Three less than common vegetables: radicchio, dragon tongue beans, and amaranth greens

Annalena loves it when she takes a walk through the farmers market, and finds something new, or "sort of" new. It gives her a chance to talk to the farmers, learn something new, and perhaps come up with new culinary ideas. If you see something at the market that you don't know, ask, bring some home, and cook with it. It's a pleasure that you shouldn't be denying yourself, and if you wait, you may not get the chance for another year, if at all.

And if you don't know what to do with the ingredient, think about similar ingredients, or get on the web. That's what today is all about: 3 vegetables that you may not know (Annalena did not know the fresh dragon tongue beans), and how to address them.

The beans first. One of my favorite farmers is "Dave." I don't know him by any other name. He's authentic, and that's the highest praise Annalena can pay to someone. He has a small farm, I only see him on Saturdays, and I make it a point to stop there and buy "something." IF he will let me buy something. See, Dave is one of the folks we feed, and he often will not take money. That's how things work at these markets you know.

Anyway, last week, he had fresh dragon tongue beans. Annalena knew them from their dried form, but had never seen them fresh.
I think they are named as they are, because the mottling on the pods, which are brown, with deeper brown "mottles," look a lot like lizard tongues. But who knows? When I held one between my fingers, I could tell that they were a little bit tougher than green beans, but the pods were certainly edible. A check on the internet when I came back home proved this out. Well, Dave did not know them in dried form, so we both learned something (Of course, Nevia, the goddess of vegetables, knew them).
I knew that I would be cooking them in the way I cook Roma beans - those big, flat green beans you see sometime. They would need a bit more time than regular green beans, but not nearly the time that a dried bean would take. And that proved to be correct. Here's how they were done: simply, but SO good: take a pound of fresh beans (and you can get other varieties besides dragon tongue: trust your senses, and ASK YOUR FARMER), and put them into about an inch of salted, boiling water. Let them cook until they feel done, to your touch (we all have different approaches to what is a "cooked" bean. It's your call). While that's happening, chop up about four cloves of garlic, real fine, and if you have some fresh basil, get a few leaves of that, too. When the beans are done, drain them, and in the pot with the heat off (the heat from the pot is sufficient), add the garlic, the basil, and about four tablespoons of your best olive oil.
These were terrific the first night, and even better as a left over. Lest I forget, the beans lose the mottling in cooking, and cook to this gorgeous ecru color. Quite pretty on the plate.

Now, to amaranth. You've seen amaranth grain, and you've probably seen the big, heavy red flower heads. If you bring the flowers home, you'd best put a big sheet of paper underneath the vase, because they will start dropping seeds, and if you walk around barefoot, like Annalena does, your tootsies will be very angry at you after a while. The greens for amaranth, are beautiful. The leaves are heart shaped, and have a sort of rosy center that explodes out over the leaf. Do a google on the word, and you'll see what I mean.
I brought home a couple of bunches of the stuff, and noticed that the stems were tougher than say, spinach, but not as tough as something like chard. What that means to me, as a cook, is that I use the stems, but I'm going to need to adapt my cooking, and do a classic sear/braise. Here's what this means: clean off any part of the plant that looks and feels too tough to eat, and if you have any doubts, well.. test it. I'm serious about that. If you are wondering with a green, take a stem, put it between your teeth. If you're going to have to act like a cross between a beaver and an elephant to eat it, the stem is too tough. Many greens that have stems that are edible, do have portions that are not. Think broccoli raab, for example.
Ok, having determined and gotten rid of what is not edible, put a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a big pan, and when it's hot, add your greens. The leaves will cook down almost immediately, but the stems....
Well, to fix that, now put a quarter cup of water into the pan, cover it, and lower the heat to medium. The leaves will be ok, and the stems will cook to the point where they're plenty edible. This is a strong tasting green, so I finished them with sesame oil. You should pick the flavoring you like.

Now, to radicchio. You are probably thinking something along the lines of "get real, this is NOT an unusual vegetable". Well, it is if you think outside of the salad bowl, and that's what we're going to do here.
I have commented before, and if you've tasted it, you know whereof I speak, of the surprising bitterness of radicchio. That bitterness disappears, and becomes a sweetness, if you cook it. You can grill it if you have an outdoor grill, but for those of us who don't....
Quarter your heads of radicchio, and then get them, cut side down, into a pan which has a few tablespoons of olive oil in it. Don't add garlic here, unless you want to. The vegetable will lose its vibrant purple color and become a little brown, which is fine. At the very end of the cooking , step back and add a few tablespoons of regular balsamic vinegar (not the expensive stuff) or, if you have it, blueberry gastrique (go back and look at the entry on that). Or, anything that has a sweet/sour combination that you have in the house. Honey with lime juice might work, for example, or if you have that bottle of fig vinegar that someone gave you at Xmas that you don't know what to do with.

This is wonderful with some grilled chops, or even on its own over some pasta, with some cheese added on top.

Spread your wings a little. Don't fall into a farmers market rut. You'll make some good friends along the way, as you ask the farmers "what do I do with..."