Braised Artichokes for Small Bites Sunday

Who first decided that artichokes would be a good thing to eat? Who looked at the prickly-thistled plant and determined, "Must have that for dinner!" I had this discussion with my cousin in New York (which segued into "How did beer happen" and "the whys and wonders of having dogs and cats instead of grandchildren") as well as a myriad of topics that cousins discuss when they haven't seen each other for years.

I would have liked to have been there - at the first artichoke feast. (I'd also like to be at the first production of Hamlet where nobody know that everyone dies at the end. Sorry if I spoiled the ending for you.)  The first artichoke feast must have happened early. By the time of the Romans, artichokes were cultivated and widely eaten. I suspect we have hunger pangs and the early foragers to thanks for the glories of this thistle.

This is so simple. Braised in water, wine and lemon, they become succulently soft and tender in 30 minutes. The stems (with the outer layer peeled) are edible. My kids watched me prep them and thought they were a lot of work to "get to the good stuff." But in just minutes while chatting with the family, the outer leaves of 2 were peeled, the tips were cut off and the artichoke was slashed in half to get rid of the choke. And I might add - the kids were very happy participants in the eating of the thistle.

If you're new to artichokes, Ciao Chow Linda has a primer on "How to Trim an Artichoke." Find it here.

The Ardent Epicure has a post on all-things-artichoke. Find it here.

Braised Artichokes (from Saveur and Edythe Grace Gresio Schmidt aka "Mom")- serves 4*
1/4 cup olive oil
2 cloves garlic
1/4 cup dry white wine
2 large artichokes (outer leaves peeled, trimmed and halved lengthwise, choke removed)
2 lemons, halved and juiced
salt to taste (just a little)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter - sliced thin (use Earth Balance to keep it vegan)
Fresh ground pepper to serve

*If you're Italian or used to artichokes, you're likely nodding your head because you know this recipe. It's the easiest of artichoke recipes. You're thinking of your own recipe - stuffed artichokes, fried, broiled, grilled. But if artichokes ever intimidated you - start with this easy recipe. Success breeds later success.

Braised Artichoke Preparation:
In a large stockpot, heat oil over medium heat. Add garlic. Saute till almost browned. (1-2 minutes) Add wine, artichokes, lemon juice, lemon halves, salt and about 8-10 cups of water (really just enough to cover the artichokes). Bring to boil, then reduce heat to medium low and gently boil for 30 minutes. Transfer artichokes to platter and keep warm. Discard all but 2 cups of braising liquid. Return pan with liquid to medium high heat. Add butter. Cook until thickened (about 15 minutes). Mine did not thicken much! Season to taste with salt and pepper and spoon sauce over artichokes. Serve.

It's just a wonderful slurpy mess. I am sure there is a correlation between messy food and laughter at the table. I'm surprised nobody has done a study about that. You're eating a thistle covered in liquid. Messy, earthy, sensual - what's not to like? (And I could continue to sing the merits of cracking crab legs at the table - but I'll spare you.)

It has been written that Zeus came to earth (as he frequently did) and spied a young beauty (as he often did) and seduced her (as he always did). With her consent, he brought her back to Mount Olympus (unbeknownst to Hera). But the young girl was homesick and sneaked back to earth to visit her mom. Zeus was enraged and hurled her back to earth where she became planted and grew - as an artichoke! I suppose there are worse things.

We never knew when an artichoke would appear in the home. I suspect because my mother never "planned" them. They came home when they were looking good to her at the market. She would simply cut the pricklies off the top of the leaves and simmer them whole in water, wine. lemon and herbs. Then serve them cold with dipping sauces. For the tough leaves - we would scrape off the tender inner portion with our teeth. We'd work our way down to the choke. Each leaf unearthed a more tender one - and as a child - this was heaven. It was partly a game - to avoid pricklies and partly an education in deliciousness.

I know it's just a tad early for Small Bites Sunday but then I realized - I can do this - it's my blog! Have a grand week, all!

You might also like: Artichoke Gratin 

50 Women Game Changers (in Food) #29 Betty Fussell - Green Bean Salad

Green beans - with apologies to my adopted state - are not supposed to drown in a cream of mushroom casserole. Nor do I believe that their destiny is a puree. "Cream of green beans" does not compute. It was not what this vegetable was put on this earth for - it is made for crunch. It is made for simple. It is assertive enough that if you gussy it up with too many things, it complains.

So for this Week's Game Changer (Betty Fussell), I am going with green beans. Does a person who blogs twice a week really need to pick the simplest recipe on the planet? Yes. When it works. And while I have been simmering celeriac, beans, tomatoes, carrots, garlic and onions in a minestrone, I have been chomping away at the green beans. And it isn't going to make it to dinner, because I'm not the only one chomping away - daughter and husband have been sneaking the beans from the plate when they think I am typing and stirring.

Betty Fussell is a scholar, a writer and her connection to food is how it connects with our culture - with the American way of life. Her writings often have a feminist twist and she is not afraid to have her say on the corn industry, the beef industry, the Madison Avenue's advertising establishment or the way Americans feel about the food they consume. She is opinionated. Savvy. And in a sense a food anthropologist - but writing of the present in context of the past. Her Master's Degree is from Radcliffe, her PhD is from Rutgers and she has taught literature and film at the New School for Social Research and writing at Columbia University. Ms. Fussell wears many hats and looks exceedingly good in all of them. 

(Betty Fussell photographed by Norma Jean Roy for Vogue, August 2008)

Her numerous accolades and awards can be found here. But if you really want to have some fun, read her 
interviews - the leave you wanting more of the conversation. Find them here. And you have to know I loved, loved, loved that her book My Kitchen Wars was turned into a one-woman play. 

For those who read cookbooks not just for recipes, I think Ms. Fussell's quote below will resonate with you.

"Cookbooks are much more than collections of instructions to get dinner on the table. From our earliest culinary records  through the present (and beyond, we predict), cookbooks document culture,  technology, identity, and even aspirations. What makes cookbooks a unique  resource for historians, anthropologists, sociologists and others is that most  cookbooks do this unconsciously; that is, in the guise of filling a  practical need for practical instruction, cookbooks teach the careful reader about  the values, needs, and desires of the cookbook audience."

Fussell sees no need for take-out when simple recipes such as these green beans can be made in a few minutes. She calls it bistro fare and it is my favorite way to eat. I have always been partial to bistros and trattorias - there's a simplicity that begs for "in-season" and food that does not have jet lag. I have been eating this salad for decades. Sometimes I throw on some chopped red pepper, it's also good with a few tablespoons of pesto. Below is Fussell's version. This will not work with frozen or canned string beans.

Green Bean Salad with Walnuts

2 pounds green beans 

1/3 cup walnut oil (I used less)

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (she also suggests 1 tbl of balsamic - I suggest champagne vinegar)

salt and pepper to taste

1/2 cup chopped, toasted, walnuts

Parboil the green beans for 3-10 minutes (I did 3) in salted, boiling water. Drain and rinse thoroughly with cold water. In a small bowl, combine oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper - whisk. Pour over green beans and toss. Scatter chopped walnuts over all.

To get a sense of this exciting Game-Changer, take some time to view the video below. "The People Who Feed Us" a film by Staci Strauss & Craig McCord chatting with Betty Fussell in her NYC apartment.

Please check out what the other bloggers are doing for Week 28 of Female Chef Gourmet Game Changers. And if you want to join in the fun, e-mail Mary at  One Perfect Bite. Mary started this delectable journey. 

Val - More Than Burnt Toast, Joanne - Eats Well With Others, Taryn - Have Kitchen Will Feed

Susan - The Spice Garden, Claudia - A Seasonal Cook in Turkey, Heather - girlichef,

Miranda - Mangoes and Chutney, Jeanette - Healthy Living, April - Abby Sweets

Katie - Making Michael Pollan Proud, Mary - One Perfect Bite, Kathleen - Bake Away with Me

Viola - The Life is Good Kitchen, Sue - The View from Great Island, Barbara - Movable Feasts

Kathleen - Gonna Want Seconds, Amy - Beloved Green, Linda - Ciao Chow Linda

Linda A - There and Back Again, Martha - Lines from Linderhof, Nancy - Picadillo

Mireya - My Healthy Eating Habits, Veronica - My Catholic Kitchen

Annie - Most Lovely Things

Sformato di Spinaci - A Spinach Flan for you

I love theatre. I adore theatre. It's breathing to me. I've gone from an often-unemployed-but-professional actress to "employed -yay" theatre teacher to "employed - yay" director to "freelance but produced - yay" playwright. I love figuring out the lights, playing with sound, agonizing between words and creating characters. Except when I don't love it and then I start to wax poetical about every other profession in the world (except maybe Toll Booth Operator).

I love blogging. Adore it. Except for those times when there is no time and I think I should be getting something up - only I have nothing to say and last week's cooking was not inspired and I don't want a cookbook deal and the days have been dark and I'm just going to use the stupid flash - ....and I'm trying to understand physics for a play I never should have decided to write ... so I haven't visited anyone....and then ... I just sit and read blogs. And in no time, I'm back to loving blogging.

It's the community. Sometimes you share a story and I nod. Then, you unveil a recipe and I'm bewitched. You awaken a sense memory in me and I need to follow that road. And you do unexpected generous things that don't call attention to yourself - you just do it. An example of your generosity and kindness is this recipe - that came to me through a blogger. If you don't yet know Ciao Chow Linda I beg you to go over there. Make it a New Year's resolution - because this one you will keep!And get ready to cook (and smile).

In November I wrote about a ricotta sformato I had made - inspired by the restaurant Il Cibreo in Florence.
Ciao Chow Linda asked me if I had picked up their little cookbook and I replied, "Sadly no and I regret it."

One week later I received a copy of the pamphlet and attached to it was an Italian postcard that charmed which told me that she sent what she considered the best and the brightest recipes and I need to make the yellow pepper soup (will do). But first I had my heart set on the Sformato di Spinaci (Spinach flan). The recipe serves 8, so I halved it and it sill fed 6. It's a graceful puddle of green. Chef Fabio Picchi states:

"If you didn't have to deal with the difficulty of taking the flan out of the pan, this dish would be remarkably simple. Having overcome this little obstacle, and we shall see how, in my opinion this is a very fine dish and one that is not difficult to make."

Having been forewarned about taking it out of the pan (it is indeed a mass of softness), I thought about doing these in individual ramekins but I wanted to see the texture. Next time I will do the ramekins. But I don't regret doing it in one pan. I'm a sucker for turning vegetables into whispers.

Sformato di Spinaci - serves 8 generously
(I will give you Chef Picchi's measurements and then below - I will give you mine - and yes, the photos were taken with a flash - don't blink)
2 kg. Spinach
500 g. ricotta cheese
3 eggs
about 150 g. Parmesan cheese (freshly shredded)
nutmeg
120 g. - or about 1 cup extra virgin olive oil
salt - to taste

Spinach Flan - serves 4-6
30-35 ounces spinach
3/4 cup ricotta cheese (could use 1 cup)
2 eggs
1/4 cup Parmesan Cheese
nutmeg (to taste)
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
salt to taste

Wash the spinach and boil it in very little salt water - just till wilted. Drain it and squeeze out as much water as possible. Chop it up and add to a large bowl. (I saved the bowl and put all directly into the food processor.) Add all the ingredients to the bowl. Salt to taste. Then (my favorite recipe direction ever):

"If you have a food mixer, use it to make the mixture as smooth and uniform as possible; if you don't have one - either ask your next-door neighbor to lend you one, or when you chop up the spinach try to chop it up as finely as possible."

Put it in a medium sized baking bowl. The flan should be about four centimeters thick (mine was smaller and 2.54 centimeters equals 1 inch). Spread the mixture taking care to smooth the surface. Put the pan in the oven at 150 degrees C (about 300 degrees F) and leave it for a few minutes - just enough time for a thin film to form on the surface. (I only got a partial film.) Remove from oven, cover with tin foil and then you will need to check from time to time to see if the mixture is starting to swell (yes, Chef Picchio says you can open the oven - no problem - it's not a souffle).At that point, cover it well again and turn the oven down to 100 degrees C (about 212 F - and 215 F is just fine) and leave it for about 40 minutes.

To serve: Cut the flan into rectangular pieces (as you can see my shape didn't hold) and serve (preferably on heated plates) with tomato sauce or with a little melted butter and a dusting of Parmesan. I did the latter.

Chef Fabio Picchi's wonderful instructions on serving:

"I would advise you to carry out all the operations in the kitchen. To extract these rectangles without breaking them you will need to use rectangular spatulas: press lightly on two opposite sides, ease the pieces out and deposit them on the plates. If you need to use a finger to salvage a situation verging on disastrous, this will be understood, forgiven and justified even by the Hague Tribunal."

So there you have it - my flan - spread. The family didn't even look at the shape-shifter. They just ate. And sighed. Sighs tell a lot.

I thank you for all your kindnesses during the previous year. And I thank you for your blogs - your artistry and your nourishment. Food is necessary. Sharing elevates it. We are programmed to eat. We are also programmed to create. It's all somewhere in our DNA which is why we are a community. Buon Anno, friends. May 2012 bring you joy. And when it does - note it: in your blog, on a post-it-note attached to your computer or jotted down on the calendar. So no matter where you are on a given day - you have knowledge of the joy.

Ricotta and Spinach Gnocchi Badly Made

As soon as I saw the nickname of the gnocchi "malfatti" (badly made), I thought in all my under-achieving glory, "I could make that." And so I did. And it was ugly. I then served it with heaps of  fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano and made it uglier still.

And it was delicious. I fell in love with "no-fuss, earthy, plain but delicious." I had been in a new adventure with rodents - and was in no mood for fuss. Pippin (the non-mouse killing cat) had chased mouse-breath into the hall closet where I promptly shut the door, stuffed the bottom with towels and went back to work. Later I realized the mouse had been confined with 8 pounds of cat food. It was suggested to me that when I opened the door, I would find a fat mouse with an identity crisis.

I wanted food that I could roll and thump and form - badly. I didn't want pretty crimped edges. I wanted to swallow - the earth (sans rodents). This peasant-hearty, better if you have been mushroom-foraging all day (as opposed to mouse-foraging) - meal fit the bill.

My mother came over and kept swiping them from the baking pan. I finally heated some up, poured a few tablespoons of melted butter and scattered some Parmesan on top and made her a proper plate. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Ingredients - 8 first-course servings
(From Bon Appetit's May 2000 issue - I seem to be working my way through it)
4-6 ounce bags ready-to-use spinach (I used two large bags and a some handfuls of arugula)
2 cups whole milk ricotta
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmigiano- Reggiano
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 large egg yolks
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground peppers
Generous pinch of ground nutmeg

For serving:
1/4 cup butter
1/2 cup freshly-grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

Cook spinach in salted, boiling water until just wilted - about two minutes (really 1 minute will do it). Drain and squeeze out liquid (the hardest part of the process). Chop spinach.

Mix spinach, ricotta. 1/2 cup Parmesan, 1/2 cup flour, egg yolks, salt, pepper and nutmeg in bowl until sticky dough forms. Dust baking sheet with flour. (I over-dusted. I know that surprises you.) Using floured hands, roll 1/4 cup dough into 5 inch-long rope. Cut rope into 1-inch pieces. (I did this for awhile and then just started rolling 1-inch balls.) Roll each piece between hands to form an oval. (I formed a rectangle - it tastes the same.)

Working in batches, add gnocchi to a large pot of salted, boiling water. Boil until gnocchi rise to the surface and then cook 4 minutes longer. (I cooked about 8 at a time). Remove with slotted spoon.

Pour butter over gnocchi and toss with 1/2 cup Parmesan. Serve. Peasant food at its best.

(Can be made ahead: cover gnocchi, chill. Reheat in 400 degree F oven for about ten minutes).

In Tuscany these are also called "topini verdi." (Little green mice). No irony there.