Nov

An OIC Vegetable Moment

by Meredith Mullins on November 8, 2012

Endive for sale in a Normandy vegetable market gives the author an "Oh, I see" moment about the endive growing cycle

Endive for sale in a Normandy vegetable market
© Meredith Mullins

Endive Indeed

How could I have eaten endive for so many years and have no idea how it looks “in the wild” or how complex its growing process is?

How could I be so uncaring about a vegetable’s life cycle or take such a crunchy treat for granted?

It took the convergence of a Saturday morning market in Normandy and a stall dedicated solely to endives to lead me to an endive ephiphany. What is that I C?

The Bizarre Life of an Endive

I recognized the finished product easily enough, as it sat on the scale waiting to be weighed and bagged, looking like plump little rolled white cigars.

But what was that off to the side in the big red tub? It was something completely alien. The endive “bud,” perched on its root throne, looked so bizarre that I had to ask the friendly endive seller if this was normal . . . or some sort of weird mutant.

Tub of endive attached to its root, creating an "Oh, I see" moment about how the vegetable grows

Endive attached to its root
© Meredith Mullins

He looked at me as if I were some sort of weird mutant—as if the crusty root stalk and the scraggly feeder tendrils, with a proud crown of cream-colored tightly packed leaves was something every schoolchild would recognize.

Endive is in the same botanical family as chicory and is sometimes called witloof (white leaf). After the initial plant is grown in an open field, the roots are “harvested.” They are taken to storage, somewhere completely dark, to allow the endive bud to sprout in second growth. The dark room keeps the leaves from turning green.

Endive attached to its long root, providing an "Oh, I see" moment on its growth process

An “alien” endive?
© Meredith Mullins

A History as Long as Its Root

The edible endive was born by accident. The story goes like this:

A Belgian farmer was storing chicory roots in his cellar so that he could dry and roast them for coffee.
He was called to war and, when he returned, he found that the roots had sprouted small, white leaves.
Curious . . . he ate one. It was tender and crunchy.

Immediately, visions of endive salad (with tangerines and caramelized walnuts) and baked endive with ham danced in his head. OK, probably not. He was probably just craving coffee.

But, eventually, the taste of the slightly bitter endive leaf caught on and the rest is culinary history.

My Endive Epiphany

I left the market in Normandy with a memorable Oh, I see moment: I will never take another vegetable for granted. When I really stop to think, the preparation of any vegetable takes a lot of time and care. The flavor should be savored.

And when I pay 50 cents for a tasty, crunchy endive, I’ll think to myself—a two-part growing cycle that took 150 days— “50 cents is a real bargain!”

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