Chard attack!

Oh boy, we love chard over here... Our daughter eats it raw from the plant. As for me, it is inextricably associated with the scacciata, a Sicilian savoury pie which, in turn, is associated with Christmas and - in general - winter and conviviality.

In Italian, "chard" translates to bieta or bietola.

You know that something is important when there is more than one name for it. In Sicily, they are called "ségale" in the area where I am from (which is very confusing, because in Italian "ségala" means "rye"). However, in the same island, they are also called Geri, Geli, Giri, Gira, Aggiri, Britti, Zalachi, Sechiri, Segari, Sechilli and... Zarchi. And that's only in one of the twenty regions forming Italy. I have no idea what they call chard in the remaining nineteen, but I would not be surprised if each region had more than one name for it.

One thing I know for sure, in Italy no-one calls it bietola svizzera ("Swiss chard"), because the Beta vulgaris has been a popular staple WAY before Switzerland was even a thing.

Over here in Casa Calvo, we grow it at home. Literally - in our house.

It was the first vegetable we ever grew from seed in our NFT system. "NFT" stands for Nutrient Film Technique, and it's one of the many ways of growing plants without soil. Not all the seeds make it to become a plant, but those that do tend to be very happy, and I have a picture to prove it!

The first chard we grew this year was planted very early in the season, while the weather was cold and miserable and the days were dark and short. The seed was slow to grow, eventually producing two tiny leaves, then four. My wife promptly took out her beloved Dymo machine and labeled it "HOPE".

For a week or two, "Hope" hung on for dear life. Then, suddenly, it started growing, which is when our daughter decided that having a name meant that it wasn't for eating. She didn't go as far as quoting Dostoevsky ("To live without hope is to cease to live") and yet she was rather vocal about it. So now we have a pet chard until the very end of the season!

Fortunately, to this day, all the other plants remain unnamed, so I am still allowed to harvest them. As soon as they became tall enough, I started looking for chard recipes. The first one that sprang to mind was - unsurprisingly - a Sicilian classic. It makes one of the fillings of the aforementioned scacciata, but can also be served with rice and pasta.

Like many good things in life, it is both easy and simple: extra-virgin olive oil, garlic, crushed chilli, chopped tomato, salt, chard and a lot of pecorino cheese. The ingredients are added to a large pan in this very order, and sautéed until the garlic is golden and the chard is wilted. Some folks like adding a smattering of black (Kalamata) olives to the mix but, in my humble opinion, there is no need for it.

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