Andrew Wood
Sorrel - Lemon Spinach
It’s been a very hectic month on the farm. The growing season has well and truly begun and I have been madly planting the summer crop: 600 heirloom tomatoes; 100 chillis, a whole bed of Italian melons (a bed is 4 metres wide by 50 metres long); another bed of sixteen different types of pumpkins (the seeds kindly given to me by my good friends Lois and Geoff); half a bed each of zucchini, squash and heirloom cucumbers, and lesser quantities of beans, eggplant and capsicum. This is on top of the regular weekly planting of lettuce, rocket, herbs, Asian greens, radish, etc. And to top it off, the spring rains have failed for the third year running and I have been watering the beds since September—a task that takes two hours every evening (just what you feel like at the end of a long, hard day toiling in the paddock!). So, there hasn’t been a lot of time to goof off. I must admit that I have been missing not been able to spend the occasional day in the kitchen cooking up a storm. However, I did manage to make a rather splendid sorrel soup the other day. But I have to admit that there was an ulterior motive.
Of late we have been picking forty-plus bunches of the most magnificent sorrel from our rather large sorrel patch every week (it grows like a weed in our neck of the woods). Now, to try and sell forty bunches of any herb at the farmers’ markets is a big ask, let alone a herb that is a little out of the ordinary. As part of our culinary duty we have been handing out sorrel recipe sheets to people who want to experience it’s lemony goodness, but are not sure what to do with it. The aforementioned soup is one of the recipes included and since it had been a while since I had cooked it, I thought it best to reacquaint myself with the recipe before recommending it to customers.
I must say, I was quite taken aback by the brilliance of the soup given how easy it is to make. The combination of silky texture, unmistakeable tangy lemon character and intensity of flavour all make for a supremely enjoyable dish. It’s a soup that could comfortably be on any upmarket/fine dining restaurant menu.
A member of the dock family, sorrel grows wild throughout Europe and Asia. It is a perennial herb that has been eaten for centuries. The two main varieties cultivated today are common sorrel (Rumex acetosa) and round leaf or French sorrel (R scutatus). It grows to around thirty centimetres in height and is made up of masses of upright apple-green coloured leaves. The leaves are ten to fifteen centimetres in length, slightly arrow-shaped at the base tapering to a pointed tip. Sorrel's alluring sharp, lemon taste is due to the presence of oxalic acid–the same acid found in spinach, silver beet and rhubarb leaves.
Sorrel is relatively easy to grow, but does like a drink every day during the warmer months and a feed of compost or decomposed animal manure in autumn. Seeds germinate easily and after a year the plants will need to be lifted and divided to ensure a vigorous crop next season (this is best done in autumn or spring). Be warned, the succulent, fleshy leaves are also adored by snails, slugs, earwigs, caterpillars or any other garden eater-biter. Spray with pyrethrum—an organic pest control made from the chrysanthemum plant—if it gets out of hand (but only on a cloudy day or in the evening because it will burn the leaves if sprayed in full sun).
From a culinary perspective, sorrel can be used in anything where you want to introduce a lemon tang. When cooked it is very similar to spinach in that it wilts with the slightest hint of heat and has a very silky gel-like texture. It goes brilliantly with fish and chicken, also eggs and potatoes (try stirring a handful of chopped sorrel through mashed potato, yum!). It is best to remove the tough central rib of the leaf—only use the delicate “wings” of the leaf.
It’s unfortunate that in this country, sorrel is not better known (most people mistake it for spinach), not that it is readily available–most aficionados grow it to ensure a constant supply. During a busy market you don’t often have the time to explain to the uninitiated how wonderfully versatile sorrel is or how much flavour the delicate leaves pack. After many convoluted attempts to explain its characters, the best quick descriptor I can come up with is “lemon spinach”. A reasonably apt description, I think you’ll agree.
Sorrel Soup
2 bunches finely chopped sorrel, stalks and central veins removed
3 tbsp butter
1 medium-sized onion, finely diced
1 medium-sized potato, finely diced
1 litre chicken stock
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
200ml cream
Melt the butter in a saucepan. Add the onion and sweat until translucent. Add the sorrel, potato and chicken stock. Bring to a boil and reduce the heat so the soup is barely simmering. Cover. Cook until the potato is starting to fall apart (about twenty minutes) and purée the soup in a blender. Season with salt and pepper. Return the soup back to the pot and add the cream. Heat gently making sure you don’t bring it to the boil. Taste. The soup should be silky-smooth in texture and intensely flavoured. However, if the flavour is to over-the-top add a little water to tone it down. Serves six.
Potato and Sorrel Tortilla
500g waxy potatoes, peeled and sliced
1 bunch finely chopped sorrel, stalks and central veins removed
1 large onion, finely diced
6 large eggs
1 cup milk
1 cup olive oil
salt and freshly ground pepper
Heat the oil in a 20cm heavy frying pan. Fry the potatoes until golden brown on both sides, remove and dry on paper towel. Tip off most of the oil and fry the onion until it caramelises, remove from heat. In a large bowl, beat together the eggs, milk, salt and pepper. Add the cooked potato slices, caramelised onion and chopped sorrel. Clean the fry pan and heat a little fresh olive oil. Tip tortilla mixture into the fry pan when hot. Cook gently for about ten minutes, or until the base is cooked. Place fry pan in a moderately hot griller/salamander to cook the top of the tortilla for another ten minutes or so. The tortilla will be cooked when the centre is firm to touch. Once cooked, place a large plate over the fry pan and invert—the tortilla should drop onto the plate. Serve at room temperature.
Sorrel Stuffing for Poultry
sourdough bread, crusts removed
onion, finely diced
celery, finely sliced
sorrel, finely chopped, stalks and central veins removed
lemon juice
salt and freshly ground pepper
The quantity of each ingredient will depend on what you are stuffing (obviously the larger the bird, the more stuffing you will have to make: for a size 18 chicken you will need 1/2 loaf of bread, 1 onion, 1 stalk celery, 1 bunch sorrel, 1/2 lemon). Break the bread up into small pieces. Add all the other ingredients and mix well until the stuffing begins to bind (the lemon juice will help in this process). Pack firmly into the cavity of the bird. There is no need to sew the cavity of the bird, the stuffing should hold together on its on accord.
Sorrel and Tuna Pasta
1 bunch finely chopped sorrel, stalks and central veins removed
1 bunch flat leaf parsley, finely chopped
350g tin tuna fillet (preferably Italian or Spanish in olive oil)
2 medium tomatoes, finely diced
250g thin spaghetti
fruity extra virgin olive oil
salt and freshly ground pepper
Cook the spaghetti in a large pot of salted, boiling water. Combine and sorrel, parsley, tomato with a decent splash of olive oil. When the pasta is al dente, drain and place into a large serving/pasta bowl. Pour over a splash of olive oil—enough to coat the pasta without it swimming in it. Scoop out the tuna (including the oil) onto the pasta. Add the remaining ingredients, season with plenty of salt and freshly ground pepper and stir thoroughly. Do not let the pasta cool down, combine the ingredients immediately—the heat will warm all the other ingredients gently without cooking them. Serves four.
Sorrel Sauce for Fish
1 bunch finely chopped sorrel, stalks and central veins removed
1 leek, finely sliced
125ml fish stock
125ml dry vermouth
125ml white wine
450ml thin cream
salt and freshly ground pepper
Sauté the leek in a little butter. Add the fish stock, vermouth and white wine and reduce to about 125ml. Add the cream and reduce down to the consistency of a medium-thick sauce. Add the sorrel and allow to wilt into the sauce (it should only take a minute). Taste for seasoning before serving. Serves six.
Andrew Wood
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