How do you say "iceberg lettuce" in French?

07/01/2010
How do you say "iceberg lettuce" in French?

Field greens, baby lettuces, lamb's lettuce, arugula...chic gardeners and gastronomes (sorry, I can't stand the word "foodie") everywhere want every leaf imaginable in their salad bowl except one:  iceberg lettuce.  The very word "iceberg" sends a shiver of revulsion down the backs of us food snobs.  We remember the pallid, water-logged, tasteless heads of pale, barely green heads slumbering under cellophane in the supermarket produce section.  Iceberg's pallor seems made for the unhealthy glow of fluorescent lights; it's the very symbol of everything we want to escape when we shop our local farmers' markets or better yet, sow our own salad greens.  Iceberg lettuce--created as a recipient of those creamy, polymer-gel industrial salad dressings.  But all that is behind us now.  Bring on the olive oil and balsamic!  And nothing but the daintiest field greens on my plate, thank you very much.

And yet, and yet... I guess every time the herd starts moving in one direction, I start heading in another.  And so it is that--although I grow more "field greens" and more varieties of weird salad greens and edible weeds than probably anyone you know--I've rediscovered and come to love iceberg, in its French incarnation, that is.  Here in France, iceberg-type lettuces--known as batavias--reign supreme, much esteemed for their juicy, crunchy leaves and--get this--highly variable  forms, colors, and flavor!

While most "authorities" (whatever that means in the Internet age) state that iceberg-type lettuces form a head while batavias aree "loose-leaf," I've found this to be a specious distinction.  In fact, icebergs and batavias belong to the same tribe of lettuces distinguished by thick, crunchy leaves with parallel veins that are never fibrous like those of romaines.  The true 'Iceberg' cultivar was introduced in 1894 by the W. Atlee Burpee seed company.  'Iceberg' was a cultivar with all of the wild bitterness (read color and flavor) bred out of its leaves.  It had exceptionally large, dense central heads of tightly packed, pale and listless leaves.

Meanwhile, back in France, the French were gobbling up their version of iceberg--the batavias--in all their many-splendored colors and forms (ruffly, frilly, quilted leaves, etc.).  The biggest difference between these two lettuce traditions is the stage of maturity at harvest and the manner of harvesting.  In France, batavias are harvested young, with the dense head at the center unformed or just beginning to form.  All the "skirt" (outer) leaves are cut along with the head.  And the varieties selected have rich variation in their leaf color and form.  In iceberg production, harvest comes later when the central head is as large as possible, and the darker green skirt leaves are left in the field.

In fact, just like all lettuces, batavias can be harvested at any stage of maturity short of bolting (and even after bolting, the stems make a succulent cooked vegetable).  You will discover this for yourself if you grow them.  And in my experience, the batavia tribe is more bolt-resistant than the butterhead clan.  Personally, my favorite stage for batavia harvest is when the inner head is just beginning to form, the leaves curling inward over each other to hint at the head to come.

French batavias are available in a glorious array of colors: brilliant chartreuse golden-green (such as 'Blonde de Paris' at right); deep green; brushed with bronze ('Gloire de Dauphiné above left) or flushed with red (Rouge Grenobloise above right). 

All the batavias I grow are heirloom varieties, many of them already cited in Vilmorin catalogs of the 1800s.  Their names--like most heirloom vegetable variety names in France--reflect their region or town of origin--their terroir.  But of course--as with everything French--there are exceptions.  'Reine des Glaces'  ("ice queen"--main photo at head of article) has exquisitely frilly, jagged leaves that put me in mind of the elaborate dresses worn by ladies of the court during the reign of the Sun King.  And the stunning 'Goutte de Sang' ("drop of blood," pictured below) is obviously named after the extraordinary coloration of its succulent leaves--sprayed with distinct spots and splatters of deep, rich red.  How to choose among such an embarrassment of riches?  My answer to that question has always been:  Why choose?  I simply have to grow all of them!

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Products of Interest:
Lettuce 'Reine des Glaces'
Batavia lettuce 'Gloire du Dauphiné'
Batavia lettuce 'Rouge Grenobloise'
Lettuce 'Goutte de Sang'