Braisin' the grass: braised endive

Ok, full disclosure here: Annalena did NOT expect this recipe to work, and it's the kind of dish that will not appeal to everyone. Having said that, I will add that it's easy, it's delicious, and apparently, it has a pedigree (but what does Annalena know of pedigree).
Background here: years ago, my friend Frank, the wine guy, also known as "The god of tannins" would publish notes with the wines he sold. They would frequently include food items to serve with the wine. One wine included a serving suggestion of "braised endive."

HUH? I mean, REALLY. To me, that was like writing "red wine with cheez doodles, white wine with potato chips (which sounds like a good rule to me, by the way). First of all, I had never even thought that one could braise endive. I knew it, as most people do, as one of those high fallutin salad greens. It's got an odd shape: almost like an alien pod of some kind, and a weird, pale ghostly greenish/white color. It took me a while to like it in salads, but now I do. There is something funky about the way it grows, and I'm not sure I have this right, but if you let it get sunlight, it turns into leafy chicory, but if you keep it in darkness, you get endive (if anyone can verify or disprove that, PLEASE). Now, you can get red endives too. I don't taste any difference, but the color is there.

Oh, back to Frank. Well, endive is a very Belgian (or, Flemish) vegetable, and Frank is Belgian (or, Flemish), so when he spoke of braised endive, I probably should have asked "how do you make that?" instead of my less than gracious "HUH??? ARE YOU KIDDING?" Well, Frank never answered that one, and it all went away.

Until about 2 years ago when I was watching Jacques Pepin cook on television (incidentally, you should ALWAYS watch Jacques Pepin cook if you can: you will learn more in fifteen minutes than you would from anyone else, including moi, over days). He made braised endive. I should have copied down the recipe, but I didn't.

Now, let's come up to the present. Over the course of Friday and Saturday, I bought WAY too many salad greens, including endives. At this time of year, salad greens ain't cheap, and I am committed to using what's in the fridge. So.... as I was embarking on making our Sunday lunch roast chicken, I spied those endives, and thought about salad.

And then.... Yes, these things take a while to percolate, but braising came back to me. See, Annalena has learned much about braising in the last few years, and now she defines it as cooking in a closed pot, with liquid, at low heat. It can take a long time, but it doesn't have to. And so, I braised endive. And I liked it. Now, you try it. Here's what you do.

You can fit about eight length wise halves of endive in a big, deep frying pan, and that's what you should work with. Make sure it's a pan that has a tight fitting lid. Get four medium sized endives (look at the different sizes in the produce bin. Pick the middle sized ones), and cut them in half, lengthwise. That will serve to keep them whole. Melt a tablespoon of butter in that pan, with an equal amount of vegetable oil. When it's melted, put the endive halves in, cut side down. Do something as you put them in, that was a good reminder for Annalena, when she saw Nadja G do this on tv this weekend: the fat probably will not cover the whole of the pan. So, swirl each half in the fat as you put it in the pan, to make sure that every piece gets some of it. Cook this at medium high, for a patient five minutes or so. Check by turning the last one you put in over. If it has some nice color, you're set to move on. If not, keep waiting.

Add about a teaspoon of salt, and a quarter cup of wine (or chicken stock, or vegetable stock), to the pan, cover it, and turn the heat up WAY HIGH. Keep it at the high heat for about two minutes, then lower it to medium for another five or so. Pull out the vegetables, and increase the heat to reduce the liquid, then pour that over the endives.

This is a "knife and fork vegetable," that does have some tenderness to it. It also picks up the taste of whatever braising liquid you use. Keep that in mind, if you're not a fan of the wine you're about to put in the pan.

It did go well with the chicken. Frank and Jacques, I'm sorry. You were right.