My first experience with mustard greens was in Provincetown, Massachusetts, where I lived for a summer while interning at the Fine Arts Work Center.

During our first week in town, my boss, a tall, energetic woman named Dorothy, took us up the street to the off-campus apartments where she lived, and she showed us her garden. It was a thing of beauty with leafy greens, mounds of soil, and the promise of ripe tomatoes. She stooped and pulled away a leaf. “Try this,” she said, and ripped it to pieces, handing them around to my fellow interns and me.

Mustard greens (Pic | thebittenword.com)

I expected lettuce, so the taste didn’t hit me immediately, but once I swallowed, that tiny leaf fought back. I asked what it was. “Mustard,” she said.

Mustard greens have a hard punch after you swallow that left me, frankly, wishing for a glass of water. When I arrived at the CSA this week to pick up my bag of goodies, Bryn, the Five Points manager, told me the mustard greens had been picked about an hour before I arrived. They were perky, strong bunches of red mustard, and though I was skeptical about finding a way to cook these pungent greens, I went home and set about doing some research.

I’m a Southern girl, but greens have never really been my thing. They never quite tasted right to me, too mushy or too peppery, or worse, too bland. Even after I outgrew my childhood impulse to quickly dismiss and avoid any green foods, I steered clear of greens.

I was prejudiced. And I was wrong.

This week, I made braised mustard greens with bacon. And oh, were they good. Salty, with a bit of hickory flavoring from the bacon, the mustard greens lost the hard kick during an hour of simmering with onions, bacon, salt, and pepper. The recipe I used was found, as usual, in The Joy of Cooking, but I modified it, mostly because I got distracted preparing the rest of my Sunday feast and forgot the final steps. The recipe I’ve listed below is my modification.

Braised Mustard Greens with Bacon

2 ˝ pounds mustard greens (I used the two bunches from the CSA and I’d say it made 2-3 servings)

6 slices bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces

2/3 cups chopped onions

Salt and pepper to taste

Wash the mustard thoroughly and chop into 1-inch pieces.

Mmm doggie.

In a large pot suitable for cooking the greens, cook the bacon until crisp. Add the greens and onions. Cook, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the greens are coated with fat. Cover the greens with water and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Bring to a boil. Cover the pot, reduce the heat, and simmer gently until the greens are tender, one hour or longer. Stir occasionally and add water if they threaten to scorch.

When the greens are done, taste for seasoning and add as you see fit. Serve very hot.

**

It seems I might be making a habit of cooking one great dish and one that is sub-par. I branched from The Joy and tried a recipe from Passionate Vegetarian, a book by Crescent Dragonwagon. The turnips intimidated me a little bit; I’ve only ever had turnip greens, never the actual root, which has a texture like a potato. Though this recipe was a bit bland for my taste, I’m not giving up on turnips just yet. I have a feeling they might be good mashed, or perhaps roasted with potatoes and a good amount of seasoning. Nonetheless, here is the recipe, which I feel compelled to share not only in the interest of full disclosure, but also because of its name.

Jerry Stamps and Chou Chou’s Collaborative Glazed Turnips

6-8 fresh turnips, the size of a small fist, scrubbed, tops and tails removed, cut into chunks

Water

1 unsalted broth cube, crumbled, plus 1 ˝ cups additional water, or 1 cup vegetable stock (I chose vegetable stock)

2 teaspoons butter, or more to taste

1-2 teaspoons honey
˝ teaspoon tamari or shoyu soy sauce

Dash or two of cayenne pepper

Salt and pepper to taste

Place turnips in a pot and just barely cover with cold water. Bring to a boil over high heat, and then immediately drain.

Turnips need love too.

Repeat the process, but this time instead of draining, add the broth cube and additional liquid, butter, honey, tamari, cayenne, and salt and pepper. (Original notes say, “butter—‘plenty of butter’ says Jerry, ‘I use a whole lot,” says Chou Chou.”)

Bring to a simmer and cook, uncovered, until the turnips are very tender, about fifteen minutes. [Dana’s note: mine took more like forty-five minutes for it to look like regular turnips and not a turnip soup.]

Serve with cornbread, “to sop up all that good juice,” as Jerry said at the time.

I served up a Sunday dinner feast of sole baked in lemon pepper butter, Beets-n-sweets, mustard greens, turnips, and cornbread. The roommates agreed the turnips were lackluster, but the mustard greens were surprisingly good, and I even went back for seconds on the greens.

Eat well, my fellow CSAcationers, and take care.

Dana gets her CSA from 5 Points.