SFist in the Kitchen: Sorrel
We first learned about sorrel from our food writing idol Ed Behr, who devotes a chapter of The Artful Eater to the distinctive herb and its history. Behr takes his cue from French cuisine and uses it in salads, soups, and sauces.We've kept that essay in mind, and pounced on the vibrant vegetable when we saw it at the Berkeley farmers' market.
The tapered point of a bright green sorrel leaf stands out at the market, but that leaf's tartness—from high levels of oxalic acid—stands out on the plate. Take a bite of raw sorrel, and your lips will pucker as your eyes squint.
Photos by Melissa Schneider
It's easy to cook sorrel. We break off the thick stems and then chiffonade the leaves before we add them to a dish, usually near the end. But be forewarned: That vibrant green color instantly transforms to a brown-olive as the released acid defiles the beautiful flesh. We watched sadly as our leaves discolored in a pot of lentils and green garlic that we cooked with seasoned duck stock. But the leaves added a nice zing that perked up the flavor and helped the dish stand up to the duck confit on the plate, which we served with a 1996 Barolo.
If the brown leaves break your heart, you can opt for moderate amounts of raw sorrel. Friend of SFist Joanne served us Fatted Calf duck pâté atop a large piece of sorrel, and we made a bed of equal parts sorrel and spinach for a piece of steamed sablefish. For that dish, we opted for a Mosel Riesling that had enough acidity to combat the spine-tingling sorrel bite.
Fat tempers the tart taste, so we garnished Eggs Benedict with thin strips that added a note of sorrel flavor to poached eggs under a sauce Maltaise. That dish was a hit at our Mother's Day brunch.
Sorrel doesn't show up at many markets, but if you happen to spot it, buy a bunch and bring it home. You'll fall in love with the lemony flavor. Tell us how you use it in the comments.