Belgian endive--the cave-dweller of the garden

02/20/2008
Belgian endive--the cave-dweller of the garden

Now, tell the truth.  When was the last time you ate a Belgian endive?

 

“…?”

 

You know, those creamy white, torpedo-shaped things in the salad section of the supermarket?  Perhaps you can’t remember ever eating one.  I’m not sure why Belgian endive—along with its more conventional-looking cousins, curly endive and escarole—have never really caught on with American eaters.  The French scarf down tons of them every year, not only in salad but even more often cooked.  In fact, braised endives are as classic a side dish as the familiar haricots verts, the extra-thin green beans the French are famous for.

 

So just what is a Belgian endive?  Why, it’s none other than a much tampered-with derivative of Chicorium intybus, the common wild chicory with sky-blue flowers on wiry stems that decorates our rural roadsides in summer.  While chicory is naturalized in the U.S., it is native throughout much of Europe.  In fact, Europeans have been gathering the first young leaves of this plant for early spring salads since the dawn of man.  But it was always a fleeting pleasure, as the leaves quickly turn inedibly bitter and tough as they mature.  Leave it to human ingenuity not to be deprived of so stalwart and ubiquitous a food plant.  By the mid 1600’s, the French had figured out how to blanch bitter plants by depriving them of light, thus rendering them succulent and tender.  They were also starting to force winter salads by digging them at the end of the season, then burying them in soil in dark cellars.  The resulting pale yellow sprouts were not only delicious but provided an important dietary source of fresh leaves when the ground outside was frozen solid.

 

But it was the Belgians who raised forcing to a high art.  By the mid 19^th century, Brézier, chief gardener at the Brussels Botanic Garden, had developed a chicory with an especially thick root, which when forced, yielded a compact, elongated head of pale succulent leaves.  By 1867, the witloof (Flemish for “white leaf”), was appearing in markets throughout Belgium.  

 

The French were quick to succumb to the rage for this new salad, and by 1872, the witloof was appearing in Vilmorin’s seed catalogue.  It was a fad that was destined to become tradition.  Unlike many of the seed varieties listed at that time, the Witloof endive is still widely available today, thanks to undying European enthusiasm for this succulent salad.  A salad which, by the way, reveals an entirely different flavour personality when cooked, which is how it is most often enjoyed in France.  (Check out my various endive recipes in Dans la Cuisine.)

 

So, imagine my excitement when, while looking for growers of leeks a few weeks ago, I stumbled across Norman market gardener Eric Roussel.  Sure, he grew leeks (doesn’t everyone?) but his pride and joy were his soil-forced endives.  “You know,” he told me, “almost all endives today are produced hydroponically.”  I didn’t know.  He pointed to the bag of just-harvested endives in his hand.  “See how white, and how fat they are?  That’s because I force them in the earth, the old-fashioned way.”

In fact, commercially grown Belgian endives are first field-grown.  The machine-harvested roots are then suspended in a hydroponic solution for forcing, which is why the supermarket endive you’ve probably been avoiding has such an elongated shape.  Mr. Roussel, on the other hand, sows his endive seed in the spring.  It germinates quickly, sprouting in only a couple of days.  Over the summer, the plants form vigorous rosettes of thick, bitter leaves.

 In late fall, Roussel digs them up and cuts back the tops.  In an unheated plastic greenhouse, he prepares a long windrow of soil about 4 inches deep, with a thicker knob at one end.  Against this knob, he begins stacking the endive roots upright, one against the other, covering them with 3 or 4 inches of soil as he goes.  When the entire windrow is full, he covers it with plastic tarps to keep out any trace of light, which would turn the endives green and bitter.  About 6 weeks later, he can start harvesting the succulent, fat endives to sell to his eager customers.

As he keeps his stock of unforced roots in a walk-in cooler and creates several successive forcings, he harvests fresh endives all through the winter into spring.  His soil-forced endives taste so much better than the hydroponic product that his customers don't mind paying more for them.  And I can testify that Roussel's "endives de terre" have a depth of hazelnut-like flavor entirely lacking in commercial endives.  Plus, they are incredibly dense, with a crackling, succulent texture that is frankly irresistable.

After harvesting, Roussel told me, the roots must be composted.  He waved his arm at a pile of what seemed like thousands of roots.  If you just throw the roots out on the ground somewhere, he cautioned me, they'll start growing again!

 

Since you don't live near Eric Roussel, you'll need to grow and force your own Belgian endives in order to experience the delicacy they can be.  (I can already hear the protests:  Too much work!  Don't have a greenhouse!  No cellar either!)

But wait.  Growing and forcing your own is really not that difficult, and quite a bit of fun.  Your kids will like it.  First, grow the endive plants in your garden this year.  That in itself couldn't be easier; the vigorous plants germinate fast and have no pests whatsoever.  Then, in late fall, dig them using a good garden spade.  Cut back the tops (great compost material) and place the roots in a dark garbage bag in an unheated garage (bet you've got one of those). 

Now, go to your local construction site dumpster and pick up some 5 gallon plastic buckets.  Put a layer of soil in the bottom of one, then fill it loosely with endive roots, packed upright, tops up.  (If any of your roots are too long to fit, just trim their bottoms.) Fill in around and over them with finely crumbled moist soil.  Rap the bucket sharply several times to settle the soil, but don't water as your bucket has no drainage.  After making sure the tops of the roots are securely covered with soil, loosely slip a black garbage bag over the bucket to keep out all light.  Leave the bucket in a chilly basement or unheated garage for about 6 weeks, forgetting about it except for checking to make sure the soil stays lightly moist (water very lightly if it dries out).  Stagger your buckets a week apart for a prolonged harvest.

After 6 to 8 weeks, gather your kids around and have them gently remove the top layer of soil to reveal the fat white endives lurking in the dark.  Pull them out and cut off the roots and hurry into the kitchen.  A simple, crunchy salad of endives, apples, and walnuts is a great way to introduce kids to the pleasures of endive eating.  Before you know it, they'll have moved up to carmelized endives and chestnuts!

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