Conscious Choice: Lettuce Pray

May 2000 | Cooking with the Seasons

Lettuce Pray

by Terra Brockman

"How many things by season season’d are..." — The Merchant of Venice, V, i, 107

Why, a friend asked when she learned I was writing this column, is it important to cook with the seasons?

The question gave me pause. Coming from generations of farmers, I’d always taken it as a given. But why, in this glorious age of year-round, jet-shipped tomatoes from Israel, grapes from Chile, and lemons from Florida should we limit ourselves to cooking with the seasons? After some thought and research, I found there are many answers — some leaning toward the spiritual, some toward the scientific. The short answer is: We are part of nature, and nature is part of us. Cooking with the seasons sustains a connection as old as our species.

It also sustains a connection as immediate and intimate as any — the placing of something from outside inside. If you are about to put something into your body, or the bodies of your loved ones, you should know where it came from, who grew it, and how. That is difficult these days. (Have you ever wondered why there are so few vegetables grown on the rich prairies of the Midwest? The answers could fill a book.) The sad fact is that the average produce item found in U.S. grocery stores today has traveled 1,500 miles from its roots. How many gallons of fuel, how much fouling of air and water did it take to bring you that tomato? And who grew it? Under what conditions? Even that reassuring sticker, "Certified Organic," loses credibility after 1,500 miles. After all, while the dotcom economy booms, farmers struggle to survive. One might be tempted to do a few deals to get the sticker and earn three times as much.

Eating seasonally means you are more likely to be eating locally. In doing so, you are getting produce from someone you know and trust and you are keeping local family farms alive. In return, you are getting flavor and freshness. "Freshness" is not just a fuzzy feel-good word of ad-speak. It is crucial. Studies show a steep decline in nutritional value from the moment produce is plucked from the field. If you eat it within twenty-four hours, you get significantly more vitamins and phytochemicals. A tomato picked days, even weeks ago, and shipped (even in refrigerated trucks or cargo holds) pollutes the environment on its long way to us, and then adds injury to insult by delivering only a fraction of its original nutritional content.

And then there’s the spiritual side of the story. When you eat local seasonal produce, you are ingesting something that basked in the same sun as you did, was bathed in the same rains, and thrived on the same air. This spiritual side of cooking with local produce, especially wild plants, was elucidated for me recently by Odessa Piper, chef of L’Etoile in Madison, Wisconsin. The first thing she gives to every guest at L’Etoile is a Hickory Nut Shaman — a nutty wafer with a dot of herbed midwest chevre holding a toasted salted hickory nut. "I call them Shamans," Piper says, "because I believe that local, wild foods embody a great wisdom. They possess the spirit of the place they grow, and impart that blessing to us on a very fundamental level."

So there’s the answer. Cooking with the season imparts fundamental blessings — flavor, nutrition, and a physical and spiritual connection to our farmers, our communities, our ancestors, and our earth.

This spring, make the connection. Search out and use what the season has to offer: asparagus, sorrel, spinach, parsley, cilantro, scallions, chives, broccoli, kohlrabi, peas, rhubarb, radishes, and...lettuce!

Lettuce — It’s Not Just for Salads Anymore

For me, lettuce has always had mysterious religious overtones about it — even after I realized that the pastor at our church wasn’t saying "Lettuce pray." Maybe I just feel humbly thankful that I was able to live past the Great Iceberg Hegemony and into the Lettuce Renaissance. My brother is growing more than thirty-five kinds of lettuce this year, with names like Hyper Red Rumple Waved, Batavia Blonde, and Outredgeous. Even mainstream grocery stores now carry tender Boston, crunchy Romaine, delicate Frisee, buttery Bibb, and silken Endive.

A wonderful part of the Lettuce Renaissance has been the Heirloom Renaissance — a rediscovering of nonhybrid varieties of lettuce, many of which came to this country with our immigrant ancestors and were grown year after year in backyard gardens. These heirloom varieties may not be as bright green or as long-lasting in the refrigerator. But what you get instead are distinctive flavors — and colors and patterns that would have made Monet paint heads of lettuce instead of water lilies.

Many heirloom varieties are a delicate green speckled or splotched with red, lavender, or even gold. They have names that tell of their origins: Rouge d’Hiver is a French heirloom; Forellenschluss is Austrian. My pronunciation problems with Forellenschluss led to a conversation with Ivan Whitkov, a painter and regular customer at the Evanston Farmer’s Market, who corrected me and explained that forelle means "trout" and schluss means "end" or "closure." He suggested the recipe below for trout wrapped in lettuce leaves and served to the music of Schubert’s Trout Quintet.

As Ivan and others know, lettuce isn’t just for salad anymore. It is also delicious as a sandwich spread (think pesto made with lettuce!); in soups, hot and cold; braised as a side dish, or as a wrapping for fish. All lettuce is very low in calories and most is rich in calcium, iron, and vitamins A and C. Because it is so low in calories, you can eat vast quantities and still feel righteous.

Lettuce is a cool-weather crop and it is perfect in May and June, and again in September and October. Pick through it carefully as you wash, discarding any wilted, bruised, or broken leaves (they are a breeding ground for bacteria and will soon turn your lettuce to slime). As with all produce, try to get it as soon as possible after it has been picked, and then eat it within a day or two for maximum flavor and nutrition.

Lettuce Sandwich Spread

There are not many farmer’s markets where my brother has bags of mesclun left over at the end of the day. But there was one Saturday when the rain was coming down so hard that all but the most devoted (or demented) customers stayed home. So I ended up taking a dozen bags and soon realized I wasn’t even going to make a dent in them if all I ate was salad. So one evening I just threw two bags of it into the food processor with a little oil and vinegar. I then slathered the mixture on a slice of hearty wheat bread and voila! An incredible sandwich and a way to use many bags of lettuce.

1-2 cloves garlic (optional)
1 hot Thai pepper (optional)
1/2 pound mesclun (or lettuce of any variety—spicy greens such as watercress or arugula add a nice bite)
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1. Wash the lettuce. Dry it in a salad spinner or spread the leaves on a towel and gently roll it up. It is important to dry it well so that you don’t end up with soup.

2. Put the garlic cloves and hot pepper in the food processor and chop fine. Add the dry lettuce, oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper. Use the on/off button to process until the leaves are in uniformly small pieces but not liquefied. Spread thickly on a sandwich of your choice. I find it works well alone, or with a slab of fresh mozzarella, sharp cheddar, or Jarlsberg.

Hot Lettuce Soup

2 medium heads Bibb or Salad Bowl lettuce (about 3/4 pound total)
3 cups chicken broth (or use 3 cups water and 3 tablespoons miso)
1 cup water

2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Freshly grated nutmeg
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1. Slice lettuce into thin shreds. In a three-quart saucepan, gently simmer lettuce, broth, and water, covered, for forty minutes.

2. In a blender, purée soup in batches with butter, nutmeg, salt, and pepper until smooth, transferring the blended mixture to another saucepan as you go. Heat soup over moderately high heat until it just begins to simmer. Serve immediately.

Cold Minted Lettuce Soup

This is a refreshing treat for the first hot days of spring and summer.

4 cups packed torn lettuce leaves of any variety
1-1/2 cups buttermilk
1/2 cup packed fresh mint leaves
Pinch of sugar
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1. Wash and gently dry the lettuce. Place it in a blender, along with the buttermilk, mint, and sugar. Blend until smooth.

2. Transfer the soup to a bowl, season it with salt and pepper, and chill, covered, for one hour before serving.

Brook Trout Poached in Lettuce

(adapted from Ivan Whitkov and The New Basics Cookbook)

3 cups water
1 cup white wine
2 tablespoons fresh snipped chives
1 tablespoon fresh chopped dill
1 tablespoon fresh chopped tarragon
1 teaspoon salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 strip lemon zest
6 large leaves of Forellenshluss or Romaine
2 fresh brook trout, 10-12 ounces each (gutted weight)
3 tablespoons butter
Lemon wedges for garnish

1. In a large pot, bring the water, wine, herbs, spices, and lemon zest to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer ten minutes.

2. Gently wrap each trout in three overlapping leaves of Forellenschluss or Romaine. Secure with toothpicks. Lower into the liquid. Simmer ten minutes for each inch of thickness of the fish.

3. Using two spatulas, gently lift each trout out and place it on a warmed dinner plate. Gently release the lettuce leaves and spread open, revealing the fish.

4. Blend the butter with two-three tablespoons of the cooking liquid and spoon over the fish.

5. Serve with lemon wedges and Die Forelle, The Trout Quintet for piano and strings by Franz Schubert.

Lettuce Salad with Classic Vinaigrette

So as not to slight salads altogether, here is what Elizabeth David, the wonderful British food writer, has to say: "There are only three absolutely essential rules to be observed: the lettuce must be very fresh; the vinegar in the dressing must be reduced to the absolute minimum; the dressing must be mixed with the lettuce only at the moment of serving."

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar or fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon coarse sea salt
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
1/2 pound mesclun salad mix or lettuce of your choice

In a small bowl, whisk together the mustard, vinegar (or lemon juice), and salt. Continue whisking and add the olive oil a drop at a time. As the vinaigrette emulsifies and thickens, add the oil in a steady stream, whisking constantly. Add pepper to taste. Pour over salad and toss well.

Terra Brockman is the director of The Land Connection Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to preserving farmland and promoting small-scale, diversified, organic agriculture in Illinois. Visit www.thelandconnection.org or call 309-965-2407 to learn how to get involved.

Recommend this page to a friend

Top Ten pages recommended to friends: