Two gorgeous gratins

EATING IN:Bitter-tasting Belgian endive likes to big itself up. And it can indeed be very tasty, just as long as you "cook the bejasus out of it".

SEARCHING ONLINE FOR nutritional things to say about Belgian endive, I was stunned to see that this vegetable has its own website – which I thought was kind of vain for bitter-tasting leaves that many people aren’t crazy about. Talk about self-promotion.

But it got worse as I read: it was like the Madonna of vegetables, the site declaring that genuine Belgian endive “isn’t any one thing. It’s everything”.

“Steady on, lads,” I thought, “you’re just a vegetable.” But clearly not as, according to belgianendive.com, “genuine Belgian endive ranks with the great wines, truffles, caviar and the best saffron”. Now hang on a second. You’re a vegetable with several names (chicory and witlof being the others) and many people dislike you intensely. Let’s calm down, step away from the website, and think about this.

Personally speaking, I like slicing a few leaves of endive into salads because it gives a wintery zing that’s in keeping with frosty weather. But my favourite method of preparation is to fry it in a little butter and olive oil and then braise it, once coloured.

In other words, it’s good to cook the bejayzus out of it. Hence, this Belgian endive, “croque monsieur”, so to speak, was really tasty and even the child ate a few bites and declared it “okay”.

It took a good battering, cooking-wise as, after we photographed it, I left it in the fridge for two days and reheated it, thinking it would be completely overcooked – but it was just as tasty, just with a lot less firmness. Anything that can take that much fridge/oven abuse is always popular in my household.

The other gratin was lovely, although the recipe was nearly too simple to bother with. It’s based on one from Michelin-starred Edinburgh chef Tom Kitchin’s book, From Nature to Plate. Those wanting a pommes dauphinoise with more edge will love the earthiness of this. The beetroot turned what could have been a humble gratin into a gorgeous kaleidoscope of root vegetable colour.

But please remember that it needs lots of seasoning as flavours are bare to say the least, and you need the salt to bring out the nutmeg and the earthiness of the root veg.

The recipe makes enough to do a relatively thin layer, but it’s very rich and sumptuous, so don’t panic if you think it’s a bit too flat when layering up the vegetables. This would be gorgeous with a roast, or even on its own.

Belgian endive “croque monsieur”

(serves four)

8 Belgian endive

40g butter

Salt and pepper

150g cooked ham, diced

200ml cream

250ml stock

2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed

Few sprigs thyme

150g Gruyère, grated

Heat an oven to 200 degrees/gas five. Slice the endive in half lengthways. Melt the butter in a large frying pan and fry the endive, flat side down, for a few minutes until it’s starting to brown. Season well and then transfer it to a gratin dish.

You may need to fry them in two or three batches, depending on the size of your frying pan, and you may need more butter. Once you’ve browned off all the endive and have them neatly lined up in the gratin dish, top them with the ham. Heat up the cream and stock in the frying pan, then add the garlic and thyme leaves.

When hot and tasty, pour on top of the endive, top with the Gruyère and bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown. You may want to baste the endive halfway through cooking. Serve with some bread and salad for a tasty supper dish.

Celeriac and beetroot gratin

(serves four to six)

Big knob butter

300 ml cream

Few scrapes of nutmeg

½ head celeriac

1 large beetroot

½ turnip

Plenty of salt and pepper

Heat an oven to 150 degrees/gas two. Grease a 32x24-centimetre rectangular gratin dish. Bring the cream just to the boil with a few scrapes of nutmeg and lots of salt and pepper. Set aside.

Peel the vegetables and slice them as thinly as you can. My mandolin broke, so I’m not talking about newspaper-thin slices – just slice slowly and carefully. Layer them up whatever way you like, then pour the cream on top and bake for 90 minutes or until very soft.

If it’s starting to brown too much, you can cover with foil, but the oven is moderate, so it should be okay for that long. Allow it to rest for 10 minutes before slicing and serving. Gorgeous on its own or with a roast.

dkemp@irishtimes.com See also itsa.ie