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Wilted Curly Endive — A Wigilia Side for the Table That Holds Everything

Wigilia in our house, second year hosting. Megan is eight months pregnant and she made pierogi with me, standing at the counter sideways, rolling dough with one hand and supporting her belly with the other. Her pierogi are as good as mine now. Maybe better. I won't admit this publicly but I suspect it privately and it fills me with pride, not competition. She is carrying our son and making pierogi and she is extraordinary.

Tom said grace in Polish. The prayer sounds different in our house — the acoustics are different, the room is warmer, the table is bigger. But the words are the same. The same terrible Polish. The same ancient prayer. The same devotion to a tradition that started in a kitchen in Krakow and traveled through Ellis Island and Bay View and landed here, at this table, in this house, where a pregnant woman and her husband serve twelve dishes to two families who have become one.

The extra place was set. This year, it felt different. The extra place is for the unexpected guest, but in four weeks, the unexpected guest will be our son. In four weeks, there will be a high chair at this table. In four weeks, the empty seat will be filled.

Christmas morning: pancakes, as always. The last Christmas morning as just the two of us. Next year, there will be three. Next year, there will be a baby in a onesie and torn wrapping paper on the floor and chaos that we chose. Next year, everything changes. This year, pancakes. This year, peace. This year, the quiet before.

The twelve dishes of Wigilia are never about any single one of them — they’re about the wholeness of the table, each dish doing its quiet part. This wilted curly endive is exactly that kind of dish: unassuming, slightly bitter, warm, and grounding in a way that lets the pierogi and the prayer and the extra place setting be the center of things. It was on our table that night, and it will be on our table next year, when there are three of us.

Wilted Curly Endive

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 large head curly endive, torn into bite-sized pieces (about 10 cups)
  • 4 slices bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces (omit for meatless Wigilia; substitute 2 tbsp olive oil)
  • 1/4 cup white wine vinegar
  • 1 tbsp sugar
  • 1/2 tsp salt
  • 1/4 tsp black pepper
  • 2 hard-boiled eggs, sliced (optional, for garnish)
  • 3 green onions, thinly sliced

Instructions

  1. Prep the greens. Wash and dry the curly endive thoroughly. Tear into bite-sized pieces and place in a large heatproof serving bowl. Scatter sliced green onions over the top.
  2. Cook the bacon (or heat the oil). In a medium skillet over medium heat, cook bacon pieces until crisp, about 6–8 minutes, stirring occasionally. For a meatless version, warm olive oil over medium heat until shimmering. Do not drain the fat (or oil).
  3. Make the warm dressing. Carefully add the white wine vinegar, sugar, salt, and pepper directly to the skillet with the bacon drippings or oil. Stir to combine and bring just to a simmer, about 1 minute.
  4. Wilt the endive. Immediately pour the hot dressing over the curly endive. Toss quickly and thoroughly — the heat will gently wilt the greens without fully cooking them. Work fast so you keep a little texture.
  5. Plate and serve. Transfer to a serving dish. Arrange hard-boiled egg slices on top if using. Serve immediately while still warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 95 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 7g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 280mg

Jake Kowalski
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 506 of Jake’s 30-year story · Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jake is a twenty-nine-year-old brewery worker, newlywed, and proud Polish-American from Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood. He didn't start cooking until his grandmother Babcia Helen passed away and left behind a stack of grease-stained recipe cards. Now he makes pierogi from scratch, smokes meats on a balcony smoker his landlord pretends not to notice, and writes for guys who want to cook good food but don't know a roux from a rub.

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