market chard stole the show

The steak was never going to be the problem. We grabbed a bone-in ribeye and a slab of applewood smoked bacon from Zupan's, and anything that starts there is most of the way to dinner. The thing I keep thinking about a day later is the chard.

We picked it up Saturday at the Lake Oswego farmers market, grown by Luscher Farms a little over a mile from our front door. You can see the difference before you cook a leaf of it. The stems were gorgeous, deep and glossy, and they held a slight crunch even after braising, which gave the whole pile a texture that bagged greens never do. The leaves wilted down exactly the way you want, silky without going to mush. I have cooked a lot of collards over the years and I am calling it: this chard just jumped them in my wilted-greens rotation.

one pan, no drama

The bacon rendered first and everything cooked in its fat. Onions soft and golden, chard stems in for a couple of minutes, then the leaves piled on with a splash of water and a lid until they went silky. A squeeze of lemon at the end to keep all that richness honest. Then the ribeye went onto the Made In carbon steel griddle, screaming hot, a hard sear on each side, butter spooned over it in the last minute. The corn got cut off the cob and crisped in the same pan while the steak rested, picking up the bacon fat and a little char. Full plate, basically one skillet. I wrote the whole thing up as a recipe (seared steak with bacon-braised chard and skillet corn) if you want the order of operations.

The ribeye was candy. The bacon was candy. The corn, sweet and a little smoky, was candy. And still, the line at the table was about the greens. Everybody emptied their plate, which in this house is the only review that counts.

So here is my pitch: the next time you are reaching for collards, find a bunch of chard with stems that look like that instead. Buy it from someone who grew it a mile away if you can. It might quietly steal your dinner too.