A postscript on spring greens from Jane Grigson
“She thought food was the key to unlocking life,” Sophie Grigson
How could I have forgotten to look in Jane Grigson's Vegetable Book when I was talking about spring greens yesterday? It came to me in the middle of the night that I should look her up on the subject. And when I was browsing the shelves for something else - inspiration mostly - I did indeed find a piece on Spring and Winter Greens. It was so good that I am about to quote great chunks of it.
There are no glossy pictures in her books, but each section in her Vegetable Book, has a rather lovely line drawing by one Yvonne Skargon. (I wonder what happened to her?) This is the one for Spring and Winter Greens - and here is most of Jane Grigson's piece on them.
"A number of leafy vegetable are referred to loosely as 'greens'. "Eat up your greens, Finish your greens", they said to us when we were small. Greens were never asparagus or tiny French beans or sugar peas, but the nastier aspects of the cabbage class.
Kale I have always hated though curly kale will pass. I have a slight affection for sprout tops, but this is because I can buy them in Marlborough market in tip-top freshness and because one of the Italian members of the family has shown me a fine way of finishing them. ... In the early months of the year spring greens come along, cabbages that have failed to develop a heart. Heartlessness is never a desirable quality, but they will pass too. ...
It goes without saying that there is no point in buying any of these varieties of herbage unless it is beautifully fresh, with the dew on it. Or to be truthful the drops of morning rain and fog. Once the leaves flag, such pleasure as they might have given is no longer to be hoped for.
As to their treatment, you can look at it two different ways. If you dislike them and only give them to the family to do them good (or to work off your sadistic impulses), you may well resent lavishing trouble and buttery attentions on them. On the other hand you may take the view that anything you put on the table should be treated with the best means and skill you can bring to the job. Seeing that few of us are desperate for vitamins and do not need stoking up with greenery like sheep in a kale field, I feel that there is something to be said for the second attitude.
The first thing is to buy in generous quantity. Greens are cheap enough. This means you can be ruthless in cutting out tough and stringy stalks, keeping only the best leaves.
When you have washed and picked them over, range them on a chopping board with all the heads together at one end. Cut the greens across if necessary to get them into the pan. Put on some salted water - about 1cm or a little more, and when it's at a rolling boil, put in the stalk ends of the greenery, with the more delicate leaves on top so that they steam. Jam on the lid and leave to boil vigorously. After five minutes test one of the thicker pieces and take the pan off the heat when you judge that the stalks are just cooked. Drain in a colander. In a wide frying pan melt a good knob of butter, with a little chopped onion and garlic. Cook over a low heat to soften the onion, but do not let it boil. Put in the well drained greens and stir them about, raising the heat slightly. Put them into a hot serving dish and stir in a knob of fresh butter."
So there you go - the definitive way to cook spring greens. And so entertainingly written. At the same time as it gives me enormous pleasure it makes me want to give up as I just cannot compete.
I have written about Jane Grigson before in an A Word From ... post but whilst looking for an appropriate picture I came across a few other words about her and from her which are worth offering up for your perusal.
"Good Things, which I think her best. It does what a good cookbook should, which is to lure you into the kitchen.” Jeremy Lee - chef Quo Vadis, London
"the delightful anecdotes, the little gasps along the way!” Jeremy Lee,
chef at Quo Vadis, London
“Perhaps people think of her as housewifely, You see, Jane is very practical, she wants to give you information, whereas with Elizabeth [David] it’s more a case of going to Amalfi to buy some lemons.” Simon Hopkinson
“Food has the tact to disappear, leaving the room and opportunity for masterpieces to come. The mistakes don’t hang on the walls or stand on the shelves to reproach you for ever.” Jane Grigson
