Recipe: Broccoli Rabe with Serrano Ham, Black Olives, and Piment d’Espelette.
Are you in a fall vegetable rut? Squash and cabbage got you down? I hear you. How about this, for the moment: Put those impenetrable pumpkins aside and focus on the bitter cool weather vegetables broccoli rabe, escarole, chicory, and radicchio. Aren’t they a little more exciting? I think so, but sometimes figuring out how to get a new slant on a bitter vegetable can be difficult. Their natural flavor is so profound that I tend to think it best not to try to one-up it. Just let their bitter beauty shine, unadorned. But you needn’t be held hostage by radicchio or broccoli rabe.
Broccoli rabe is a vegetable that inhabited my childhood, like many Italian-Americans’. It was always on the table, seasoned simply with sliced garlic, olive oil, and sometimes a few anchovies. It seemed to go well with everything. (Now that I think about it, I suppose that’s because my family always made Southern Italian food.) Everyone who ate at my family’s table encountered broccoli rabe, either as a side dish or tossed with pasta. Non-Italians almost always pulled back, maybe nibbling a bit but inevitably not caring much for it. I can only say I’ll bet they’re eating it now. It’s on every trendy restaurant menu. It’s a gorgeous and amazing work of nature. Orecchietti with broccoli rabe and anchovies remains to this day one of my all-time favorite pastas.
As much as I love broccoli rabe, it can sometimes take a little prepping to bring out its best flavor. When it’s not cooked enough or not cooked properly, I often detect a slight Clorox taste. That taste, it seems to me, only emerges when I (or somebody else) sautés the greens without blanching them first. I always blanch them, just for about two minutes. Not enough to break down the broccoli rabe, but enough to wash away that flavor. What does that chlorine taste come from, I wonder? I never taste it in regular broccoli. Have you noticed it? I became curious, so I decided to find out what exactly is in broccoli rabe. It turns out it contains pantothenic acid, zinc, copper, vitamins A, E, C, K, and B6. It also has thiamin, riboflavin, niacin, folate, calcium, iron, magnesium, phosphorus, potassium, and manganese. Wow. Sorry I asked. Very healthy stuff. Clorox is primarily chlorine and sodium hydroxide, so, gee, any scientists out there?
To my palate, bitter blends best with sweet or salty. For my broccoli rabe I chose to go salty, adding Serrano ham and a handful of black Niçoise olives. I find Serrano ham sturdier than prosciutto. It doesn’t get spoiled by a little heat, and you can actually chop it into neat strips. And Niçoise olives have a nice mellow note, not taking over a dish the way, for instance, kalamatas might. I finished it off with my current favorite mild pepper, piment d’Espelette, from the Basque region. (I know. You’re asking, do I have to go out and buy this? Yes. You’ll be doing yourself a big favor. It’s a sweet, deeply flavored but only mildly hot paprika, perfect when you want just a touch of heat but a lot of savoriness.)
I sometimes like to make one well-thought-out vegetable dish my entire dinner. It’s a great way to lose weight without boring yourself to tears. (Steamed vegetables? Not for me, thanks.)
Broccoli Rabe with Serrano Ham, Black Olives, and Piment d’Espelette
(Serves 2 as a main course)
1 large bunch broccoli rabe, tough stems removed
Extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
A splash of chicken broth
3 thin slices Serrano ham, cut into thin strips
The grated zest from 1 lemon
A dozen or so black Niçoise olives, pitted
Piment d’Espelette pepper
Salt, if needed
Blanch the broccoli rabe in a large pot of boiling water for 2 minutes. Drain it, and plunge it into ice water to stop the cooking. Now squeeze out as much water as you can. Cut down any really big pieces to a more manageable size.
In a large skillet, heat a tablespoon or so of olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the garlic, and cook just until it gives off an aroma but doesn’t brown. Add the broccoli rabe, and sauté for about 2 to 3 minutes. Add a splash of chicken broth (just enough to add a touch of moisture). Turn off the heat, and add the ham, lemon zest, olives, and a generous pinch of piment d’Espelette. Toss well. Taste for salt. You might not need it.
Serve with slices of garlic-rubbed bruschetta. Follow with a ripe pear and a chunk of Fontina. A perfect dinner.
Reading your blog when I’m hungry, Erica, is an exercise in the sheerest masochism. Good Lord. Recipe sounds amazing, and nice to know broccoli rabe has such great health benefits, too. Making ASAP. Grazie!
Girl of Steel,
Also good with anchovies instead on the ham. Maybe omit the olives though. Might be too salty. Anchovies and a handful of chopped, toasted almonds. That’s quite nice. Keep it rotating.
as a kid growing up in an Italian community, we always ate “cima di rabe” in the home of my godmother. coma’ giulia didn’t drive so my mom took her to outlying farms to buy produce, chickens & other meats. coma G made the “cima” very much like your recipe. she did use saltcured anchovies for the flavor. she served it w/ fried pork chops or roast chicken. always a big, honkin’ Italian salad, too! of course she baked twice a week so we had good Italian bread as a “go with”. her husband, ‘ba frank, constructed an authentic brick oven for that purpose. many memories. thanx, Erica.
Zingara, Yes, many memories. And thanks so much for yours.
Sounds wonderful!
Thanks Madeline. Yeah, it’s good. And If you add a little extra chicken broth, it makes a great pasta sauce.
A beautiful way to get your greens. Poor broccoli has gotten such a bad rep and people just steam it too much. Which ruins it and makes for bland eating. Love your take on it, Erica.
Thanks Michael. Do you have a vegetable garden? Doesn’t everyone in California grow chilies? If you do, please tell me about what you’re growing. I live through other people’s gardens. Isn’t that sad? I do, however, grow really nice herbs in my stoop pots. Someday I’ll have a for real garden.