Chicory; spindly, maligned and ironic

Spindly, maligned Chicory, it’s the object of botanical epithets one minute, sold as a hoity toity salad green the next. Flourishing with enthusiasm along roads and in waste places - it springs up in cracks in the pavement, for crissakes - it’s considered a weed (the worst epithet of all). On the other hand, its roasted, ground roots are sold in markets as a coffee additive or substitute. It’s spindly, maligned and ironic.

A perennial introduced from Europe, probably as a hay crop, Chicory’s sky-blue flowers bloom from July through October. At a time when no other blue flowers are in bloom, they are a welcome interlude. Of its lovely flowers, herbalist Alma Hutchins wrote, “(Chicory) bears a most heavenly shade with star-like petals of blue, with a violet cast that is so outstanding when in bloom it is restful to behold.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson described Chicory as “succory to match the sky.”

Only a few of the flowers open at any given time, and last just one day. Blossoming along the plant’s nearly barren stems, they open in the morning and, as they follow the sun, turn pinkish, wilt, and lose their color entirely, all by mid-day. On cloudy days they may not bloom at all, or if the morning sun has given way to cloud cover, they may bloom all day. The entire plant generally grows up to 4’ tall, and its basal leaves, which can be used in salads when young, are similar to those of its cousin Dandelion (perhaps the most notorious weed of all).

Aside from this weed business, Chicory is known best for its root, roasted, ground and brewed, either instead of coffee, or added to it. In Europe, where the demand for it so great it is sometimes extended with wheat, Chicory is flavored with burnt sugar and served alone. In the Southern U.S. its slightly bitter flavor is a popular addition to coffee.

One of my annual autumn rituals when I lived in Ohio was to dig up several taproots after the first hard frost. I then scrubbed the roots thoroughly, diced them up, and roasted them until they were crisp and the color of coffee. (I did the same thing with Dandelion roots.) I found a little more coffee than chicory made a tasty brew, and a bit of Chicory (or Dandelion) gave hot chocolate a kick.

The young blanched leaves of Chicory, as a fresh salad green, are also popular, and are typically sold at high prices.

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