Artichokes – Grow. Cook. Eat.

May 10, 2010

Day 60 (Recipe: Pan Fried Artichokes with Arugula)

I planted my first lettuce seeds 60 days ago, and today I had my first significant harvest – a full gallon of arugula, mizuna and tatsoi. The smaller, earlier cuttings made for lovely garnishes on pizzas and flatbreads.

Some of the plants have already started to bolt. Temperatures have soared into the 80’s for the last week or so, and the plants are not happy. They’ve developed thick stalks and have begun the process of going to seed. While I love this unseasonably warm spring, the lettuce production will taper quickly. On the bright side, the leaves are spicier than usual.

Arugula does not need much flavor enhancement, just a simple dressing of olive oil and garlic. With a garnish of baby artichokes and fava beans, this is a quintessentially spring salad.

Pan Fried Artichokes with Arugula

2 artichokes, or 4 baby artichokes
1 bunch arugula, trimmed and washed
6 slices prosciutto
6 tbs. olive oil
4 cloves garlic, sliced
4 tbs. shaved Parmesan cheese
1 tbs. lemon juice
Fava beans, blanched
salt and pepper to taste

Clean artichokes: Trim the stem by ½ inch. Cut away the tough outer green skin. Trim away tough out leaves, until left with the white hearts. If using large artichokes, cut in half, and cut out fuzzy choke.

Slice the hearts as thin as possible.

Heat 2 tbs. olive oil in a pan. Add the artichokes, season with salt and pepper and stir fry for a few minutes until they start to brown. Add the garlic, and continue cooking for 2 minutes more, or until the garlic is lightly browned. Add lemon juice.

Toss the artichokes with the arugula. Sprinkle with prosciutto, favas and Parmesan.

May 4, 2010

Intrepid Forager (Recipe: Artichoke Pizza)

Hundreds of years ago, some brave and patient soul stumbled across the artichoke plant and decided to eat it. He was brave for wanting to put something so fibrous and prickly into his mouth. And patient… because I’m sure the first attempt at eating the artichoke was not a pleasant one. Somehow, this adventurous person figured out that we must trim the artichoke and then cook it, either by steaming or braising.

What our culinary ancestors discovered, the Italians improved upon, and my former boss Lydia Shire further embellished. Her standard artichoke preparation was braised in olive oil with capers, garlic, parsley and anchovies. The olive oil tamed the acrid after-taste that makes artichokes so difficult to pair with wine. And the anchovies lend a salty je ne sais quoi (in the same way that fish sauce gives Vietnamese and Thai food depth).

These artichokes are wonderful in risotto or roasted and stuffed. My favorite preparation from Lydia was the skillet pizza – a white pizza topped with the parmesan, St. Andre cheese and truffle oil. Currently, I don’t have truffle oil in my pantry, but I did have some first cuttings of arugula and scallions in the garden, which lightened the otherwise rich dish.

Artichoke Pizza

pizza dough, store-bought or home-made
1 shallot, sliced
4 garlic cloves, sliced
2 scallion, cut in rounds
2 braised artichokes
3 oz. St. andre cheese
2 oz. ricotta salata, grated
2 oz. parmesan, grate
1/4 cup olive oil

Sweat shallots and garlic in olive oil.
Form dough in a well oiled skillet.
Garnish pizza with artichokes, garlic and shallots, cheeses and scallions

March 30, 2009

Harbinger of Spring

My dad grew up in the forties and fifties in a small town in western Pennsylvania. Fish came frozen and breaded, and vegetables were canned. When he went to graduate school in Manhattan, he discovered all sorts of new foods. One of them was during a date to a fine French restaurant. His girlfriend ordered artichokes and he followed along. As he watched her eat, pulling back the leaves and daintily nibbling the heart away from the leaves with her teeth , he thought, "This is how a proper woman eats artichokes, surely real men eat the whole leaf." Much to his discomfort, he discovered that real men also eat artichokes by nibbling off the heart from the leaves.

Artichokes grow in warm climates with cool nights: the quintessential spring climate of their native Mediterranean. I've read that they can grow in New England too, but require starting the seeds indoors and full sun when planted outside. Given my ability to start seeds inside and the conditions of my yard, I will leave the growing to others, and purchase them at my favorite green grocer. Look for tightly closed globes — as the leaves start to open the hearts turn bitter and tough.

I typically braise artichokes in olive oil. This tenderizes the heart as well as the inner leaves, and takes away the tart after taste that makes artichokes so hard to pair with wine. Once braised, I'll roast them for a crispy exterior, top them on pizza with St. Andre cheese or mix them in with risotto. This recipe uses a lot of anchovies, which is great if you have an abundance.

Braised artichokes

4 artichokes
1 cup olive oil
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup anchovies
1/2 cup garlic
1/2 cup capers
1/2 cup parsley
salt and pepper to taste

1. Clean artichokes by cutting back tough outer leaves and trimming stem back to the white part. Cut artichokes in half and scoop out the fuzzy choke.

2. In food processor, gently puree anchovies, garlic, capers and parsley.

3. Bring olive oil to a boil in an oven proof pot with caper mixture. Add artichokes and water. Cover with foil and cook in the oven for 45 minutes or until leaves are tender.