etiolate (n. etiolation)
To alter the natural development of a plant by excluding sunlight, often resulting in pale or bleached foliage. Etiolation is one method of layering for propagation; the shaded parts turn white or cream and develop no leaves. Also known as ‘blanching’.
I first knew I needed a kitchen in Paris the first day I walked through Rue Mouffetard’s open air market. I showed you one of the butchers already. I’ve highlighted cheese. But the first thing that brought it home? Etiolated vegetables.
It is a positive pain to get properly blanched veggies here. Leeks in particular. The leeks you see above? Eight inches of sweet, white leek stalk. The white part of the leek is tasty part, the usable part, the part that sweats in the pan so beautifully and is tender and sweet. The part that all recipes call for. Everything else is fodder for the compost heap in my opinion. Once you get into the green, the leek gets stringy and bitter. And keep in mind it’s all subjective. Some people like the green just fine. I find it distracting and tough to enjoy. I’m lucky if I’m able to find a leek locally that has more than three inches of usable trunk. It means they aren’t getting hilled during the growing process. Hilling is piling up the soil and organic matter around the stalk to block the light and is only one of a few methods farmers use to achieve good blanching. It takes extra effort and labor, which is probably why I’m not seeing a whole lot of it being done.
Asparagus transforms into another vegetable entirely when etiolated. It goes super tender and light in flavor and has no leaves save for some tiny suggestions along the stalk. The above are from the same stall in Rue Mouffetard. Not a nick or bruise in sight either. I just stared at them for a while, drawing peculiar looks from the vendor.
I love our markets. Even after France, I wouldn’t trade them for anything (Check the price above…2.99€? Yikes. Though etiolation does cost extra, I don’t think our leeks would top $4.50 a kg. Le sigh.). That said, there are two things I long for in my local market - a decent cheese vendor and someone who goes the extra mile to provide blanched leeks and asparagus is springtime. Actually I long for other things too, but for the sake of this post, we’ll limit it to those two. Baby steps.
Both leeks and asparagus are in season right now, but their paler versions are harder to find. If you find someone locally who looks like they got an ‘A’ in Etiolation, please let me know. I’m anxious to meet them.
March 20, 2008 at 5:28 am
I use the green tops of the leeks to flavor beef stocks. I cut them into large chunks and add them to my mirepoix that I roast under the bones.
March 20, 2008 at 5:38 am
Alaina - See, in a beef stock I can see where the green bit would be ok. But I wouldn’t put them into a white stock like fish or chicken. I think the bitter would not be a positive addition. But I can definitely see it playing nice in a brown stock.
Or it could be I’m just conditioned to toss them. I’ve always cringed a little doing it (you end up tossing more than half of what you bought).
Hm. You did give me an idea though. I do a roasted vegetable stock (parsnips, carrots, onions, etc.) that comes out really rich and heavy for an all veggie stock. The leek tops might actually work…
Thanks for chiming in!
March 20, 2008 at 8:59 am
Actually I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to do some experimenting this weekend. I’m out of both my brown and light stocks so maybe it’s time for some eye opening.