Consider the radish. A noble vegetable to say the least, the radish is easily recognized by most people. While it may not be universally loved or fawned over on chic menus around town, the radish has a fame that allows it to be readily picked out of a veggie bin. Unfortunately familiarity, or lack thereof, may cause us to pass over a more deserving vegetable, one that has been known and loved through antiquity, but doesn’t own a spot on the grocery list of today’s shoppers. What’s worse, this mystery plant is one of a cook’s best weapons, edible and versatile from stem to stern. Fennel is the underdog of the kitchen.
There are quite a few factors which contribute to the mystery surrounding fennel. Is it an herb? Is it a vegetable? Is it a seed? Yes. Isn’t fennel the same thing as anise? No. While it may share a touch of the licorice flavor of anise, it is a completely different plant. In fact it’s two plants. Florence fennel, foeniculum vulgare dulce, or finocchio as the Italians know it, is cultivated primarily for its wide bulb, which is eaten like a vegetable. Common fennel, foeniculum vulgare, is known to grow wild and has no bulb. It shares the same sturdy stem and frothy leaves as finocchio, but is mostly harvested for its seeds. So: The word “fennel” applies to all the parts of two separate plants—the greens, the stalks, the bulbs, and the seeds. As you might expect, the full range of what this plant can do in the kitchen is staggering.
Native to the Mediterranean, fennel is one of the oldest cultivated plants in the world. The Greeks believed that Prometheus hid the fire he stole from the sun in a fennel stalk as he brought the gift to humankind. Greek athletes ate fennel seeds before their Olympic competitions, ensuring enlivenment and strength. The Romans found their own uses, including no less than 22 different medicinal applications for the plant, as outlined by Pliny. Women counted on its use as a diuretic and learned that a tea of fennel leaves, passed through mother’s milk, could cure a colicky baby. For as long as writers have been writing, there have been words glorifying fennel and its virtues—a cure-all for such maladies including headaches, toothaches, coughs, asthma, and arthritis—and even suggesting that its use could cause substantial weight loss. Among fennel’s many fans you can count Milton, Shakespeare, Dumas, and Jefferson. Isn’t that enough to get it on your weekly list?
I hear your concerns: What does it taste like? What the hell do I do with it? Enter the fear of black jellybeans. On a recent trip to Lunds, I noticed that the fennel bulbs were labeled as “anise or fennel.” It may be a way for people to understand a bit better what the flavor nuances of fennel are, but it mostly makes people turn and say ick! Not to knock anise but, among other things, it is used to flavor such liqueurs as Ouzo and Pernod and has a strong sweet liquorice flavor. While fennel does impart a nuance of that flavor, it suffers a grievous slander with the association. The key to the real flavor of fennel lies with its preparation.
So how should you prepare it? Surprisingly enough, the answer is, “Any damn way you please.” Fennel is versatile and flexible, and it will forgive a multitude of culinary mistakes. However you prepare it, the subtleties and intensities will come out in different ways. Shaved or chopped raw fennel in a salad will yield a fresh clean taste. (In Italy it is often eaten raw at the end of the meal to cleanse the palate.) When heated in a variety of ways such as braising or sautéing, fennel is transformed into a new food. The crispiness turns to tenderness and the flavor becomes more understated and mellow. Fennel lives well wherever you put it, chopped into soups and stews, battered and fried as finger food, baked into bread as the Romans did so long ago. The seeds alone have countless uses, from sausage seasoning to Chinese five-spice. Honestly, fennel is the secret weapon of chefs, and I mean to spread the word.
If you are still afraid to go the course alone, your best bet is to sample the wares of others. The ever-remarkable work of Chef Alexander Roberts at Restaurant Alma is a great place to start. He has been serving fennel in different forms on many a menu. The best example presently is his seared tuna and shaved fennel. Roberts loves fennel for its versatility and rare balance between vibrancy and delicacy. He suggests that another mouth-watering way to enjoy fennel through the fall is in a gratin with cream and herbs—especially as an accompaniment to meats.
As you begin to understand and appreciate the complexities, you should head to Vincent for the full fennel experience. It is a culinary staple there and Sous Chef Don Saunders likes it because it often provides a natural sweetness, substituting nicely for more pedestrian sugars and sweeteners. Incidentally, he thinks tarragon is a great match for fennel. You can test this theory out with their salmon dish, which uses all the components from the ancient plant with a touch of tarragon. The salmon is coated in fennel seeds and seared, served with a risotto made with lobster stock and fresh shaved fennel, and the beautiful dish is garnished with the deep fried greens. If that doesn’t inspire you to look beyond the radish and the anise, you really need to get out more!
Restaurant Alma
528 University Ave., Mpls.
(612) 379-4909
Vincent
1100 Nicollet Ave., Mpls.
(612) 630-1189
Stephanie March is a Minneapolis writer.
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