Elinor Bachrach Hutton

View Original

Health, Happiness, and Horta

Radish greens, chard, spinach, and kale. 

Unusual vegetable preparations have been all the rage in the last few years, especially given the rise of veganism and vegetarianism. While there are some really creative ideas circulating, going to another cookbook shoot where we make a salad with raw Chioggia beets, or roast beets with the greens still attached (so pretty on the baking sheet), or pickle beet stems might be one too many. I don’t need to read another article talking about carrot ash, or cauliflower steaks, or ramp pesto (or for that matter ramps in any form). I get it! There’s a lot of cool, complicated stuff one can do with vegetables.

But what about simple preparations? When it comes to greens—the kale, spinach, or chard that my mother has indoctrinated me into eating piles of, obsessively, for health—I find myself lacking in ideas. I most often sauté them with chili flakes, garlic and olive oil, and, if I’m feeling fancy, raisins and nuts. They’re delicious. And some you can eat raw (yes, yes, kale salads, I know). But recently, I was on the hunt for something new.  Something easier, frankly. And something I could do ahead of time for a dinner party.

Then horta came into my life. Horta is a Greek dish that should be common. Simply put, it’s boiled greens, cooled down, and dressed with lemon juice and olive oil. But it really has the essence of greens in the best way. It’s simple, nutritious, and eaten cold or room temp—so you can make piles ahead of time and eat it all week. You can pull it out of the fridge a few minutes, or a few hours, before guests arrive, and you are ready to go. Healthwise, having a bowl of this around is money in the bank. Your mother will be pleased. And so will you.

Know when you go to the farmer’s market and they are selling enormous bunches of greens for a discount if you buy more than one? I cannot ever resist this. (This is 35, I guess.) But I have a very small fridge, so I often cannot literally cram all of the greens inside when I get home. Horta is a great recipe for those times—a way of processing the greens so they take up less room, and of course, are ready to eat. I like to do a huge batch, and wash it all directly in the stoppered sink.* You can use any greens, or any combination, a great way to use up any bits and bobs from your produce drawer. De-stemmed chard** is a current favorite because of how silky the leaves get, but really anything will work: escarole, dandelion greens, kale, amaranth, spinach, etc. Did you buy radishes (or beets, or turnips) at the market as well? Be sure to cut off the greens and chuck them into the sink with the rest. Boil the greens, drain them,*** then dress them with lemon juice and olive oil. These greens will not likely be the next big thing trending on Instagram, but make no mistake, they’ll be a staple, just waiting in the fridge for you to eat them.

Horta

Wash the greens of your choice: dandelion, escarole, kale, spinach, chard, beet greens, turnip greens, radish tops, and/or amaranth. If applicable, remove large ribs and save for another use.** Bring a pot of water to a boil and lightly salt it. Add the clean greens to the boiling water and cook until tender. Drain (saving the cooking liquid for another use***), rinse with cold water, squeeze dry, and chop roughly. In the bottom of a bowl, mix together lemon juice, twice as much olive oil, a squeeze of honey, and a pinch of salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes, if you like. Add the chopped greens and toss thoroughly. Eat immediately, or refrigerate and eat another time, cold, room temperature, or heated up. 

* Cleaning greens is the worst. If I had a child it would be the first kitchen task I teach them.

** What to do with the chard stems? Don’t pitch them, but also don’t chop them and add them to the horta, as I have…it’s nicer to include just leaves in the horta, without the added texture of the ribs. You can use the ribs a bunch of ways: chop them and add them to your next stir fry (texturally like celery, but more colorful), add them to soup (soften them with your onions), or sauté them then fold them into a frittata or still scrambling eggs for a taco filling--just add Cholula.

*** Do not pitch the cooking liquid! This is really like potlikker, famous in the American South. It’s a bit intimidating looking—a little dark and muddy—but it’s delicious and incredibly good for you. Drink it straight up (even cold—I add a pinch of salt and red pepper flakes), use as a base for soup, or make your next batch of rice (or jambalaya) with it as the liquid. I’ve made an especially good mushroom-barley risotto with it too--those more earthy ingredients stood up to the color and richness of the broth really well.