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
This spring has been unseasonable pleasant and warm. I’ve been in the garden cleaning and planting almost every day this week. With the rhododendrons in bloom and the arugula ready for a harvest, it seemed only fitting to inaugurate patio-entertaining season.
I really don’t have enough arugula, mizuna and tat soi to make a salad yet, but they make a great garnish to grilled flat-bread. Tossed with a little oil, the soft leaves brighten the crispy bread and tangy ricotta topping.
And cheese straws are a perfect accompaniment to a crisp white wine or a gin and tonic.
Last week, a friend came over for dinner. Immediately when he walked in, he complained that the house was too cold, and could we please turn on the heat. He was right – the windows were wide open, outside temperatures were hovering in the low 50’s and inside wasn’t much warmer.
Normally, I’m more accommodating of friends’ requests, but on this evening I knew that closing the windows meant summer was over. And I wasn’t ready for that admission.
I acquiesced.
The garden has also succumbed to autumn. The blight finally overcame the tomatoes. And the cucumbers stopped growing just shy of being sweet.
With the last sweet cucumber, I made a relish to accompany spicy Thai Tod Mun. These fish cakes get their heat from red curry and brightness from kaffir lime leaves. They give warmth to summer’s last breath and welcome in the fall.
Thai Style Fish Cakes 1 lb. 2 oz. white fish filets, minced (use food processor if necessary) 5 tbs. red curry paste (more or less to taste) 4 tbs. fish sauce 1 egg, beaten 8 tbs. tapioca flour 2 tsp. baking powder 1 tbs. palm sugar or brown sugar 10 kaffir lime leaves, thinly sliced, stems discarded 8 Chinese long beans or string beans, thinly sliced
Oil for frying
Sauce 6 tbs. water 6 tbs. sugar 1 tbs. chilli powder 2 tbs. roasted peanuts – chopped 2 tbs. cucumber, thinly sliced ½ cup chopped cilantro
1. Make dipping sauce: put water, sugar and vinegar into a pan, bring to a boil, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Simmer for 5 minutes. Turn off heat and add chilli powder and cucumbers. Garnish with cilantro
2. Mix ingredients for fish cakes together in a bowl until thoroughly combined. Form into cakes.
3. Fry fish cakes in medium hot oil until golden brown on all sides. Drain on paper towel. Serve while still hot with sauce.
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.
There are three big reasons why Even’ Star Farm’s produce is superior to its competitors. Since it’s organic, we know that it has not been grown with synthetic pesticides or artificial fertilizers. This does not necessarily enhance the flavor, but it protects the environment and our natural resources. More importantly, because they sell only to local markets, the produce is able to ripen on the vine instead of in the back of a truck. The produce develops sweeter flavors and better texture. Most importantly, though, is how farmer Brett protects his gene line of seeds.
When I start my garden in the summer, I purchase seeds and seedlings from random suppliers. I still have the advantage of growing all-natural and fully ripening on the vine, but am beholden to their quality control.
Seed management is a rather straightforward process. For every crop, you save the most flavorful, hearty plants and harvest the seeds for the following year’s crop. The sheer volume of seeds necessary for production farm like Even’ Star means that one person could work solely on this project, and work full time. Further, the seeds are harvested when the farm is in peak production – essentially doubling an already full workload. In the midst of harvesting tomatoes, okra, eggplant and watermelon, the crew generates hundreds of pounds of seed!
Each crop has different criteria for ideal. For the ancho chilies, it’s the size, shape (perfect conical) and color (evenly red ripe). Meredith, who was charged this week with harvesting the breeders, had to taste each pepper to make sure the heat level was appropriate. Brett wanted just the slightest hint of spice. For the arugula, the seeds are saved from the hardiest plants that survive cold, frost and wind. The peachy mama’s which have an obscenely long maturation time, are bred to shorten that span. The tomato seeds are selected from the healthiest, disease-resistant plants. After several years of picking the best seeds, the gene lines get better and better. So good in fact, that Brett sells his seeds to Fedco in Waterville, ME – a national, highly regarded seed supplier. Even’ Star seeds sell for 4 times more than the equivalent “generic” variety.
You may recall that earlier this season, I harvested some of my broccoli raab seed for Brett. Because the raab had “wintered-over”, that is, it re-grew after being buried for 5 months under a blanket of snow and ice. Should Brett be able to grow raab from this seed, the plants will be more tolerant of cold weather.
To keep the workers/crew happy through all this work, I usually make them special lunches when I visit. One of their perennial favorites is arepas. The corn comes from Alan Sivak, whose farm is just 2 miles down the road.
Arepaswith Tomatillo Salsa
1 – 1 lb. bag hominy 4 ears corn 1 tbs. chopped garlic 4 scallions, chopped 2 tbs. chopped cilantro *or more 1 – 2 cups grated jack cheese 3 tbs. butter salt and pepper plain oil
3 green tomatoes or tomatillos, finely diced 1 red pepper, finely diced 1 onion, finely diced 1 tsp. Tabasco (or more to taste) 1 smoked tomatoes, chopped 1 tbs. lime juice 3 scallions, thinly sliced 2 tbs. chopped cilantro salt and pepper to taste
1. Cook hominy according to package directions. 2. Heat a large skillet. Melt butter. Add the corn, then the garlic. Cook over medium heat until the corn begins to roast and brown. 3. Drain hominy. Grind with a medium hole. Grind corn and garlic mixture as well. 4. Mix in by hand the jack cheese, scallion and cilantro. Season to taste with salt and pepper. 5. Form patties with dough. Pan fry in plain oil until crispy on both sides.
