Caramelised chicory baked with a prosciutto and parmesan crust
Apparently (according to the mysterious ‘they’ who are frequently quoted) today is the most depressing day of the year. It’s a Monday. The weather is vile. The festivities are but a dim and distant memory, unlike the bank balance, which is loomingly empty. And this year there’s a credit crisis just to add insult to injury.
All of this makes me feel perversely more cheerful about my mood today. Which has been bored, restless and cabin feverish. I haven’t been out much since I returned to Amsterdam after New Year’s Day, which can only mean one (rather predictable) thing: cooking.
Seasonal pickings might seem slim at this time of year, but yesterday I discovered chicory. Or rather, I didn’t discover it – I knew it existed – but I discovered that you can buy Dutch chicory in the shops during the winter for a price that won’t break even the British economy. So I did.
I realise it’s rather a wan, unloved vegetable… but I’m seeing it as a metaphor for January: it starts off cold, pale and bitter, but with some warmth, sweetness and good glug of decadence it transforms into something capable of banishing the winter blues…