Tackling an Artichoke
Why bother with eating a thistle?
Artichokes are one of the first seasonal foods I remember eating. Living in northern California, just a breath away from where artichokes filled the inland fields, made them abundantly available. Not the ultra-expensive luxury they are where I reside now, where ice-laden bins burst with gargantuan, spiny globes that cost as much as an appetizer in a good restaurant. But when I was in elementary school, and my family was living frugally since my dad had gone back to college, we just ate local and seasonal. Because it was cheap, not trendy. And artichokes were never a luxury, just something to look forward to once the holidays were over. The labor intensity of eating a steamed artichoke never crossed my mind—they just were what they were. Whoever thought about eating what basically are thistles must have really been hungry. My mom never clipped the sharp "prickers" as my sister called them. Getting a few stabs was just part of the fun, a rocky steppingstone on the road to the heart of the matter. Dipping the ends of each leaf was also part of the fun—I guess the same kid-appeal of any finger food. Melted butter was always an option, but the number one choice at my house was a homemade dressing of Miracle Whip (never mayo) and ketchup. Pale coral in color, thick, rich & slightly sweet.
In later years, once I was long gone from artichoke country, the food I craved when I was expecting my first child was an artichoke—steamed in a bit of wine and lemon juice. Consumed, leaf by leaf, with nothing at all, just the slightly tart flavor as my teeth pulled the ends off each one. And anticipating the prize at the center of it all—a tender heart, not to be shared. Though I was afraid my husband might die of heart failure before the baby was born since he ate nearly a stick of butter with each of his own artichokes.
If you’d like more info about the origins of eating large thistles, Gillian Riley’s Oxford Companion to Italian Food, an excellent tome about Italian food, describes their Mediterranean history as best we know it. And she shares the Italian approach—leaving the work of preparing artichokes to the cook versus the diner. But I have to say that some preparations, like stuffing (which requires a lot of trimming & removal of the hairy choke) or deep frying, make what I feel is a simple luxury too much fuss.
Artichokes for some are nothing more than a reluctant player in a snack dip, a token veg in a vehicle for eating lots of cream cheese, mayo, and cheese. Or marinated in herby olive oil, to be fished out of small jars for salads. Neither iteration do them justice. So, here’s the skinny on mastering those medium to large globe artichokes. And read on for recipes for “baby” artichokes that can be eaten whole and one for using canned artichokes—which I don’t mind when fresh are entirely out of season.
Step by step…
1. Lay the artichokes on their sides & slice the top off each one (about ½ inch or as much as the top quarter); rub the cut part with half a lemon (they will brown when expose to air.)
2. Peel/snap off the small bottom leaves and trim the stem (I always look for thick stems, leaving about an inch or two at the bottom—that stem leads to the meaty heart and is also a choice part to eat.)
3. Using your kitchen shears, snip off the top thorns of each leaf (unless you don’t care about a few finger pricks.
4. Place a steamer basket in the bottom of a large kettle; add a couple inches of water (or I sometimes skip the steamer basket & just put the artichokes into the kettle with some water, wine, and a little lemon juice.) Arrange the artichokes in the basket (you may only be able to do 2-3 at a time depending on size), upside down.
5. Cover the kettle and bring to steady simmer; steam the artichokes for about 40 minutes or until a paring knife inserted in the base slides in easily. Remove the artichokes to a large plate with tongs.
6. If you’d like, you can remove the center of the artichokes with a spoon before serving them with whatever sauce you’d like. Enjoy one leaf at a time, naked (the leaves, not you—though that’s your choice) or dipped in herb butter or a garlicky aioli (see below).
ROASTED BABY ARTICHOKE & POTATO SALAD
Makes 4 servings
Baby artichokes are really fully grown—they’re just a smaller variety when ready to be harvested. They're a great source of vitamin C, folate, fiber, and minerals—in addition to being beautiful and a seasonal treat. Try to find (or pick your own) dandelion greens, too, as they have the same fleeting season.
DRESSING
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons tarragon or red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon
SALAD
12 baby artichokes, tough outer leaves removed, stem trimmed, halved lengthwise
1-1/2 lbs. baby Yukon gold potatoes, halved
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken thighs*
8 cups torn curly endive or spring dandelion greens
Whole, briny Greek olives
DIRECTIONS
1. Whisk dressing ingredients together until well blended. Set aside.
2. Heat oven to 425˚F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with foil. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add artichokes and potatoes; reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes. Drain well.
3. Arrange vegetables on baking sheet; drizzle with 1 tablespoon olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Place in oven; roast 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
4. Nestle the chicken thighs in among vegetables; drizzle with 1 tablespoon of the dressing. Roast about 20 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink in center and vegetables are golden brown, stirring occasionally.
5. Cut chicken into bite-size pieces. Arrange greens on plates; top with artichokes, potatoes, and chicken. Drizzle with remaining dressing and garnish with olives.
*Large shrimp would be a terrific sub for the chicken—you could grill them on skewers or sauté them with lots of garlic while the vegetables are roasting.
AÏOLI
Makes about 2 cups
Aïoli is just a thick, garlicky dressing that has origins in southern France and Spain—sort of a cousin to mayonnaise. It’s often made with raw garlic, but here I’m calling for roasted garlic. The pungency of the garlic is tamed and won’t hang on your breat the way raw garlic can. It’s easy to roast garlic ahead of when you want to use it—just slice off the top of a whole head, lay it on a square of foil & drizzle with a little olive oil. Wrap up and roast at 375˚F for 45-50 minutes—or if you’re smoking meat on the grill, throw the garlic packet in and let it slow-roast.
INGREDIENTS
16 cloves roasted garlic (from a grocery store olive bar or roasting a whole head, wrapped in foil, in the oven or on the grill until very tender)
1/3 cup sprigs/leaves fresh tarragon or flat-leaf parsley
Coarse salt
3 large pasteurized egg yolks
1-1/2 cups extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
DIRECTIONS
1. Place garlic and herbs in a mini chopper or blender with a dash of salt. Process until smooth.
2. Add egg yolks; process until blended. Slowly start adding the oil with the motor running until the mixture is thick and glossy. Add the lemon juice and process another few seconds until the aïoli is smooth.
3. Store in a jar, refrigerated, for up to 1-1/2 weeks. Serve this not only with artichokes, but as a spread on sandwiches, dressing for grilled meats, or for dipping roasted (or air-fried) potato wedges.
GRILLED CHICKEN in ARTICHOKE TOMATO BROTH
Makes 4 servings
This brothy chicken dish, with grilled chicken breasts or thighs, is wonderful spooned over a large spoonful of tender orzo or other small pasta. Canned artichoke hearts are a very nice off the shelf pantry item—they’re a good salad partner or are nice on a mezze or charcuterie tray that include dips/sauces.
INGREDIENTS
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
2 shallots, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 can (14 ounces) quartered artichoke hearts, drained
1/2 cup dry white wine or low-sodium chicken broth
1-1/2 cups rich chicken broth
1 can (14-1/2 ounces) fire-roasted diced tomatoes, undrained
Hot cooked whole-wheat orzo pasta, or whatever pasta you like
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
Grated parmesan cheese, if you’d like
DIRECTIONS
1. Rub 1 tablespoon olive oil on the chicken; season with salt and pepper. Heat a to medium-high heat (or use a grill pan on your cooktop). Cook the chicken for 8 to 10 minutes, turning once, until no longer pink in center.
2. Heat remaining 1 tablespoon oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Add shallots; sauté for 1 minute. Add garlic and artichokes; cook and stir about 5 minutes or until lightly golden brown. Pour in white wine and stir, scraping the browned bits off the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon. Stir in the broth, tomatoes and juice; season with salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer.
3. Ladle the artichoke and tomato broth over the pasta in shallow bowls. Top with the grilled chicken. Sprinkle with thyme and parmesan cheese.