waiting, 2012
We saw a basket of small artichokes while visiting our favorite farm stand yesterday. The stand is the type with produce picked right behind it, a scale, notepad, dirty pen, and wooden money box. I love this place.
I'm a little intimidated by artichokes, but with Chris's encouragement decided to take six home. They were each about the size of a humble cupcake. And very pretty, green tinged with purple. I'm not sure of the variety, but I do recall reading no chokes! on the sign. This seemed a good thing.
Here's what I learned.
Trimming them was somewhat meditative, like shelling peas or snipping the stem ends off green beans. I used this guide and let this recipe serve as inspiration.
I skipped the lemon, garlic, red pepper, and parsley. Not because these ingredients wouldn't have been terrific, I just didn't have them on hand. I did quarter the trimmed artichokes and I did saute them in olive oil and sprinkle them with sea salt and coarse ground pepper while waiting to see them just begin to brown.
But before any of this I remembered I had some leftover anchovy breadcrumbs from a recent dinner. Rachel changed my life with these. I'm sure I've mentioned them before. Thank you, Rachel.
So, just as my artichokes began to brown I sprinkled a generous portion of anchovy breadcrumbs into the pan and tossed the artichokes around to coat them and heat everything through. I tipped it all onto a dish and we shared it as a first course. Fabulous experiment results!
We should have purchased twice as many.
Oh, and guess what else happened yesterday. We saw our first badger. Pretty amazing. They are bold and handsome little creatures.
how funny, denise; sounds like I was at the same farm stand on sunday in bolinas! we stopped for cucumbers and onions and kale. then we stumbled upon the most magnificent bramble of wild blackberries and came home with more than we know what to do with! now I wish I would've gotten some of those little artichokes, too...
ReplyDeleteYou pegged it, Valeda. We were in Bolinas. Don't you love that stand? We picked up onions and kale too. Our West Marin produce loyalty is split between this Bolinas stand (Gospel Flat Farm) and Jack's stand (Wild Blue Farm) at the Point Reyes Farmers Market. It's been a great summer. Enjoy those blackberries!
DeleteYou are brave. I have yet to conquer my fear of the artichoke. Your preparation sounded beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI'm more brave when Chris gives me a nudge. You'd prepare those little artichokes like nobody's business, Tracy. I know it.
Deletemmm globe artichokes! I never tried, but probably time to change it;)
ReplyDeletecollision eye into the eye with the serious lone wolf it is a real treat;)
I am greeting from Poland!
Hello Monika in Poland. Welcome. I hope you do try to prepare some artichokes and enjoy them.
DeleteWe both have windowsill pictures today, we are in tune. I like the sound of your artichoke supper, thats how I would cook them. The anchovy crumbs, now it's been a long time. Noted.
ReplyDeleteYour windowsill looks quite inviting, Rachel. And I see anchovies are again involved. Excellent!
DeleteArtichokes yes a 1000 times yes.
ReplyDeleteAnd I love this preparation, very similar to ones I ate in Venice. ( Isn't that nice to be able to say)?
Badgers, I don't know. Kind of creeping me out here.
so yes to artichokes, maybe to badgers.
xo Jane
Badgers can be creepy, Jane, the honey badger even more than the American. Have you seen the honey badger video? Rather crass, but I must admit to laughing out loud multiple times while viewing...
DeleteThat is hands down cool! The artichokes cooked beautifully and the badger sighting.
ReplyDelete1. You decorated with artichokes! How delightful. 2. Anchovies taste so much better than I ever expected them to. 3. I've been intimidated by artichokes... Maybe I'll let them into my world now.
ReplyDeleteI love anchovies madly, but this is a combo I have never tried. I am very curious now, in a culinary way.
ReplyDeleteGood badger sighting;)
Consider the artichoke.
ReplyDeleteIt is a wonderful thorny flower with a heart of gold. I am a fan. Glad you became one too. And anchovy breadcrumbs are a classic Italian combination, also great on cauliflower.
Oh I think this may have given me the courage to try cooking artichokes. I always gaze at them longingly at the market, but confess to feeling somewhat intimidated by them... And how wonderful to spy a badger - brings to mind the stories of A A Milne.
ReplyDeleteThese small artichokes are a treasure,and I love to saute them as well.Love your addition of anchovy breadcrumbs.
ReplyDeleteSounds delicious Denise!
ReplyDeleteBadgers and a delicious find at a true farmers stand?
ReplyDeleteWhat a great day.
I love that photo. And thanks for introducing me to anchovy breadcrumbs. How did I not know about those, with my deep love of anchovies?! Wow. There is always a next time, so buy 12 and go crazy!
ReplyDeleteYou had me there at artichokes and then you added anchovy breadcrumbs into the mix and my stomach audibly grumbled. Yum!
ReplyDeletewonderful-wonderful. artichokes don't grow well in the South, so I'll have to wait and see of some come to market, the long way. small and young and tender as you have described would be sensational, especially with Rach's anchovy crumbs.
ReplyDeletei love those kind of farm stands too. i think i had one in a past life . . ;)
ReplyDeleteI'm with you completely as to the almost meditative qualities of trimming artichokes or shelling peas and the glee at sighting a BADGER. A badger! Such excitement. Such simple and fabulous excitement.
ReplyDeleteHere's to the autumn yielding more treasure,
g
(The American badger (naturally) looks so very different to the Eurasian badger... and both I'd happily invite to dine with me in my den, were they interested. I grew up on The Wind in the Willows and it shows.)
ReplyDeleteHoly smokes, this sounds amazing. Once I am back in the city I will seek out some baby artichokes (not hard in the Italian neighbourhood that I live in) make some anchovy breadcrumbs, savour the delicious results and think of you!
ReplyDelete