I’ve been thinking quite a bit about locally grown food lately — not unusual for me by any means,  but my thoughts have just been more intensely focused.  So it shouldn’t be unusual for an article like “Butchers’ Banquet:  England’s Lincolnshire Wolds” published in the October 2011 issue of Saveur to have an impact on me.  I’m always looking for truly good recipes for traditional food, and even though I’m not British, I have solid connections.   In 1881 at the age of three, my great-grandfather sailed with his family from Newport, Wales to San Francisco hoping to find inexpensive land where his family might grow apples.  But that’s a story for another day.

This is more about the group of men mentioned in the article who have gotten together over years and years to enjoy a Sunday meal each week.  They know where the food has been grown, how it’s been grown, and have prepared it to showcase its quality.  Of course, it helps that they’re in the business.  I’d like to be invited to a table like that to hear the talk and understand more about what they know.  I’ll work on that from here in San Diego and maybe, just maybe, by the end of this year, I’ll know more about the more than 6,000 farms in our county and the farmers who tend them.

In the meantime, I thought I’d share these great Steak & Guinness pies with you.  My father-in-law loves Stilton and will jump at any excuse to tuck his napkin into his shirt and cozy up to a plate of hot food like this with a pint.  The recipe isn’t challenging, but does take some time, so plan ahead.  It’s worth it.

Steak & Guinness Pie Recipe

Filling Ingredients

¼ c. olive oil
1-1/4 lb. beef chuck, cut into 1″ cubes
3 cloves garlic, chopped
2 large yellow onions, sliced
2 ribs celery, thickly sliced
2 small carrots, thickly sliced
2 T fresh rosemary, chopped
1 12-oz. bottle Guinness
1/4  cup flour
2 c. vegetable stock
2 tsp. mustard powder
1 bay leaf
1 T olive oil
10 oz. mushrooms, quartered
6 oz. English Stilton, crumbled
1 medium zucchini, sliced quartered
1 egg, lightly beaten

For the crust, use the dough recipe from my Cornish Pasties .

Directions

1. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat.
2. Season beef with salt and pepper, then brown in batches, removing to a bowl as it finishes.
3. Add the garlic, onions, celery, carrots, and rosemary to the skillet and saute until softened and just beginning to brown.
4. Pour in the Guinness and cook until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes.
5. Sprinkle the flour into the mixture and cook, stirring until mixed.
6. Add the browned beef to mixture along with any juices that have accumulated in the bowl, the stock, mustard, and bay leaf.  Bring to a simmer over medium-low heat and cook partially covered,  about 1½ hours.
7. Make the dough for the tops while the beef is cooking.  Wrap in plastic and chill until ready to use.
8. After the beef mixture is done, remove it from the heat and set it aside.
9. In another skillet, heat the 1 T of olive oil in a skillet over medium high heat. Add the mushrooms and zucchini and cook, stirring, until browned, then add to the beef mixture.
10. Add the Stilton to the mixture and stir in.  Correct seasoning.
11. Heat oven to 375°.
12. Divide beef mixture among four 6″ oven-proof bowls or pie pans able to hold up to 12 oz.
13. Roll the dough into a 14″ square and cut out four 6″ circles.  Press each circle gently down over the filling.
14. Brush the dough with the egg and with a pair of scissors, cut an “x” into the top of each.
15. Bake on a baking sheet until browned and bubbling, about 40 minutes.

Notes:

• This recipe was adapted from this one which accompanied the article linked above.
• I’ve made it a couple of times and although I have switched things up a bit each time, it’s just plain delicious.  Is there such a thing as gourmet pub food?
• The filling is very forgiving, but taking time to brown the meat properly without crowding it in the pan, and then allowing it to braise with the veggie mixture is key.
• You can make the beef mixture minus the Stilton a day ahead, covered in the fridge.  Reheat, add the Stilton, then place the dough on and bake.
• If you try the original recipe in the link, the purchased puff pastry is decent, but I loved the dough crust better.  It’s so easy to make — nothing fancy at all — give it a go!
• You’ll probably have dough and filling left over — I did each time I made it — so if you need to, you can probably squeak out six smaller pies.
• We enjoyed these pies with Bubble and Squeak.  Think mashed potatoes with veg and you’ll have it right.
• Now, for pork pie.  I have lots and lots of pork in my freezer from a local farmer.  Lots.

You’ve promised your body that you will adopt a healthier lifestyle — something just shy of a “diet” because you know yourself too well.  If what you’ve taken on is reduced to that, it’s probably not going to last because you don’t believe in diets — and for good reason.  You’ve seen too many people begin with all the motivation they can muster, then when they realize the pounds aren’t falling off as quickly as they’d like, or that after what is considered a good effort, they’ve plateaued, motivation dwindles and the “diet” is quietly ignored.  I can’t risk that because my knees will never forgive me for having to carry around 50 pounds they hadn’t counted on at their age.

Poor knees.

Last September when I began to think about more obsessively about my weight and lack of routine exercise (no coincidence since I’d just turned 55) I began to find reasons to avoid the kitchen.  Meals became food I could easily pick up and eat with little or no thought.  I stopped looking at new recipes and rarely used one to try something new for dinner.  And baking?  I stopped that almost completely because it seemed pointless to bake something, taste it, then try to find a home for it outside of mine.  I’ve never been a big sweets eater, but I thoroughly enjoy spending a morning in the kitchen baking something — especially if it involves a little thought or teaches me something new.  I miss that and know baking needs to be a part of my life — as does dessert.

Dessert is a food group, isn’t it?

I’m kidding, of course, but the point is I want to bake and enjoy dessert occasionally so have to find a balance with desserts that showcase a simple fruit without a lot of added sugar or an excessive amount of fat, for example.

Something classic, satisfying.  Elegant, but not fussy.

With apples.

Glorious apples.

Just a small slice?

Yes, please.

 Apple Tart Alsatian Style Recipe

Crust Ingredients

1-2/3 c. all-purpose flour

8 T butter, cold unsalted

1 whole egg

1 T sugar

pinch of salt

1-1/2 T cold water

Filling Ingredients

1/3 c.  blanched almonds

1/4 c.  sugar

1 T  all-purpose flour

2 egg yolks

1/2 c. milk

1/2 tsp. vanilla

1 T Applejack or brandy (optional)

2 lbs. Honey crisp apples

apricot jam melted for glaze

Directions

1. Attach the metal blade and put all ingredients into the bowl of a food processor.
2. Pulse ingredients just until a ball begins to form on the blade.
3. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and begin to lightly knead, using a pulling away action with the heel of one hand lightly pulling the dough away from the other.  Continue a few times until the dough is smooth.
4. Dust the dough with flour and make a flattened disk, cover well and chill while you make the filling.
5. Preheat the oven to 500 degrees F and position the rack to the lowest position.
6. Place the almonds in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade and run until reduced to a fine powder.  Add the flour and yolks, then process until the mixture is paste-like.  Pour the milk in and process until mixed well.  Add the flavorings and mix well.  Set aside.
7. Lightly butter a 10-inch fluted tart pan with a removable bottom.
8. Remove the pastry from the fridge.  On a lightly floured surface, roll it into a round disk about 1/4″ in thickness and 14 inches in diameter.  Place it over the tart pan and remove the excess dough.  Gently press the dough against the sides of the pan and lightly prick the bottom with a fork.  Chill.
9. Peel the apples.  Position each apple with stems pointing upward.  Cut down through the apple on opposite sides, running parallel with the core.  Do the same for the remaining two sides.  Your apples will be quartered and cored.
10. Place each apple quarter cut side down and make thin slices across the width of each piece.  Slide an offset spatula beneath each quarter and gently press down with your hand to slightly “fan” the pieces, being careful to hold the general shape of the apple quarter.  Arrange in the chilled tart shell.  Once the sliced quarters have filled the ring and center of the tart shell, dice the remaining apples to fill in between the sliced quarters.
11. Pour the custard mixture evenly over the apples.
12. Place the tart on a baking pan and slide it into the oven.  Bake for 10 minutes, then reduce the heat to 425 degrees F and continue baking until the crust and apples are golden brown, about 15-20 minutes.
13. Remove from the oven and immediately remove from the tart pan.  After removing the ring, run an offset spatula beneath the tart to remove it from the metal bottom before allowing it to cool on a baking rack.
14. Heat the apricot jam and using a pastry brush, gently coat the top of the tart as it cools.
15. Once cool, remove to a serving platter.

Notes:

• Having always been a lover of French cooking, I recently purchased French Classics Made Easy by Richard Grausman, thinking it would be nice to learn some new tips for making some of my favorite recipes less fussy.
• I tried this tart recipe first because I’ve always wanted to learn how to structure one in this Alsatian style, which can be used for any fruit such as pears, apricots, or plums.  It’s pretty easy as long as you have an offset spatula.
• What isn’t necessarily easy about making this tart is getting it completely out of the tart pan when it’s hot from the oven.  Not only is the ring hot — if the bottom of the crust isn’t done, then getting it off the metal bottom to cool on a rack is a challenge.  Mine wasn’t completely done, so I put it back in the oven (it was turned off, but still very hot) without the baking pan beneath it for about 5 minutes.  I was able to remove the bottom then.  I guess my worries about a tart pan sitting directly over the heat on the bottom rack of a 500 degree F oven even for 10 minutes should have been ignored.  If I’d decided to put the tart in there without the baking pan from the start, I probably would have been able to remove the tart from the metal bottom easily.
• If Honeycrisp apples aren’t available, try any apple that holds up well in the oven — Pippin, Granny Smith, Jonathan, Jonagold, Braeburn, Winesap, Gala, and many more.  Check your regional resources for what’s most available and when.
• So what about the diet?  Well, traditionally, this type of tart is make with a very rich custard, but this one is pretty much made of fruit.  The crust is very thin — you know where I’m going with this.  Moderation! Enjoy a small piece and share the rest.  And, I made this tart early last October, so it wasn’t a current temptation, but biting into it is all about the apple.  Nothing overly sweet, and definitely without any kind of eggy custard flavor that I know many don’t always like.  It’s a pleasant recipe easily made with whatever fruit you have available.
• I need another cookbook like I need another leg, but I’m glad I decided to get this one.

Apple Tart Recipes from Around the Web:

Beyond the Plate — Apple Tarts (Tarte Aux Pommes)

My Baking Addiction — Custard Apple Tart Recipe

Gimme Some Oven — Easy Apple Tart

Sprinkle Bakes — Easiest Ever Rustic Apple Tart

I had an urge to make paella — but not the more traditional kind made with rice — and now that I think of it, if rice isn’t in it, then it’s probably not called paella.  No, I’d seen a recipe featured in Saveur some time ago which used thin, short pieces of pasta resembling spaghetti broken to bits, and it’s taken me until recently to give it a go.  I haven’t made paella for years thinking that having a best friend who’s a pro at whipping out her four foot diameter authentic paella pan whenever anyone mentions “party” has kept me lazy.  I don’t have a paella pan, but can manage a batch in a large skillet on my stove instead of a wood fueled fire on the patio which could incite neighbors to call 911 because they think the house is on fire.

The intrigue of the pasta or fideos based paella is the cooking process.  It’s very similar to a rice-based recipe, but pasta absorbs the liquid more quickly, and there’s less a worry about whether or not to stir the rice you’re not supposed to stir so it can develop a nice crust.  That isn’t the case with the pasta version, but it’s a challenge to keep from stirring it when you’ve got an impetuous stirrer in residence.

A basic paella requires a good pan which is not so thick, heat that will be distributed evenly across the pan, a short-grained rice that will absorb liquid without making the rice gummy, and liquid.  The finished product should be moist, but unlike risotto, contain separate pieces of tender rice.  Since I was foregoing rice for the recipe I chose, and because the original recipe was relatively easy, I decided to make my own fish stock — because.

Picture me at the Asian market in front of the fish case scanning several varieties of fish heads.  Large fish heads.  Inexpensive fish heads –  all under $4/lb.  A perky young man behind the counter asks whether he can help me and I tell him while pointing to a white fish, “I’m making fish stock,” to which he responds pointing to the salmon, “It better for you.”  I know this, but also know it’s very oily.  Should I mention that no matter how good salmon is for me, I am not one of its biggest fans?  He continues, “You want me clean it up for you?”  And I say that I’m happy to do it myself, but he grins and says, “I do it better for you.  You too busy.”

I am so not busy and loving every second of it.  Any busyness in my life now is self-generated.

But he certainly was correct about doing it better than I could, because after I removed the brown paper wrapping at home, I had to admire an extremely clean,  perfectly sectioned salmon head.  What had I been thinking before?  Had I insisted on taking care of it myself, I would have had to wrestle with it without the correct type of knife, then smell like the village fish monger for my trouble.  A not very busy fish monger, but still.

I was still concerned about making broth with salmon so had to do some research before choosing a recipe.  Evidently, it’s a matter of opinion.

Have you ever made any kind of fish stock before?

If you aren’t in the mood to tackle that, there are other options, but if you’re a paella lover, try this version of Fideua for a change.  Or, if you’ve always wondered about paella but haven’t tried it, start with this.

Fideua:  Spanish Pasta with Clams, Mussels, and Shrimp

Ingredients for my version

1 lb. small clams
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1  lbs. shrimp, whole with shells on
3 medium tomatoes, seeded and chopped
4 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced
1 lg. leek, split, rinsed, and white and light green portion sliced
salt and pepper
8 cups fish stock (see below)
1 large pinch saffron threads
1 tsp. hot paprika
1 lb. fideos or spaghetti, roughly broken into 2” pieces
1 lb. green lip mussels, scrubbed and debearded

Directions

1. Clean the mussels and clams by  rinsing under cold water to rinse of any sand, and remove the beards from the mussels if still attached.  Rinse the shrimp as well.
2. In a very large skillet, heat the oil over medium heat.  Add the leeks and cook until softened, about 5 minutes.  Add the garlic and tomatoes and allow to cook 1 more minute, stirring occasionally.  Season with salt and pepp
3. While the vegetables are simmering, heat the stock until hot, remove from heat and stir in the saffron and paprika.  Allow to steep until ready to use.
4. Sprinkle the fideos over the vegetable mixture and toss until moistened.
5. Add the shrimp, mussels, and clams to the mix and evenly distribute over the other ingredients.
6. Pour the hot broth over, making sure the seafood is as submerged as possible, and allow to cook undisturbed until the fideos are al dente, the shrimp brightly colored, and the clams and mussels opened.
7. Serve.

Ingredients for salmon stock

1 salmon head, quartered, cleaned
1 small onion, quartered
2 lg. cloves garlic smashed and peeled
1 carrot, cut into chunks
1 bay leaf
sprigs of fresh thyme
sprinkle of whole peppercorns
6 c. water
1 c. dry white wine

Directions can be found here.

Recipe Notes:

• Was this the best “paella” I’ve had?  No — but I did enjoy the variety and quantity of seafood in it.  We’re big fans of shell fish and enjoy the broth created whenever we cook it.
• Outside of chopping a couple of the ingredients, this was an extremely easy dish to prepare, and it’s a show stopper.
• If you’re not interested in making your own fish stock, you can use bottled clam juice, but it will be much more pricey than the cost of a fish head.  You can also use vegetable stock, or water.  If you use water, some white wine added to the vegetables will add to the flavor.
• We successfully avoided stirring the dish as it cooked, and it’s completely against the rules evidently, but I also covered the pan partially with a baking sheet for part of the cooking time.  I was worried about ending up with soggy pasta and unopened clams, although in other recipes I’ve tried, 6 minutes is usually enough to steam open the clams.
• So what are the rules?  This article published in Fine Cooking discusses authentic paella and it’s short and sweet.
• Here’s another version of Fideua, or Spanish Pasta by Mark Bittman which includes scallops but uses a surprisingly low amount of liquid.

More Paella Recipes:

• Cast Iron Paella at Macheesmo
• Paella La Rambla at Kitchen Butterfly
• Fisherman’s Paella at gastronomy
• Seafood Paella at Wrightfood
• Paella Amongst Other Things at La Tartine Gourmande
• And this version at Food & Wine which is on my list to try next — and I won’t wait as long as I did this time to make it.  It includes chicken, Spanish chorizo, and sole.

Late in April each year the Cinco de Mayo ruckus begins.  Ads on television air, local restaurants sport signs about Cinco de Mayo happy hours and don strings of red, green, and white flags, grocery stores advertise their specials full of bagged chips and cheese sauce in jars, and Twitter is abuzz with questions about what everyone will be making for their Cinco de Mayo parties.

“Interesting” but far from authentic variations on tacos and guacamole surface, there’s talk of new-fangled margaritas and cerveza, and for those interested in dessert, margarita cupcakes seem to be everywhere sporting that perfectly swirled, creamy top.  “You want it with or without salt?”

Or in the case of a favorite, fresh snack of mango, melon, papaya, and cucumber or jicama, “You want it with or without chili lime salt?” Yes, please.

When you live in San Diego, good Mexican food is easy to find any time of the year, and the ingredients to make your own at home are also plentiful, so why wait until Cinco de Mayo to enjoy it all?  Because it’s a reason to party.  Why not, I guess, right?  I never need a reason to eat good Mexican food or drink margaritas.  Ever.

Old Town San Diego, a California State Park, is a great place to enjoy Mexican food, margaritas, and if you haven’t had too many margaritas, early California history.  It’s especially nice to visit on a lazy, sunny Saturday afternoon after yet another busy season — and well before Cinco de Mayo when the crowds can be crazy.  If you’re someone who enjoys a crowd, then Old Town is the place for you. The question is whether most of the party-goers flock to the restaurants inside or outside the official boundaries of the state park which is considered the birthplace of California and in 1769, where Father Junipero Serra built the first of 21 missions in California.

We recently enjoyed the food and margaritas at Cafe Coyote & Cantina in Old Town just outside the state park while watching the tortilla makers.  Just thinking about those chunky orbs of hand-patted dough makes me want to settle down with a few hot from the griddle, but I only have corn tortillas right now.  They’re locally made, even if they’re not hot off the griddle.  I was too lazy to get out my tortilla press.

But before I share the recipe with you, do you actually know what Cinco de Mayo is really about?

Potato Tacos with Skillet Corn

corn tortillas

l lb. russet potatoes, about 2 medium, quartered and boiled

1 roasted jalapeno, stemmed and peeled

1 tsp. ground cumin

2 cloves garlic, chopped and divided

3 green onions, chopped

1 T olive oil

hand full cilantro leaves, lightly chopped, divided

3 cobs corn, kernels removed

1 c. green cabbage, slivered

1 tomato, sliced thinly

1/4 red onion, sliced thinly

sliced radishes

salsa verde, canned

1 lime, quartered

cotija cheese for sprinkling

Prepare the potatoes by quartering with the peelings on, covering them with water in a medium lidded sauce pan, bringing to a boil over medium high heat and cooking until tender when pierced with a fork, about 15 minutes.  Drain then remove the peelings by peeling with your fingers.  Discard the peelings.  Cut the potatoes into smaller cubes and set aside.

Prepare the jalapeno by grilling or broiling until the skin is blackened, then wrap in a clean dish towel while you prepare the corn.  After the corn is prepared, remove the stem, peel off the blackened skin, and chop the jalapeno seeds and all.  Set aside.

To prepare the corn, cut from the cob with a sharp knife and place in a dry, heated cast iron skillet over medium heat.  Allow to cook undisturbed until the skin on the kernels begins to brown, then stir to allow more browning.  Mix in 1 clove of chopped garlic, season with salt and pepper, and squeeze on some fresh lime juice from a quarter piece of lime.  Scrape into a bowl and set aside.

To finish the potatoes, add the olive oil to the same skillet the corn was cooked in.  Add the potatoes as well and cook over medium heat making sure the potatoes are in a single layer.  Season with salt, pepper, and the cumin, tossing lightly.  Add about half the chopped green onions to the mixture and toss lightly again.  Continue to cook until the potatoes begin to brown.  Add  a pinch or two of the chopped cilantro and squeeze over fresh lime juice from a quarter piece of lime.  Keep warm.

To build a taco, take a few unfried tortillas and wrap them in a clean dish cloth.  Place them in the microwave and heat on high for about 20-30 seconds.  Remove from the microwave.

Build taco by placing potato first, then the fixings of your choice after.

Notes:

• Saveur is featuring Tacos de Papa in the May, 2011 issue.  The recipe is made with a mashed potato mixture that is placed into the tortillas, then fried until crisp.  No, I haven’t tried that one.  I had a flash of mashed fried potatoes coming out of the tortillas as I was frying them and decided I’d wait on that one.  Maybe a bite-sized fried taco is in my future.
• If you’re used to meat in your tacos (or fish) this might take a bit of getting used to, but we liked it quite a bit.  A compromise would be to mash the potatoes after the browning before they go into the taco, but that doesn’t change the flavor, so I guess it’s a texture thing.
• Make sure everything is well-seasoned, as in salsa, salt, pepper, and whatever seasonings you enjoy.  I could have gone with even more jalapeno in these easily.
• I love Embassa salsa and although I often make my own salsa verde, I rarely do so for tacos — especially when the Embassa is so good.
• We enjoyed these for dinner, then I mixed it up a bit the next day by adding the radishes which were nice and spicy.
• The grilled corn is so wonderful — we really enjoy it.  It’s so easy to make and include in salads, alongside anything barbequed or grilled.
• If you can’t get cotija cheese, which is dry, salty, and easily crumbled but not something that melts, then feta would be a great substitution.
• I thought about mixing in some black beans, then didn’t, but think it would be a great addition.
• All things considered, a not so heavy, greasy, fat-laden meal.  Nice.
• If you’re more interested in a Mexican street-style taco, I’ve made those, too.

It’s a challenge to avoid the huge artichokes in the markets right now.  Maybe not at your market, but mine has them planted right in front of the entrance, so you can’t miss them.  It’s sort of an in-your-face-buy-me display that changes depending on any number of factors that I won’t go on about right now.  I  can usually maneuver past them because they’re so expensive, and as much as I love them, I balk at $4 for one — especially when I can pick up a can of hearts to do something with much more easily.  And in the long run, it’s more safe when you think about tackling those chokes, isn’t it?

Artichokes have a dual personality in my opinion.  There’s the real McCoy — the one you steam in a pot, then enjoy with myriad detours to a bowl of warm lemon butter (never mayonnaise if you’re in this house) that each piece is dipped into, then scraped along your lower teeth.  I grew up eating artichokes like this and it was quite an occasion when my mother brought one home.  Then there are the little hearts, all taken care of, canned, bottled or frozen and ready for any number of delicious dishes.  Thank goodness these choices are available, because waiting until artichoke season to enjoy them would be a problem for me at this point.  I love artichokes.

As I recall the image of our family of five seated around the kitchen table with one huge artichoke and a bowl of lemon butter, I have to wonder.  I always looked forward to it, but do the math.  Not many bites for each of us even when taking into consideration my sister probably didn’t like them.  This occasion for artichokes was never a precursor to dinner.  It was all about that artichoke — savored petal by delicious petal.  Bear in mind the petals were never trimmed, so dealing with the spikes on those tough outer petals involved a lot of caution after the first thumb prick, or a silent sucking it up for each subsequent prick.

It occurs to me we never ate the heart — or at least I don’t remember that we did.  Maybe my stepfather sneaked away with it after we’d lost interest because the lemon butter was gone.  I can see him now, perhaps standing at the kitchen counter enjoying the fact that the hard work had been done by us, and all he had to do was take a spoon, scrape away the fuzzy choke, then savor that amazing heart without having to share.  Denying us awareness of something wonderful.  Scarring us for life.

I could ask my mother about what happened to all those years of artichoke hearts, but she’d say she doesn’t remember.  There would be a few seconds of silence before she’d add she probably threw them away.  Can you imagine?  I can, because I threw them away, too, until I discovered marinated artichoke hearts sometime in my early 20s and put two and two together.  I had no clue they could be eaten.

If they weren’t such a challenge and expense, I’d enjoy them fresh more often in dishes like this lovely pilaf made with rice, orzo, pine nuts, and saffron.

Are you an artichoke lover?  If so, how do you prepare them?

Artichoke Pilaf

1/4 c. olive oil

1/2 c. whole wheat orzo

1 c. onion, shopped

1/4 c. pine nuts

2 c. Arborio

4 cooked artichoke hearts, chopped coarsely (see preparation below)

4 c. water

large pinch saffron

pinch of salt

freshly ground pepper

One way to prepare the artichokes…

Slice off the top inch or so of each artichoke and discard.  Remove the tough, darker exterior petals that surround the lower portion removing as many as needed to expose light green petals.  Trim the stem off completely, or if desired, leave it in tact, but trim the end and peel the length.  Using kitchen scissors, trim the thorns from the remaining petals.  Spread the center petals to expose the fuzzy choke.  Using a spoon with a semi-pointed shape, scrape the fuzzy choke completely from the center.  Rub all trimmed surfaces with lemon to prevent discoloration while you trim the remaining artichokes.

My way to prepare the artichokes…

Skip all the trimming, or at the minimum, slice off a bit of the top of the artichoke, and using kitchen scissors, remove the spiky ends of the petals.

Fill the bottom of a large pot or kettle with several cups of water.  Place the trimmed artichokes and two halves of a lemon into a steamer basket.  Put a lid on the pot and bring to a boil over high heat.  Once boiling, lower the heat to keep a simmer going, and cook until the stem is tender when pierced, about 45 minutes.

Pull off the petals to enjoy with the dip of your choice.

Once down to the crown and stem, trim of any excess that may be tough, and chop coarsely.  Set aside.

To prepare the pilaf…

Heat oil in a medium sauce pan.  Add the orzo, onion and pine nuts, stirring until until onions are softened a bit — 3 minutes.  Add the Arborio, stirring to coat with the oil.  When it turns translucent, add the chopped artichokes, water, and saffron.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and cover.  Allow to cook slowly without stirring until the liquid is evaporated, about 20 minutes.  Season with salt and pepper, then using a fork, fluff a bit.  Replace the cover and remove the pan from the heat, allowing it to sit for another 20 minutes before serving.

Removing the top third seems wasteful to me

Removing the choke before cooking is a bit challenging

I probably should have removed that tag...

The petals closest to the choke are so tender

The choke comes out easily with a spoon

All done!

Notes:

• Ocean Mist Farms has excellent information about artichokes in general.  There are some great recipes included as well.
• When I set out to cook the artichokes, I wasn’t sure about what I’d put in them, but wanted to experiment with basic preparation.  Along the way, I pulled out the French Laundry cookbook and entertained using their method of preparation which essentially puts the artichokes into a stew of sorts — artichokes in liquid with other vegetables and seasonings to provide flavor and prevent discoloring.  Although this initially appealed to me, the method of preparing the artichokes for that stew didn’t.  Removing all but 1/3 of the artichoke and nearly all of the petals, then digging out the raw choke seemed ridiculous.  Not only was I annoyed by the sheer waste of most of a perfectly good artichoke, digging out the choke while that vegetable was raw is quite the challenge.  I tried it with two of my four artichokes, sacrificing only 1/3 of the top and removing not so many of the petals before deciding to stop.
• At this point, a good compromise for me would be to place the artichokes whole in Chef Keller’s “stew,” enjoy the petals as we normally would, then prepare the hearts as I’ve described above.
• The pilaf recipe was adapted from one published in Susana Hoffman’s The Olive and the Caper:  Adventures in Greek Cooking (Workman, 2004), a wonderfully rich resource I recently added to my cookbook collection.  It is a pleasure to read for more than the rich assortment of recipes from Cyprus, Crete, The Cyclades and The Ionian Islands as well as mainland Greece.  It is packed with cultural tidbits, historical legends and fact, as well as geographical information about Greece.  Detailed information about how to fold and stuff filo includes a recipe to make your own.  Recipes for savory pies, delicious soups, a rich variety of pilafs, breads, sauces, and traditional puddings will have you thinking about more than tzatziki or an Americanized Greek salad.  It is truly an exceptional resource.

More Artichoke Recipes:

• Artichoke, Leek, and Potato Frittata — Goodlife Eats
• Artichoke, Kale & Ricotta Pie — the kitchn
• Penne with Artichokes — Cooking on the Side
• Artichoke Lasagna – Pastitsio — Kopiaste..to Greek Hospitality
• BBC Recipie:  Baked Artichokes Stuffed with roquefort and Walnuts — French Revolution Blog

I’ve been trying to guilt myself into finishing what needs to be finished lately and in the process have confirmed what I suspected:  I am a closet un-finisher — someone who can run a great race then come to a dead stop inches from the finish line.  Perhaps a quarter of a lap is more accurate, but you get the idea, I hope.  With respect to my on-going obsession with food, this translates to a few projects I’ve become involved in then haven’t completed.  In particular, tops on the list is the project Nicole of Pinch My Salt gave birth to, the Bread Baker’s Apprentice Challenge .  Then there was my own quest to work through Bittman’s “101 Simple Salads for the Season” to help keep me healthy in the time leading up to the holidays. That would be the holiday season of 2009. It seemed completely reasonable to make five salads in a seven day period at the time.  Most sadly, the Daring Bakers challenges have passed by, one after the other, and the months along with them.  The first two projects have been long neglected in my writing, but I think of them from time to time because of the photos I’ve taken of the recipes completed.  It’s torturous being reminded of one’s shortcomings in such vivid color and clarity. With respect to the Daring Baker challenges, I’ve got much more to make up than available time on my food calendar.

I’ve just sighed.  You know that feeling, right?  The one that lets you know you’re not all you’re chalked up to be.  Yes, that one.

It’s humbling.

Nevertheless, I’ve decided that some attempt to breathe life into what I once considered worthy goals is important.  I’ll blame this bit of retrospection on having to rebuild my photo libraries due to a new Mac and software.  Viewing all of those photos provided me the opportunity to revisit quite a few recipes I made and enjoyed but never wrote about.   It’s not quite like finding the perfect little black dress purchased on sale, then hung in the closet and forgotten until needed for a special occasion, but close.  It’s all about promise.

Bread is like that — about promise.  It generally promises that after all the steps — kneading, waiting, punching, shaping, and then waiting some more — you’ll actually get to taste it and share it with someone you know will like it. With respect to brioche, a bread containing a high percentage of butter, there is quite a bit of waiting.  Most brioche dough has to rest overnight in the refrigerator, so it does take some thinking ahead if you are like I am — someone who doesn’t make bread as often as she’d like.  I have made brioche before with good results, thanks to Sherry Yard’s Lean Brioche recipe.  I’ve also made Reinhart’s Poor Man’s Brioche, but I’ll save that one for another time because his recipe for Casatiello is more interesting.

Casatiello is a savory Easter celebration bread from the Campania region of Italy.  It is traditionally made with lard and baked in paper molds. The incorporation of salami and cheese are related to ancient associations with rites of spring and fertility.  Today, lard is often omitted or in some cases, shortening used in its place.  Additionally, many bakers use different types of cheese and meat.

I’ve added fresh sage to my adaptation of Reinhart’s recipe.

Casatiello:  Italian Brioche

For the sponge…

1/2 c. unbleached bread flour

1 T + 1/3 tsp. active dry yeast

1 cup buttermilk (from Saco cultured buttermilk dry blend)

For the dough…

3-1/2 c. unbleached all purpose flour

1 tsp. kosher salt

1 T sugar

2 lg. eggs

sponge

3/4 c. unsalted butter, room temp

4 oz. dry salami, thinly sliced and chopped

3/4 c. sharp provolone, grated

1 T fresh sage, finely chopped

Make the sponge first by mixing the flour and yeast in a small bowl and stirring in the buttermilk mixture until smooth.  Cover with plastic and let sit at room temp to bubble up for about 1 hour.

After the sponge has nicely bubbled and collapses when you tap the bowl, make the dough.  In the bowl of a standing mixer, mix the flour, salt and sugar a bit before adding the eggs and sponge.  Mix slowly until it comes together in a rough ball of dough.  Make sure all the flour is incorporated, then continue to mix on medium for 1 minute before letting it rest for 10 minutes.

Cut the butter into 4 pieces and with the motor running, mix it at medium speed into the dough making sure each piece of butter is completely incorporated before adding the next.  Take time to scrape down the sides when necessary.  Once the butter is incorporated, continue to mix the dough for about 4 minutes, then switch to the dough hook for an additional 6-8 minutes or until the dough leaves the side of the bowl and forms a ball.  It will be smooth and silky.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and  carefully knead in the salami, cheese, and sage making sure all are as evenly distributed as possible.  If the dough is sticky, dust it very lightly with flour.  Clean out the mixing bowl, lightly oil it and put the dough ball inside.  Roll it about to make sure it’s covered with oil, then cover the bowl with plastic and place a towel over it.

Let the dough rise for 1-1/2 hours or until the dough is 1-1/2 times its original size.  While it’s rising, prepare two brown lunch sacks by spraying  the insides thoroughly with oil.  Fold down the tops a couple of times, about and inch or so for each fold.  Place them in small cake pans as close in size to the bags as possible.  Place the pans on a baking sheet.

At this point, divide the dough into 2 equal pieces.  Dust the pieces lightly with flour and shape into boules.  Place each piece of dough into a brown sack and adjust the height if necessary to be about 2-inches above the top of the dough.  Lightly spray the dough with oil, then cover with plastic wrap.  Proof for 1 to 1-1/2 hours or until the dough just reaches the top of the sack.

Make sure to preheat the oven to 350 degrees F while the dough is proofing so it’s ready when the dough is.

Bake the dough for 20 minutes, then turn the baking sheet 180 degrees and reduce the oven temperature to 325 degrees F.  Bake for 4o more minutes or until the internal temperature is 185 to 190 degrees F and the bread is a rich golden brown.

Remove from the pans to cool on baking racks, and cut small slits in the bags to allow steam to escape.

A coarse dough forms first

Butter is incorporated slowly

A silky dough surfaces

Salami, provolone and sage are kneaded in

Place in an oiled bowl

Allow to rise 1-1/2 times original size

Proof in oiled brown lunch sacks

Bake in metal pans

The tops will be a rich golden brown

Remove the bags or cut slits to cool

Allow to cool an hour before slicing