Chard Sharp

Call me a crank (many have), but the term “veggies” sticks in my craw. “Veggies” is too cute, too close to “puppies” and “kitties,” which should be cuddled but never eaten, and “wedgies,” which are for stepping into, not digging into. “Foodies” eat “veggies,” and I find both of these “ie” endings diminutive and dismissive. Can’t we deal in more dignified terms when discussing people who appreciate what they consume? Can’t food aficionados simply eat vegetables?

Lurking at the other end of the spectrum are people who polish their food talk with pretentious pronunciations. Take, for instance, the Southern gal I recently encountered who kept referring to Swiss “shard” when what I wanted to talk about was the more quotidian, albeit equally delicious, chard. I pronounced the “ch” as in “chalk” or “chew,” while she would pause, drop her drawl and volley back with a diaphanous “shard,” as if it were the remains of something that shattered when the queen stepped off the Concorde.

Fortunately, there is nothing pretentious about the retired Japanese couple from whom I buy my chard at the Glendale Farmers Market. In the back yard of their Los Angeles home, they grow their weekly offerings of sorrel, arugula, assorted herbs and tender bunches of baby Swiss chard. Their chard is less intimidating than the mature supermarket variety, with its thick, wide ribs, leaves the size of palm fronds and uncooked texture akin to a vinyl shower curtain. Because their growing space is small, the wife explains, their chard is too densely cultivated to develop into bigger plants.

I first tried their chard in winter, when not much besides greens was fresh and good in the seasonal markets. Some consider chard to be a tonic, its vitamin-filled, mild-tasting leaves good for the stomach. I cooked my inaugural bunches in the Italian fashion, sauteed in olive oil with garlic.

I quickly graduated to adult greens, the big red-ribbed chard and the closely related beet greens. The larger leaves should be sliced diagonally into a wide chiffonade before cooking, but I never found it necessary, as some cookbooks recommend, to remove the ribs and blanche or parboil the leaves before adding them to the saute pan or soup pot. Indeed, my only disagreeable greens experience was with kale, which took longer than linoleum to cook to a tender stage and tasted just about as interesting.

The green I keep going back to, though, is my first: baby chard. The leaves are the size of spinach and a suitable substitute for it, requiring far less rinsing and never threatening to grow fuzz on your teeth. Last year, when I had a group to entertain, I decided to introduce them to my newfound favorite by adding it to penne with prosciutto and a Parmesan cream sauce. One of my guests, an elegant woman of humble Southern origins who now divides her time between Paris and Los Angeles, was compelled to have seconds. And, yes, I was particularly gratified that she never once called the ingredient she found so surprising “shard.”

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Penne With Chard, Prosciutto and Parmesan

Serves 4 to 6

1 medium onion, diced

2-3 cloves garlic, minced

1 red bell pepper, diced

2-3 tablespoons olive oil

1/4 pound thinly sliced prosciutto, single layers cut crosswise into 1-inch bands

8-10 cups chard, cut crosswise into 1-inch bands

3 tablespoons butter

3 tablespoons flour

1 1/2 cups milk

2 cups shredded Parmesan cheese

1 pound penne pasta

Saute onion, garlic and red bell pepper in olive oil in large pan 5 minutes, or until tender. Add prosciutto and saute a few minutes more. Add chard, stir, reduce heat and cover until chard wilts, 3 to 5 minutes. Remove lid, stir and continue cooking over low heat a few minutes more until excess liquid has evaporated.

Meanwhile, melt butter in separate pan over medium heat. Whisk in flour to make roux and cook 1 minute. Do not let butter or roux brown. Add milk in stream and continue whisking until sauce thickens. Add Parmesan and whisk until cheese melts. Remove sauce from heat.

When prosciutto-chard mixture is ready, add milk-Parmesan mixture. Stir together and keep sauce warm over low heat while cooking penne according to package instructions. Drain penne and toss with sauce in large bowl. Serve immediately with extra grated Parmesan if desired.

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Food stylist: Christine Anthony-Masterson