The artichoke: a singular dining experience
It occurred to me recently that I haven’t shared a recipe with my readers. I enjoy cooking, although I’m not extremely inventive. When I find something that works, it stays in the rotation.
So, what works? Well, it’s got to taste good, first of all. And that means the whole family has to enjoy it. Second, it can’t take more than 45 minutes to prepare, and by 45, I mean 30. Third, it helps if it brings some sort of comfort, whether it’s a creamy broccoli soup on a winter night or a tangy pasta salad at the end of a sweltering summer day.
No matter the season, there’s one item I always come back to. It’s the artichoke, a spiny oddity — the plant equivalent of an armored armadillo. I was raised by native New Yorkers, so I feel that some of my tastes run more toward things a lot of Southerners aren’t as familiar with. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve slung a bag of these strange-looking vegetables up on a grocery store conveyor belt only to have the cashier ask, “What … are these?”
I dutifully identify them, and if the person behind the counter seems at all interested, I expand the introduction to include a short tutorial on how to eat a fresh artichoke. And that’s what I plan to do with you today. But first: a little more discussion about one of my childhood comfort foods.
So, artichokes are something I ate growing up, and they were always a treat. I introduced them to my own children pretty early on, and they caught my enthusiasm. We treat the artichoke, steamed to perfection in the microwave, as its own course. Trust me, it’s a messy endeavor with little people, and it’s easier to save it for last. Plus, the anticipation is fun.
I find the consumption of an artichoke involves barbaric language, which is entertaining for grownups and small people alike. I find myself saying things like: “Watch out for the spines — they’ll stab you! Scrape the meat off with your teeth! I need a knife to chop out this hair! OK, who wants a piece of the heart?”
You see, a fresh-steamed artichoke must be torn down to its tender-yet-meaty heart — the prize at the end of a long work session. The rubbery leaves that encase said heart have portions of that meat that one can rake off with their incisors. This part of the process is quite enjoyable as a lemon-butter dip is involved that enhances the naturally earthy, buttery taste of the artichoke. One must avoid being impaled upon tiny spines on the end of each leaf — they grow increasingly sharper the farther you advance toward the heart.
After you have reached and discarded the innermost leaves — paper thin and too spiny to trouble with in my opinion — you find the namesake choke. You see, the artichoke is actually a flower bud, and if allowed to bloom, this choke would eventually host a vibrant purple and spiky bloom. For simplicity when talking with my children, I refer to this portion as “hair.” I like to use a butter knife to scrape this layer away to reveal the heart. It’s the crown jewel of what always turns into a brutish feeding session with butter sauce running down chins and splotched on the table and discarded leaves mounded up in a spent and verdant pile.
Once readied, the heart can be split up pretty easily, and we take turns dipping our coveted portions in the remaining sauce. And then it’s over. We toss the leaves into a bucket for our chickens to pick through later, and we wash the slick butter from our hands and faces.
So, there you have it. One of my favorite culinary experiences. You can enjoy it for lunch or dinner. I haven’t tried it for breakfast, but that might be an idea.
Here’s how I prepare my artichokes:
Select an artichoke from your grocery store’s fresh produce section. I prefer the largest ones as they are sold by the unit and can be expensive.
Find a deep but somewhat narrow microwave-safe bowl. (Having a matching cover is a plus.) Makes sure it’s deep enough to encompass the artichoke with an inch or so to spare.
Put a couple of inches of water in this container and plop the artichoke in. Top with microwave-safe cover that will stay in place. Cook on high 10 minutes.
After cooking, use potholders to remove container with artichoke. Place in sink. Allow to cool for a few minutes before carefully (avoiding the steam!) draining water into sink. Fill to cover artichoke with cool water.
In small, microwave-safe bowl, place three tablespoons butter. Melt for 25 seconds or so in microwave. Add about 4 1/2 tablespoons lemon juice. Adjust ratio depending on taste.
Artichoke should be cool enough for you to dump water and handle at this point. Do so, but leave it in its container. Set out a container for discarded leaves and begin tearing, dipping and devouring.
Enjoy!