Every Tuesday at about half past seven, a white van turns into Cranston Wynd with the hazard lights on. In the back are eight or nine crates, and on top of the crates, wrapped in damp paper, are the bitter leaves that make our autumn menu.
They come from Gowanbank, a farm of forty acres in East Lothian run by Kirsty and Ewan Laidlaw. Kirsty found us in 2018. She had been growing radicchio and puntarelle on a hunch, after eating them in Treviso, and could not find a single kitchen in Scotland that wanted them. I had been trying to buy decent chicory for three years. We spoke on the phone for an hour.
Why cold weather matters
Bitter leaves do not want warm weather. They grow slowly, and the first frost is what turns them from harsh to sweet. In September Kirsty’s radicchio is pale, firm and sharply bitter. By the end of October it is deep red, a little softer, and tastes of something close to a very dark honey.
That change is the reason we serve the leaves from October to February and not earlier. It is also why the dish on our menu is so plain. A pile of radicchio, chicory and puntarelle, an anchovy dressing, lemon and good oil. There is nothing to hide behind, so the leaves have to be good.
What the farm sends
Over a year Gowanbank sends us about thirty kinds of vegetable. In autumn it is the bitter leaves, cavolo nero, squash and the first Jerusalem artichokes. In winter, celeriac and leeks. In spring, wild garlic and the first purple sprouting. The chef writes the menu around what is in the crates, not the other way round, which means Kirsty’s message on Monday night can change what we cook on Tuesday.
This is not as romantic as it sounds. Some weeks a crate is half the size we hoped for. Some weeks there is no puntarelle at all, because the slugs got there first. We would rather have that conversation than buy a perfect, pale chicory from a wholesaler who has never seen the field.
Come and see it
Kirsty and Ewan open the farm to our team each spring and again in the autumn, and the whole kitchen goes. Ewan walks us along the rows and shows us which leaves to cut. Last year Callum, who has never grown anything in his life, was handed a knife and a crate and did very well.
If you eat the bitter leaves at Ortiga this autumn, you are eating the first of Kirsty’s frost. Tell us what you think, and we will pass it on at the next delivery.
