Getting the Most Out of the Chard Leaf

Enter spooning season with a fragrant, hearty, beguilingly beet-y lentil soup

A few years ago, in one of my many failed attempts to develop a green thumb, I bought some Swiss chard seedlings at the nursery. As I was checking out, the cashier made a joke about Swiss chard being a scam — “they’re just beet greens without the beet!” he said. I laughed and nodded, and on the way home wondered if this was true.

It is, and in fact, as I learned in a bit of Google research this week, in other parts of the world the beet relation is written into the vegetable’s name. It also goes by “beet spinach,” “seakale beet,” “leaf beet,” and my favorite down in New Zealand and Australia, “silverbeet.” There’s nothing “Swiss” about it at all — that name is believed to have come from Dutch seed merchants wanting to differentiate it from French spinach varieties.

Anyway, while it isn’t revolutionary to cook your Swiss chard stems, I do find that more often than not, U.S. recipes frame them as a byproduct of the more prized leafy part. And I wondered if perhaps by thinking of the plant as so closely related to the beet family — as a beet with all the sweet beet part redistributed upward — that those thick, crunchy, sweet, colorful stems might have more value and appeal?

There are so many things you can do with chard stems. Because they’re relatively sweet, I’ve long loved to slice the stems into thin segments and roast them at high heat until crispy and well caramelized; then I salt them like french fries. They take well to pickling, too — just slice them however you please, cover with your favorite pickling brine and aromatics, and refrigerate for about a week. You can also boil them and whip them into a tahini-enriched dip, called silq bil-tahina.

Today, I encourage you to harness the full value of the vegetable in a hearty, warming, lentil soup. There are two things that I make this soup stand out. The first is using some ghee as part of the cooking fat. If you don’t have ghee, you can use butter, or you can just stick with olive oil, too. But know that ghee adds a depth of richness and a slightly nutty character that simply ups the comfort. And in general, ghee can be a terrific way to enhance any manner of wintery vegetable treatments.

The second is letting go of the desire to preserve the bright green color of the chard leaves, and instead cook them until they’re completely tender, zapped of color… what might seem to some like “overcooked.” But with both the caramelized chard stems in the soup as well as the leaves, cooking the chard this way infuses the pot with a distinctive earthy sweetness — a sweetness that may make you think of beets! As it should.

And lastly, the soup is quite hearty as it is, but I’ve included the option to serve it with half of a sweet potato, which has been seared, cut-side down, in a hot skillet to char slightly. It’s a dramatic presentation, particularly with a splash of bright white yogurt and cilantro on top, but it’s a complementary vegetable and makes for a little bit more work for your spoon to do.

I have another recipe question for you:

Thanks for all your input on olive oil measurements last week — it validated my hunch that most cooks use their own judgement. Today I want to ask about salt.

I was recently shocked recently to find that a box of Diamond kosher salt is going for $10.99 at the grocery store, and learned that the price went up for no other reason but that they figured they could get away with it. So I decided I’m done with Diamond kosher salt, but would love to know: What kind of salt do you cook with most often? I think I’ll be making the switch to fine sea salt.

Whole Chard and Curried Lentil Soup