Chicory and mustard salad
Chicory and mustard salad
“The chicory salad is just the right starter” (Nigella, p353).
I mentioned last week that I began teaching my first class for two days last week. This week was my first whole 5-day week with my new class. Whilst I know that this isn’t a teaching blog (and by the way, it seems as though there is a whole community of NQTs out there in blog land, writing about their experiences and sharing good teaching ideas. It does make me feel slightly apprehensively guilty that I am not motivated to do the same, but will happily spend hours writing about the slightest nuances of Nigella’s recipes! Perhaps I should sort my priorities out!), I would like to share with you that my new class is lovely. Indeed, I do consider myself very lucky to have them. And the astonishing thing is, that even after working a 17 hour day (if you factor in all the marking, assessing and planning after school) and quite possibly feeling more tired than I have ever been in my entire life, I absolutely adore it. Okay, I know its early days, but not once have I been rudely awakened by the alarm, only to wish death upon myself rather than step foot out of my warm cave. In actual fact, it’s scary just how much I have taken to the job. Usually cautious, cynical and measured about most things in life (with the exception of, rather worryingly, food), I feel like a bright-eyed, evangelical preacher, with all of the budding enthusiasm of a new first-time parent. It comes as no surprise to me that I love teaching. I had to pass three teaching practices for God’s sake, but whilst in those schools, I was always very aware of the fact that I was the student in somebody else’s classroom. The children were – quite rightly – loyal to their existing class teacher, and although I managed to fit into everywhere quite well, I never felt completely “at home” as it were. To have my own class, where I am recognised as the teacher, is such a mind-blowing experience. Just that knowledge is enough to make me *want* to stay late marking books and turns my late night sleepy thoughts to ideas which may or may not aid their learning. Oh, and I completely appreciate that some more experienced teachers may read this blog and recognise my babbling for what it is – initial fervour which will undoubtedly peter out come October – but in that case, please don’t tell me about it. Let me enjoy the feeling whilst it lasts (and long may that be!).
I must admit that it is quite strange not to be cooking from the chick pea section. Since I came off my diet and started eating sensibly again with a special innocent treaty meal on a Saturday, those meals have been chick pea based. Consider; I cooked the chick pea and pasta soup, chick peas with sorrel, hummus with seared lamb and toasted pine nuts and lamb with chick peas. As I said in the last post, I loved that section and feel as though it taught me a lot. I realise now that it might seem strange therefore, that I chose the cherried and chick pea’d couscous as my number one recipe from the section, when I actually cooked said recipe as part of the “cherries” section last year and my original review is hardly as enthused as those more recent analyses. Being on such a strict diet for so long, however, has a funny way of exaggerating the memory of food in one’s mind, and whether it is that I enjoyed that recipe much more than I realised at the time (being so smugly accepting of all that gloriously available food; taking it for granted almost) or that I have just built it up in my own mind so much, I now remember it as absolutely heavenly and well deserving of top spot.
I now approach a new section – the “chicory” section. When I started this blog, I will be honest and admit that I didn’t know anything about chicory. To be more honest, although I had a vague notion of it as a “salad leaf,” I am not sure that I could have picked it out of a food line up. There is no point being embarrassed about this. In fact, it is the very reason why I started this blog in the first place. I had the passion for food and loved Nigella, but my academic knowledge of ingredients needed serious brushing up. And although I don’t now claim to be Michele Roux (by any stretch of the imagination!), it makes me happy to recognise growth. There is no reason, however, why I *should* have known anything about chicory before starting this project. Growing up, I just didn’t eat it at all. We did eat salad (and a lot compared to most children I guess), but that never included the humble chicory leaf! I have used it a lot whilst cooking for this blog, however. The first time was for the “pea, mint and avocado salad,” which I really liked. Reading my “future changes,” I see now that one of them was to *increase* the quantity of chicory by at least another “head” as I liked it so much. The second time was for the “cheeses with bitter salad” recipe and again, I absolutely adored it (although, I am automatically susceptible to any recipe which contains blue cheese!). I notice that in his “other person’s perspective,” Chris said that he would prefer the chicory leaves cut in half to make them more manageable to eat, but I am completely ignoring that spoiled-child demand throughout this section (plus, I guess he has been that deprived of home-cooked food over the last few months, that he will now appreciate chicory in any form that I chose to deliver it!)! I haven’t limited my use of chicory to Nigella recipes however. Indeed, the second course (as it were) of my much-anticipated “returning” menu – the chick pea and pasta soup – consisted of a chicory and rocket salad, homemade wholemeal bread muffins and a taleggio cheese. And I think that this is true testament to how much I like chicory. I don’t just buy it and use it when a recipe stipulates, but eat it as part of a salad for pure pleasure; so much so, that it formed a part of my “homecoming” meal!
This recipe – the first in the section – is for a delightful-sounding chicory and mustard salad, which appears as a starter in the “dinner” chapter of How to Eat (p352-353). Whilst reading Feast the other day, I noticed that Nigella writes about a “bitter chicory salad” as part of a “New Years lunch” feast, which seems very similar to this recipe. The only differences being that in Feast, Nigella substitutes grainy mustard for the Dijon mustard used in HTE, adds honey (which I am a bit disappointed about, because I love honey) and omits crème fraiche. All else is the same, including the addition of sherry vinegar. Indeed, in Feast, Nigella writes; “it’s scarcely a recipe really, just the way I make it, give or take a change of mood and fridge-content” (Feast, p107). And yes, as always I am drawn to food that is repeated in more than one of Nigella’s books. That food always seems like so much less of a gimmick, painfully created specifically for the book-writing purpose, and so much more like honest, genuine food, eaten regularly by Nigella at home.
The fact that this salad has stood the test of time (or at least, the test of 3 books), is by no means the only reason why I am looking forward to making it. For a start, it is very different to that which I’m used to. My “fall-back” salad – as it were – is a packet of rocket, watercress and baby spinach, with a separated head of chicory, dressed with an EVOO/lemon juice dressing (you have no *idea* how much I make this!). So it is nice to step outside my comfort zone and create a very different salad, with very different ingredients. And what ingredients they are. I have already expressed my love of chicory (which is just as well, considering the section), but I also really like the other ingredients. I used sherry vinegar last year for the chestnut and pancetta salad and I loved its boozy, sharp notes and admired how well it worked in a salad. Indeed, I still have the bottle (thankfully with a much-belated expiry date) and I want to use the very same for this salad. I won’t expand on how pleased I was that crème fraiche featured in this menu. Anyone who needs to be told why I would love some smooth, velvety concoction, weighing in at about a million calories a teaspoon, is surely no lover of food! I do have a special affinity for Dijon mustard. I first got into Dijon mustard in a big way before I moved in with Chris for the first time. I remember having an absolute passion for it. I would dollop it on to any meal (particularly, I remember eating it with sausages and mash and sausages and salty sauté potatoes) and absolutely relished its spiced intensity and the way its desirable pungency got up my nose and made my eyes water. I guess its heat is addictive, because I remember gradually increasing – teaspoon by teaspoon – the amount of Dijon mustard which found its way on my plate! Chris loves it too and he eats it more than I do now, due to the fact that he uses it in his sandwiches everyday. Indeed, I didn’t need to buy a jar specifically for this recipe - I just looked in the fridge!
Nigella serves this as a starter (and see the above quote), but I am not serving it as such. For one thing, I loathe the notion of home-cooked starters – the dreaded procession of dinky courses is one thing at a restaurant, but quite another at home (especially when cooking for the one you love, as opposed to a table of guests) and for another, I prefer eating salads along with everything else (as a second vegetable I suppose). Nigella describes the salad as possessing “near-wincing astringency,” and, to me, the notion of a sharp, crisp and fresh salad seems perfect as part of a summery menu. Besides, autumn is slowly creeping into winter and I need to grab all the chances to make a fresh, summer menu that I can! In terms of the meat, I found a wonderful, really summery and brightly optimistic recipe from Tessa Kiros’s, “Apples for Jam.” It appears, completely appropriately, in the “orange” chapter and is her recipe for chicken drumsticks and wings with an orange tomato glaze. I have only cooked one recipe from that lovely book before – the pan-fried breaded lamb cutlets – and want to put that to rights as soon as possible! In terms of the carbohydrate element, I have decided on a recipe from Fiona Beckett’s “Meat and Two Veg” for sweet potato wedges. I have picked all of the food to look glorious and taste like summer on a plate. So, this is our bright summery meal: chicken drumsticks and wings with orange tomato glaze with sweet potato wedges and chicory and mustard salad. In terms of the very necessary alcoholic accompaniment, what could be better than a glass of chilled bucks fizz?
In terms of quantities, I am halving Nigella’s recipe for 6 for the 2 of us (with a little leftover). I am also halving quantities of the sweet potato recipe, originally intended for 4. Even though this is nothing to do with Nigella (who I trust utterly and completely on portion sizes), I was very irritated with the quantities of Tessa’s recipe, which stipulates 6 drumsticks and 6 wings for 6 people (working out at one drumstick and one wing each). Now to me, that sounds measly beyond belief, but I didn’t get to be 15 ½ stone from knowing a lot about portion sizes, and so I asked my favourite foodie forum, which luckily agreed with me that it was outrageous. They helped me decide to reduce quantities by one third and serve 4 drumsticks and 4 wings (meaning that we both have two drumsticks and two wings each). Thanks ladies!
I must admit that it is quite strange not to be cooking from the chick pea section. Since I came off my diet and started eating sensibly again with a special innocent treaty meal on a Saturday, those meals have been chick pea based. Consider; I cooked the chick pea and pasta soup, chick peas with sorrel, hummus with seared lamb and toasted pine nuts and lamb with chick peas. As I said in the last post, I loved that section and feel as though it taught me a lot. I realise now that it might seem strange therefore, that I chose the cherried and chick pea’d couscous as my number one recipe from the section, when I actually cooked said recipe as part of the “cherries” section last year and my original review is hardly as enthused as those more recent analyses. Being on such a strict diet for so long, however, has a funny way of exaggerating the memory of food in one’s mind, and whether it is that I enjoyed that recipe much more than I realised at the time (being so smugly accepting of all that gloriously available food; taking it for granted almost) or that I have just built it up in my own mind so much, I now remember it as absolutely heavenly and well deserving of top spot.
I now approach a new section – the “chicory” section. When I started this blog, I will be honest and admit that I didn’t know anything about chicory. To be more honest, although I had a vague notion of it as a “salad leaf,” I am not sure that I could have picked it out of a food line up. There is no point being embarrassed about this. In fact, it is the very reason why I started this blog in the first place. I had the passion for food and loved Nigella, but my academic knowledge of ingredients needed serious brushing up. And although I don’t now claim to be Michele Roux (by any stretch of the imagination!), it makes me happy to recognise growth. There is no reason, however, why I *should* have known anything about chicory before starting this project. Growing up, I just didn’t eat it at all. We did eat salad (and a lot compared to most children I guess), but that never included the humble chicory leaf! I have used it a lot whilst cooking for this blog, however. The first time was for the “pea, mint and avocado salad,” which I really liked. Reading my “future changes,” I see now that one of them was to *increase* the quantity of chicory by at least another “head” as I liked it so much. The second time was for the “cheeses with bitter salad” recipe and again, I absolutely adored it (although, I am automatically susceptible to any recipe which contains blue cheese!). I notice that in his “other person’s perspective,” Chris said that he would prefer the chicory leaves cut in half to make them more manageable to eat, but I am completely ignoring that spoiled-child demand throughout this section (plus, I guess he has been that deprived of home-cooked food over the last few months, that he will now appreciate chicory in any form that I chose to deliver it!)! I haven’t limited my use of chicory to Nigella recipes however. Indeed, the second course (as it were) of my much-anticipated “returning” menu – the chick pea and pasta soup – consisted of a chicory and rocket salad, homemade wholemeal bread muffins and a taleggio cheese. And I think that this is true testament to how much I like chicory. I don’t just buy it and use it when a recipe stipulates, but eat it as part of a salad for pure pleasure; so much so, that it formed a part of my “homecoming” meal!
This recipe – the first in the section – is for a delightful-sounding chicory and mustard salad, which appears as a starter in the “dinner” chapter of How to Eat (p352-353). Whilst reading Feast the other day, I noticed that Nigella writes about a “bitter chicory salad” as part of a “New Years lunch” feast, which seems very similar to this recipe. The only differences being that in Feast, Nigella substitutes grainy mustard for the Dijon mustard used in HTE, adds honey (which I am a bit disappointed about, because I love honey) and omits crème fraiche. All else is the same, including the addition of sherry vinegar. Indeed, in Feast, Nigella writes; “it’s scarcely a recipe really, just the way I make it, give or take a change of mood and fridge-content” (Feast, p107). And yes, as always I am drawn to food that is repeated in more than one of Nigella’s books. That food always seems like so much less of a gimmick, painfully created specifically for the book-writing purpose, and so much more like honest, genuine food, eaten regularly by Nigella at home.
The fact that this salad has stood the test of time (or at least, the test of 3 books), is by no means the only reason why I am looking forward to making it. For a start, it is very different to that which I’m used to. My “fall-back” salad – as it were – is a packet of rocket, watercress and baby spinach, with a separated head of chicory, dressed with an EVOO/lemon juice dressing (you have no *idea* how much I make this!). So it is nice to step outside my comfort zone and create a very different salad, with very different ingredients. And what ingredients they are. I have already expressed my love of chicory (which is just as well, considering the section), but I also really like the other ingredients. I used sherry vinegar last year for the chestnut and pancetta salad and I loved its boozy, sharp notes and admired how well it worked in a salad. Indeed, I still have the bottle (thankfully with a much-belated expiry date) and I want to use the very same for this salad. I won’t expand on how pleased I was that crème fraiche featured in this menu. Anyone who needs to be told why I would love some smooth, velvety concoction, weighing in at about a million calories a teaspoon, is surely no lover of food! I do have a special affinity for Dijon mustard. I first got into Dijon mustard in a big way before I moved in with Chris for the first time. I remember having an absolute passion for it. I would dollop it on to any meal (particularly, I remember eating it with sausages and mash and sausages and salty sauté potatoes) and absolutely relished its spiced intensity and the way its desirable pungency got up my nose and made my eyes water. I guess its heat is addictive, because I remember gradually increasing – teaspoon by teaspoon – the amount of Dijon mustard which found its way on my plate! Chris loves it too and he eats it more than I do now, due to the fact that he uses it in his sandwiches everyday. Indeed, I didn’t need to buy a jar specifically for this recipe - I just looked in the fridge!
Nigella serves this as a starter (and see the above quote), but I am not serving it as such. For one thing, I loathe the notion of home-cooked starters – the dreaded procession of dinky courses is one thing at a restaurant, but quite another at home (especially when cooking for the one you love, as opposed to a table of guests) and for another, I prefer eating salads along with everything else (as a second vegetable I suppose). Nigella describes the salad as possessing “near-wincing astringency,” and, to me, the notion of a sharp, crisp and fresh salad seems perfect as part of a summery menu. Besides, autumn is slowly creeping into winter and I need to grab all the chances to make a fresh, summer menu that I can! In terms of the meat, I found a wonderful, really summery and brightly optimistic recipe from Tessa Kiros’s, “Apples for Jam.” It appears, completely appropriately, in the “orange” chapter and is her recipe for chicken drumsticks and wings with an orange tomato glaze. I have only cooked one recipe from that lovely book before – the pan-fried breaded lamb cutlets – and want to put that to rights as soon as possible! In terms of the carbohydrate element, I have decided on a recipe from Fiona Beckett’s “Meat and Two Veg” for sweet potato wedges. I have picked all of the food to look glorious and taste like summer on a plate. So, this is our bright summery meal: chicken drumsticks and wings with orange tomato glaze with sweet potato wedges and chicory and mustard salad. In terms of the very necessary alcoholic accompaniment, what could be better than a glass of chilled bucks fizz?
In terms of quantities, I am halving Nigella’s recipe for 6 for the 2 of us (with a little leftover). I am also halving quantities of the sweet potato recipe, originally intended for 4. Even though this is nothing to do with Nigella (who I trust utterly and completely on portion sizes), I was very irritated with the quantities of Tessa’s recipe, which stipulates 6 drumsticks and 6 wings for 6 people (working out at one drumstick and one wing each). Now to me, that sounds measly beyond belief, but I didn’t get to be 15 ½ stone from knowing a lot about portion sizes, and so I asked my favourite foodie forum, which luckily agreed with me that it was outrageous. They helped me decide to reduce quantities by one third and serve 4 drumsticks and 4 wings (meaning that we both have two drumsticks and two wings each). Thanks ladies!
Ingredients: It is easy to acquire all of the ingredients for this salad. Certainly, sherry vinegar, crème fraiche and Dijon mustard are even sold at my local corner-store (although I didn’t buy mine from there!). Personally, I like using the best EVOO for dressing salads, because then (unlike for frying) you are actually eating it unsullied by any cooking process. I have written before about my new purchase of EVOO (and see the chick pea and pasta soup post if you are interested), but I would recommend using a half-decent one here. Nigella instructs to use red or auburn-tipped chicory if you can find it, but to use the blonde witloof if not. You may find red chicory if you’re lucky. I know Waitrose sells it for instance, and I have seen it in one of the larger Sainsburys. Luckily, I have a farm-shop up the road from me and I whizzed there after work on Friday to see if they stocked it. Fortunately they did (and usually do according to them, which will make next week easier!). So, try the above supermarkets or hunt out a local farm shop, or just go with plan B and use the normal green-white stuff.
I was actually very lucky with all of the ingredients for the entire menu. Nothing posed a problem. For Tessa’s recipe, I brought my chicken from the same butcher as last week. In her sweet potato recipe, Fiona Beckett stipulates “a hot spice grind mix” for sprinkling over the potatoes prior to roasting, and I opted (after a lot of deliberation, which is why I mention it at all) for garam masala.
I was actually very lucky with all of the ingredients for the entire menu. Nothing posed a problem. For Tessa’s recipe, I brought my chicken from the same butcher as last week. In her sweet potato recipe, Fiona Beckett stipulates “a hot spice grind mix” for sprinkling over the potatoes prior to roasting, and I opted (after a lot of deliberation, which is why I mention it at all) for garam masala.
Price: The salad was very cheap to make indeed. The crème fraiche and the chicory totalled just £2.35. We did already have a lot of the ingredients – sherry vinegar (and see above), Dijon mustard (again, see above) and EVOO – but even with these additions, I can’t imagine that this would be an expensive option.
(That lovely red chicory)
(Washed and draining)
Method: Obviously I don’t have a lot to say here. How hard could it be to make a salad (I say that, although I have seen some bloody fussy ones out there and I’m sure Heston Blumenthal would find a way to make them impossible)? I have said before that I like pottering around the kitchen during the afternoon, slowly preparing and building up a meal, but this salad really should be done at the last minute. I don’t like the thought of dressed leaves slowly turning soft and soggy. I write this, yet I did wash the chicory leaves pretty early, because they did need to be washed and I don’t own a salad spinner. Actually, I used to think that the notion of salad spinners was a ridiculous one, but a few people whose opinion’s I really respect, swear by them. I may have to invest in one in the near future.
I suppose you could make up the dressing slightly in advance, but I made mine about half an hour before we sat down to eat. Making the dressing is really easy and requires machinery no more technical than a fork! Basically, all you do is fork together sherry (or cider) vinegar, Dijon mustard, a pinch of salt and crème fraiche. This is easy and quickly mixes to a smooth, albeit rather thin, dressing. Adding the EVOO demands a little bit of patience, but not much! The EVOO needs to be added very slowly, whilst one continues furiously forking/whisking the dressing, rather in the same way as mayonnaise is made. I say that, but it is hardly as precarious and knife-edge as making mayonnaise. And I’m very glad of that, because a few weeks ago I took it upon myself to make aioli from scratch and I managed to botch 3 batches before I gave up and added some pounded garlic to a bowl of Helmans! Basically, all I did here was hold my measuring spoon above the bowl with my left hand and whisked with my right hand. I poured the EVOO in quite slowly - a little at a time - , but please don’t think that the dressing requires a *drop* of EVOO at a time in the same way as mayonnaise. I probably added a little trickle every time. Oh, and even though it doesn’t say this in the recipe, I did wait until each glass-green streak was thoroughly whisked in to the thickening ointment before adding my next trickle. I’m sure that this wouldn’t curdle, but habit dictates. Although I didn’t time myself, I would imagine that adding the EVOO took all of about 3 or 4 minutes. When all of the EVOO has been whisked in, the dressing takes on a very different consistency. It is much thicker, much more velvety, with a texture similar to good double cream. Nigella describes the texture as “amalgamated” and that is indeed the perfect adjective to use here.
Just before everything was due to come out of the oven, I put the chicory leaves in a serving bowl, poured over about half the dressing and mixed through. I usually add dressings bit by bit, by the way. I feel that pouring over the whole thing might result in a costly and time-consuming mistake. I tossed the dressing through the chicory leaves with my beech serving-hands. I love these babies so much and promise you that they are an invaluable commodity! I should also mention the fact that I wish I had mixed the leaves and dressing in a separate bowl from that in which I wished to serve the salad. The dressing coated and slicked the sides of the bowl and to make it look half-way presentable for the picture, I had to wipe down the sides with kitchen towel. It hardly matters if you are serving this for your (hopefully unjudgemental) loved ones, but if I were to make this as part of a fancy meal (and I might), I would recommend tossing through the dressing and then decanting.
I suppose you could make up the dressing slightly in advance, but I made mine about half an hour before we sat down to eat. Making the dressing is really easy and requires machinery no more technical than a fork! Basically, all you do is fork together sherry (or cider) vinegar, Dijon mustard, a pinch of salt and crème fraiche. This is easy and quickly mixes to a smooth, albeit rather thin, dressing. Adding the EVOO demands a little bit of patience, but not much! The EVOO needs to be added very slowly, whilst one continues furiously forking/whisking the dressing, rather in the same way as mayonnaise is made. I say that, but it is hardly as precarious and knife-edge as making mayonnaise. And I’m very glad of that, because a few weeks ago I took it upon myself to make aioli from scratch and I managed to botch 3 batches before I gave up and added some pounded garlic to a bowl of Helmans! Basically, all I did here was hold my measuring spoon above the bowl with my left hand and whisked with my right hand. I poured the EVOO in quite slowly - a little at a time - , but please don’t think that the dressing requires a *drop* of EVOO at a time in the same way as mayonnaise. I probably added a little trickle every time. Oh, and even though it doesn’t say this in the recipe, I did wait until each glass-green streak was thoroughly whisked in to the thickening ointment before adding my next trickle. I’m sure that this wouldn’t curdle, but habit dictates. Although I didn’t time myself, I would imagine that adding the EVOO took all of about 3 or 4 minutes. When all of the EVOO has been whisked in, the dressing takes on a very different consistency. It is much thicker, much more velvety, with a texture similar to good double cream. Nigella describes the texture as “amalgamated” and that is indeed the perfect adjective to use here.
Just before everything was due to come out of the oven, I put the chicory leaves in a serving bowl, poured over about half the dressing and mixed through. I usually add dressings bit by bit, by the way. I feel that pouring over the whole thing might result in a costly and time-consuming mistake. I tossed the dressing through the chicory leaves with my beech serving-hands. I love these babies so much and promise you that they are an invaluable commodity! I should also mention the fact that I wish I had mixed the leaves and dressing in a separate bowl from that in which I wished to serve the salad. The dressing coated and slicked the sides of the bowl and to make it look half-way presentable for the picture, I had to wipe down the sides with kitchen towel. It hardly matters if you are serving this for your (hopefully unjudgemental) loved ones, but if I were to make this as part of a fancy meal (and I might), I would recommend tossing through the dressing and then decanting.
(The whisked sherry vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt and creme fraiche)
(With the added EVOO)
Result: The first thing to mention regarding this salad is the appearance. I don’t know about you, but I think that those pale, crimson –tipped, slender blades looked truly lovely and absolutely glorious. In actual fact, they reminded me of William Morris wallpaper. I loved the way the delicate blushing flush of red weaved its intricate way out onto the bright-white, smooth tongue. Indeed, those leaves almost looked artificial; a superb painting! They were slicked with the dressing – quite heavily so – which gave them an almost glossed sheen. In some places, a little of the dressing had pooled into the upside curve of the leaf. I know that Nigella writes that you shouldn’t think twice about using the normal green chicory, but after seeing those blushing beauties, I would be sorry to. The green ones just don’t compare visually at all, and whilst this is cooking, not performance art, a little visual appeal is sometimes very necessary. It was almost a shame to eat it, but eat it we did and I am very thankful of that fact indeed!
Whilst I say that I loved the look of these, all that would be in vain if the salad wasn’t up to scratch in terms of taste. I am happy to report the very opposite. This salad was absolutely gorgeous. There was a certain sharpness – a piquancy – to the dressing. I loved that biting sourness, which I think was from the sherry vinegar. This tartness complimented the natural bitterness of the chicory perfectly. And as with all things that come with a punch, it is very addictive. I could also taste the Dijon mustard in the dressing. It certainly made its presence known and the natural sharpness of the Dijon mustard perfectly complimented the piquant sherry vinegar. I love the peppery strength of Dijon mustard and I really felt that it added a lot to the dressing. I don’t mean, however, to give the impression of a wincingly-sharp – bitter if you like – salad. Yes, there was a sharp *edge* to this salad, but I have written about that vinegar-mustard tang, and I will now describe the rest of the flavours in the salad. There was also a surprisingly creamy, smooth and velvety base-flavour to the dressing. Indeed, I am sure that it is this foundation that the sharper flavours work their magic upon. I understand that this thin creaminess is from the crème fraiche and it certainly worked well as a lubricating ingredient which provided that all-too moorish sour/sweet element to the salad. It hardly needs to be written, I suppose, but the chicory leaves themselves were lovely. They have a natural bitterness to them and the dressing both enhanced and mellowed that simultaneously. I am not sure if the red chicory is any different in taste to its more-renowned blond sister, but it was lovely all the same; a very clean, crisp taste which cleansed the palate. It was partly this which made it such a perfect accompaniment to the rest of our meal. I deliberately chose quite sweet dishes to go alongside, as I wanted the astringency of the chicory to cut through all that soft sweetness, and it did the job perfectly. So, all in all, we absolutely loved it. In fact, I usually try and save a little of what I have made to eat now – whilst I write – to remind myself of the tastes and flavours, but I am typing away now purely from memory, as we ate the entire salad (in quantities designed for 3 no less) in its entirety before we left the dining room. I am choosing not to feel guilty for this over-indulgence!
The consistency of the dressing was as I like it. I have said before that it was creamy – and this is true - , but it certainly wasn’t too thick. Neither was it too thin. I wouldn’t change a thing about the consistency of this. Perhaps the only thing I would criticise was the ratio of salad: dressing. I did feel that the salad was perhaps slightly too wet. I don’t mean to give the impression that the leaves were drowned and soggy – this isn’t true – but I did think that it would have been improved if there was a little less dressing to slick the leaves and collect in pools at the bottom of the bowl. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have added the *whole* bowl. I wouldn’t want it reduced by much, but I would certainly add a few tablespoons less next time I make this.
Thinking about the recipe in Feast, I can’t imagine that I would prefer that version. For one thing, I would miss the spicy depth of the Dijon mustard – and I don’t like the thought of the graininess that the wholegrain mustard would bring to that smooth velvetiness. Omitting the crème fraiche would surely be a travesty. Where else would you get all that creamy, velvety unctuousness? I am unsure about the addition of honey. I like honey, so would be tempted to add some for its sweetness, but in all honesty, I don’t think that this lacks anything from its omission. So I think I’ll be sticking to my faithful HTE for dressing recipes for now.
I have mentioned that this salad worked perfectly as part of our whole meal, but I should probably tell you how those other elements were. The chicken drumsticks and wings with orange tomato glaze were absolutely wonderful. They were slow-cooked, which made them crispy, blackened, syrupy and juicy. The sweet potatoes were also heavenly. They were soft, tender and perfectly cooked and lightly spiced, which gave them a smoky mellowness. I couldn’t name my favourite thing on the table; everything just worked so well together.
So, all in all, this was the perfect salad for the perfect meal. I am very grateful to Nigella for providing the recipe and I will make it many times over. Indeed, it threatens to become my standby, failsafe dressing.
(The chicory salad all ready to go)
Other person’s perspective: Before I tell you Chris’s opinion, I am going to embarrass him by mentioning his shocking dinner etiquette! After we had cleared our plates, he spent a good few minutes scooping up the remaining dressing with the last few chicory leaves and eating them!
Chris said that this was *the* best salad to serve with what we were eating. It cut through the sweetness of the chicken and sweet potato – it refreshed the mouth. He did say that the salad was amazing and that he would have it with anything. He especially liked the flavour of the mustard and adored the peppery chicory itself and said that he loved the colours.
(Sweet potato wedges from Meat and Two Veg by Fiona Beckett)
(Chicken drumsticks and wings with orange tomato glaze from Apples for Jam by Tessa Kiros)
Future changes: Personally, I would add slightly less dressing. I wouldn’t reduce it by a lot mind you. A third less, for example, would be perfect. Chris wouldn’t change a thing. When asked, he said this was perfect as is.
(My plate; chicory and mustard salad, chicken and sweet potatoes)
Rating: A 5/5 from me and 4/5 from Chris, so it receives 4 ½ / 5.
