As sad as I was to bid farewell to the sweetness of summer lettuces and greens, I have to say I started drooling at the prospect of the bitter bite of the hearty chicories that would soon be filling market stalls and greengrocers' shelves. As versatile as brassicas in everything from salads to soups and stir-fries, the split heads can even take the char from a grill, griddle or broiler.

Right now is the peak moment to check out the rainbow of colors and textures available from local farms—and you'll find the best prices on them at the farmers' market! It's a task I'm completely signed up for, obviously, and fortunately my Stoneboat Farm CSA includes them in its shares almost every week.

If you happen to be averse to the intensity of chicory's bitterness, you can take a page from Nostrana's Chef Cathy Whims and soak the chopped leaves in ice water for a couple of hours ahead of time.

Lately I've been enjoying winter salads by chopping them into salads with a variety of other seasonally appropriate greens and condiments. One green in particular that seems to beautifully complement chicory's bitterness is deep green lacinato kale, sweetened as it always is this time of year by the frosts that cause the plants to flood the leaves with sugars to keep them from freezing. I also love that it adds a dark contrast to the chicory's bright colors, and its bubbly texture adds a soft crunch to the mix.

The variations are endless: I've thrown in crushed hazelnuts, green onions, sweet peppers, chopped beets, capers, dried cranberries—you name it, I've probably tried it. And a sprinkling of grated parmesan or crumbled blue cheese is not a bad idea, either. I like a creamy dressing (see below) but a classic Caesar dressing, a sweet mustard vinaigrette or even a fig and balsamic dressing would all do this salad justice.

"A Few of My Favorite Things" Chicory Salad

For the dressing:
3 Tbsp. mayonnaise
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp. rice vinegar
1 clove garlic, pressed in a garlic press
1 Tbsp. white miso
Herbs, finely chopped (I like dried or fresh tarragon or thyme, as well as chopped chives)
1 tsp. honey (optional)

For the salad:
Radicchio or chicory leaves, chopped into 1" pieces
Lacinato kale, chopped into 1/4" chiffonade
Condiments like crushed hazelnuts, slivered green onions, chopped sweet peppers, chopped beets, capers, etc.
Grated parmesan or crumbled blue cheese (optional)

For the dressing, combine ingredients in a small bowl and stir until smooth.

Combine salad ingredients in appropriately sized salad bowl, drizzle with dressing of your choice and toss.

Verona. Castelfranco. Treviso. Chioggia. Lusia. Rosa del Veneto. A wide range of colors from deep burgundy to pastel pink to soft yellow, and solid to streaked to brightly speckled.

Radicchio season has been glorious this year, as evidenced by the gorgeous abundance of varieties at farm stands, farmers' markets and greengrocers. Not only has the weather been spectacular for this late fall crop, but more local farmers than ever are growing these slightly bitter members of the brassica family.

One reason it grows so well here is that, as Anthony Boutard has pointed out numerous times, we're at virtually the same latitude as Italy's Venezia and Piedmont regions, which means crops that grow well there will more likely than not will adapt well to our maritime climate. Luckily for us, Brian Campbell and Chrystine Goldberg, owners of Uprising Seeds in Bellingham, Washington, have caught the "bitter is better" bug and are working with several Northwest growers to develop and adapt these chicories to our climate. (To find out more, check out the Gusto Italiano Project, a collaboration between the Culinary Breeding Network, Uprising Seeds and the northern Italian vegetable breeders at Smarties.bio.)

So in late fall, my heart leaps when I see the first heads of Treviso and Castelfranco at the markets, and I can't seem to get enough of them in salads, chopped in wide ribbons and tossed with other greens and fall vegetables like black radish and fennel. I've also discovered an affinity between radicchio and our own hazelnuts—I've been crushing roasted hazelnuts and scattering them with abandon, where they bring a sweet counterpoint to the bitter notes of the chicory.

This year I've also discovered how delicious these fall beauties—particularly the tighter heads of Treviso, Chioggia and Verona—are when seared in a pan over a fire or on the stovetop. It takes just a few minutes to quarter them, sear them in a bit of hot olive oil and drizzle them with my creamy Miso Vinaigrette (below). And don't forget the roasted hazelnuts!

Seared Radicchio with Creamy Miso Vinaigrette

For the vinaigrette:
3 Tbsp. mayonnaise
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp. rice vinegar
1 clove garlic, pressed in a garlic press
1 Tbsp. white miso
Herbs, finely chopped (I like tarragon or thyme as well as chopped chives)
1 tsp. honey (optional)

For the radicchio:
2 Tbsp. olive oil
2 smaller heads of Chioggia, Verona or Treviso radicchio
1/2 c. roasted hazelnuts, crushed

To make the vinaigrette, combine the ingredients in a small mixing bowl and whisk together.

Slice the heads of radicchio in quarters, leaving the core intact so the leaves will stay together. (The cores will soften while searing and be quite lovely.) Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan and place the quartered wedges cut-side down and sear until very dark brown (don't worry if they look blackish…that's good). Turn and sear the other cut side, then turn onto the back and sear. Remove to a serving plate and drizzle with vinaigrette and sprinkle with crushed, roasted hazelnuts. Serve warm.

Photo of heads of radicchio from Slow Hand Farm. Radicchio print from Culinary Breeding Network Etsy shop where you can buy lots of radicchio merch!