From purple broccoli to white asparagus, here are 10 very different veggies and how to use them.
Romanesco cauliflower
A bonkers and beautiful brassica (pictured above), this vegetable has to be one of the world’s most eye-catching foods. Resembling a forest of tiny fir trees (with a garish colour that looks like someone went mad with a spray gun), it’s also got mathematicians in spin over its florescent fractals: the individual buds are said to trace a logarithmic spiral. PhDs aside, it tastes pretty good too – a cross between cauliflower and broccoli (some call it caulibroc or broccoflower) – and it holds its shape better than normal varieties when cooked. Best steamed rather than boiled to retain the striking colour; pair its nutty flavour with a shaving of good Italian cheese.
The loveFOOD guide to cabbages and brassicas
This grow-in-the-dark veg, dubbed ‘edible ivory’ or ‘white gold’, is the beluga caviar of the vegetable world and gets its name from the way it is grown. Planted deeper underground than normal asparagus, and protected from sunlight, photosynthesis never occurs so it’s harvested in its pearly white state. It’s got cult status in the US, France and Germany, but what you gain in flavour (it’s said to be sweeter) you tend to lose in texture. So these tougher, more fibrous albino stems need an extra five-minutes cooking time.
Once described as ‘Humpty Dumpty hiding in a hedge’, this vegetable sputnik might not win prizes in the looks department but it’s often underestimated in the kitchen. A cross between turnip and broccoli in terms of flavour (it's officially a brassica rather than a root), it can be blanched, boiled, roasted and baked. Avoid any kohlrabi bigger than a golf ball to get the best texture and flavour, and always peel. Use in any recipe where you’d use turnip: it’s fabulous in a curry, pepped-up with cardamom and coconut milk.
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Looking like an elongated muddy-brown parsnip and tasting faintly of shellfish (it’s also called ‘oyster plant’) – it’s easy to see why this knobby root fell out of fashion in the 20th century. But it’s making a comeback. With its long tap root (it hails from the dandelion family), crispy white flesh and subtle flavour, it makes a marvellous mash and can also be sliced or grated into a makeshift remoulade. Lavish with a quick-and-easy gremolata (finely chopped parsley, garlic and lemon zest) and you might just become a convert.
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Not to be confused with the feathery herb, Florence fennel, also known as ‘finocchio’ or Italian fennel, is prized for its fat, bulbous base rather than its leaves. The shorter, dumpier cousin of sleek celery, but what it lacks in stature it makes up for in soft, sweet aniseed flavour. Look for small, tender white bulbs and shred into salads, stocks or soups. Roasting really brings out its richness: simply scoop out the soft warm flesh from its crispy casing. British fennel tends to be in short supply until the end of June (it needs warm temperature to swell) and before this it will generally be imported from Italy.
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With all the ancestry and allure of ‘Champagne rhubarb’, this prickly cabbage – a native of the North Sea coast – is all but inedible until darkness turns its metallic-purple leaves a nutty, pale yellow. Once the perk of the fisherman’s wife (it’s said they would cover plants in shingle and harvest the blanched tips for market), overharvesting in the 19th century led to a complete ban on picking it in the wild. So you’ll need to get your fix from Eassie Farm in Angus, the UK’s only remaining producer (or grow/force your own). Try its nutty, sweet leaves steamed with herbs and butter.
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Image: Anne Burgess [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Also known as witloof (white leaf), or endive, this torpedo shaped salad leaf brightens dull days with its vivid white leaves and yellow tips. Its bitter taste is not everyone’s cup of tea – or should that be coffee: it was once used as a replacement for coffee beans in the US when coffee became too costly – and has been grown here since the Victorian era. Its modern-day growing environment is closer to science fiction than natural science, however. Reared hydroponically in darkness, it’s harvested, trimmed and packed so the plants are only in the light for 10 minutes. Eat raw (if you dare) or bake young leaves in béchamel with crispy bacon.
Compared to asparagus for its delicate flavour and short season (generally February to April), this veg offers tender flowery florets rather than tight bundles of blossom like its cousin calabrese. A relative newcomer to the UK, only grown here for the last 30 years, it’s a gardener’s winter stalwart when other veg sleep. Best crisp and young when it has tousled dark-purple heads, trim any woody bits and steam, dip in butter and lemon juice or fry with garlic and pancetta.
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It’s easy to snub celeriac. The effort it takes to whittle out the soil from its many nooks and crannies can overwhelm most vegetable peelers (and the most diligent cooks) and by the end of your efforts, your tennis ball-sized root is more like a marble. Thankfully, most supermarket types have been given a good scrub – and peel away the rough exterior and you’ll be rewarded with gorgeously nude white flesh that is fabulous grated, baked or roasted. Related to wild celery, celeriac is best from October to April and its nutty flavour adds a punch to stews, soups and stocks.
Celeriac, sprouts and bacon soup recipe
Long associated with the colder months, tuberous Jerusalem artichokes are in fact abundant from November right up to April. So while their earthy, fragrant (almost indescribable) flavour suits a hearty winter bake, young specimens will happily add crunch to a spring salad too. And don’t get hung up on the name either. They grow underground rather than over ground like globe artichokes (of which they are no relation) and they’ve nothing to do with the holy city either. Rather, the ‘Jerusalem’ moniker comes from the Italian ‘girasole’ or ‘turning to the sun’, because the tubers grow to face the sunlight.
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