tilia, the treasured Minneapolis restaurant, would soon become beloved to my own heart.

After wine, a flurry of ordering for the table. My stomach groaned, in need of some food to come down the chute and now. When someone at the table suggested we start with the endive salad, my need for sustenance was the force behind a small eye roll. At 20, I was a bread and butter girl, and preferably straight into a main course packed with carbohydrates.

I had been quipping about the iceberg lettuce salads of my childhood when a nameless food runner glided to our table and landed the salad between us without a sound.

Well this is going to be bland, I thought, as dreams of dinner rolls floated through my frontal lobe. I pitchforked one of the oblong leaves and reluctantly transported it to my small plate. I wondered, do the same rules apply here as they do with sushi, all in one bite?

I curiously lifted it to my mouth and bit. The leaf was juicy, slightly bitter, and cold. The vinaigrette rich and sweet, dripping down my chin. And it was one of those moments where all else truly slipped away, and the entire sum of my attention was on the plate in front of me. For all the eating I had done up to that point, very rarely was I surprised by something that hit my tongue. I sat there, surprised, and I’ve never forgotten my first crisp, white endive.

Bitterness is a flavor that I’ve grown to appreciate as my world of eating expands. If you are like me, a little nervous about bitterness in my foods, then endives seems like a great portal to enter that world, and poke around a bit.

Now, twelve years after my encounter with this salad, my preference is to fatten the endives up with creamy vinaigrettes and lots of olive oil. Oh, how they drip with encouragement.

The thick stem of the endive gets cut down until the leaves fall apart naturally. The pistachios get just barely crushed with the weight of my knife, the celery diced, and all of it smothered in a buttermilk vinaigrette. A generous pinch of salt follows. After compiling them on a plate in an artistically haphazard mound, black pepper and olive oil make the salad complete.

Buttermilk Vinaigrette: yield, 2 quarts

400g buttermilk

30g champagne vinegar

7g kosher salt

1 garlic clove, crushed

200g canola oil

juice of 1 lemon

Blend all, except vinegar and canola oil, to combine. Add the vinegar. While the blender or food processor is running, stream in the oil until just thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Taste and adjust for seasoning.

*If you don’t have a blender or food processor, you can do this by hand in a large bowl with a whisk. Ground your bowl to your counter by setting it on a damp towel, and stream in the oil to emulsify properly.

*I prefer to write and work with recipes that have been weighed out beforehand and often encourage home cooks to do the same. Here is the scale that I use.

I love you all.

XO