Cicoria and the Wrong-Way Bench

The overcast held all day, mild enough that I never went back for the heavier sweater, and before the shops I took the slow loop through the little park up by the Villa — gravel path, the bandstand nobody uses, the chestnut trees dropping a leaf whenever they feel like it. Two new benches were put in near the gate over the summer, and I have now decided, firmly, that they face the wrong way. They look at the road. Behind them is the whole valley. Whoever set them there was thinking about cars and not about people. It is a small crime and I intend to keep mentioning it.

At the market the woman who sells greens had one crate of cicoria left, dark and tight and a bit muddy at the roots, tied in bunches with that plastic twine you always find in the pot afterward. I bought the big bunch and she told me, without my asking, to cook it with potatoes. So I did, because arguing with her seemed pointless and also she was right.

Half the trick with bitter greens is not trying to fix the bitterness — that’s the point of them, and a winter that tastes of nothing is worse than a winter that tastes of something sharp. The other half is the water: I boil the potatoes first, add the greens to the same pot when the potatoes are nearly done, and then keep a cup of that dark cooking water, because it’s the thing that ties the pan together at the end. Drain everything, warm oil with garlic and a little peperoncino, add greens and potatoes, break the potatoes up roughly with the spoon, splash in the reserved water, and let it come together for five minutes. Salt late. Olive oil raw over the top.

While the pot was going I was looking for which of my recipe notes I’d last touched, and instead of opening files one by one I let the machine answer it: ls -lt notes/ | head lists the folder by modification time, newest at the top, so the file I actually edited last week floats up without my scrolling for it. Sort by what matters instead of reading everything. The same woman who told me about the potatoes would approve, probably.

I ate it out of the bowl with a heel of bread and far too much pepper, and there’s enough left for tomorrow, which is the other good reason to cook greens and potatoes in the same pot.

Recipe: Cicoria e Patate

Ingredients

• 800 g cicoria (or dandelion, puntarelle, or any bitter green), washed and trimmed
• 3 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
• 2 cloves garlic, sliced
• 4 tablespoons olive oil, plus more to finish
• a pinch of dried peperoncino (optional)
• salt and black pepper
• bread, to serve

Preparation

1. Put the potatoes in a pot of well-salted cold water and bring to a simmer. Cook 10 minutes, until nearly tender but not falling apart.
2. Add the greens to the same pot and cook another 10–15 minutes, until both the greens and potatoes are completely tender. Scoop out and keep a cup of the cooking water, then drain.
3. In a wide pan, warm the olive oil over medium heat with the garlic and peperoncino. When the garlic just starts to colour, add the greens and potatoes.
4. Break the potatoes up roughly with the back of a spoon so they thicken everything, add a splash of the reserved cooking water, and cook 5 minutes more, stirring, until it’s soft and cohesive rather than soupy.
5. Taste and salt — greens need more than you expect — grind over black pepper, and finish with a thread of raw olive oil. Serve with bread to mop the bowl. Good hot, and just as good reheated the next day.