Carciofini, and other stories

Life is busy at the moment.  The Teaching Kitchen is alive with chatter, chopping, questions, learning and eating. Heirlooms & Wooden Spoons is no longer just a sporadic blog, but a living, breathing cooking school in the heart of Seattle.

The last few months have included cheese making with kids, knife skills for the nervous, chocolate making, recreating favourite recipes from Yotam Ottolenghi’s Plenty, and dinners.  Lots and lots of dinners. Demonstrating the art of Tagine making in the Atrium Kitchen in Pike Place Market last week was a highlight. The electricity created by the hustle and bustle of the Market is infectious.  Showcasing produce from my favourite suppliers, my favourite season, in my favourite Seattle spot, surrounded by old friends and new was magic.  Just magic.  Having my son help hand around Harissa filled me with pride.  It is official – H&WS is a family business.

But this is about Carciofi.  Or carciofini to be precise.

My husband despairs of me at times, and when I come home with a large grin and an armful of tiny artichokes his eyes roll into the back of his head just a little more than usual.  For me, these gorgeous little gems signify that summer really is coming.  In fact, that somewhere (namely Italy) it has already warmed up enough to produce these spiky little edible flowers. My husband is known for many things. Patience is not one of them.

It is true that this is not a dish you can whip up for a quick and easy supper, in fact, it will take you a lot longer to make than it will to eat. And so, I savour every moment of preparation, knowing that every second spent handling these precious purple flowers will be worth it the moment I pop it into my mouth.

Years ago, working at La Fromagerie, I would spend literally hours happily turning, trimming and packing them, as the hustle and steam of the kitchen simmered around me.  Once prepped and on the stove, the terror of over cooking, crisping, undercooking or, God help me – burning them – was palpable.  Not just the cost of the raw ingredients (a crate or two of baby carciofi, a couple of litres of Olive Oil) but also the time it had taken were at stake. I still feel the fear in the pit of my stomach.  A fear only quenched by filling it with the end result. Artichoke confit is something I look forward to making every year. Go on. I dare you.

Not really a Recipe…

Take as many artichokes as you can carry/afford. carefully cut off a little of the bottom and peel the excess tougher outer petals off.  Trim the tip of the petals and place in a heavy bottomed pot or oven proof dish bottom up.  Pack them in tightly but don’t totally crush them.  Pack half of a lemon, whole garlic cloves, a few bay leaves, a couple of chillies and plenty of fresh mint in and around them.  Scatter a few peppercorns and sea salt and then pour over good olive oil until the are virtually submerged.  Cook stove top very gently until soft, or in the oven, not too hot, again until just soft.  Squeeze the cooked lemon and soft garlic over the artichokes, add more fresh torn mint, and salt to taste. Eat straight out of the pot once cooled down a little with a cold glass of dry white.  Ideally with the sun on your face.

I couldn’t help it . . .

Happy Valentine’s Day All!

Cheesy, it may be, (on oh so many levels) but also adorable, and a chance to share a recipe I have been asked for quite a few times now.  Hopeless romantic that I am, and never one to pass up on the excuse of a terrible pun, I just couldn’t resist the purchase of this tiny heart shaped Neufchatel in our local Trader Joe’s.  Let no one call me a food snob; I believe that food, first and foremost, should be enjoyed – and I defy anyone not to smile, and even melt a little, at the sight of a heart shaped cheese.  So go and let your valentine heart run wild and grab one before they all go!  If you are lucky enough to live in london, get yourself to La Fromagerie or Neals Yard where I happen to know they have an equally romantic funny bone. They will undoubtedly have a suitably (if not slightly more subtly) shaped cheese to fit the bill. Perhaps a nettle wrapped Yarg, or even a White Lake Goats’ cheese from water logged Shepton Mallet.  If not, I know they will point you in the right direction!

And, never one to ‘short change’ you, given that it barely counts as a recipe, I have included a suitably seasonal drink recipe too!

Lemon and Herb Stuffed Brie . . . or in this case, Neufchatel

(and by the way, it is not really a recipe)

Actually many Bries, Camemberts and even this heart shaped Neufchatel work well.

You will need: Crème fraiche, salt and pepper, a good ripe Brie, lemon zest, a little lemon juice, Italian or flat leaf parsley, finely sliced

Method

Split the brie in half – a cheese wire is perfect for this but otherwise dental floss works well – just make sure it is not minted! Chop the parsley and set to one side.  Using a fork, gently whip the crème fraiche with a little lemon juice, zest, salt and pepper to a stiff consistency, adjusting seasoning along the way – you can use up to about a ¼ cup of juice, and zest of half a lemon to a cup of crème fraiche without it splitting.    Put parsley on bottom half of cheese and then spoon on the Crème fraiche mixture and place the top half back on.  Rub a little zest into the bloomy rind on top and perhaps add a whole parsley leaf or two as a hint to the contents.  Put in the fridge for at least three hours for the flavours to meld, but remove for half an hour or so before you serve.  It goes well with a cold glass of white wine and hot sourdough toast – we had it with a particularly lovely Riesling last night.

Blood Orange and Juniper Gin Fizz

Makes two tall or four short cocktails

Again, this hardly counts as a recipe, but combines three ingredients that seem to so obviously belong together at this time of year!  I also get to showcase a favourite local ingredient – Seattle’s own Dry Soda.

Three Ingredients

Juice of about five Blood Oranges (about half a pint)

Two shots of gin – double if you are that way inclined!

A bottle of DRY Soda Company Juniper Berry Soda

Using a peeler, peel a few slivers of the particularly attractive parts of the orange peel, ensuring there is no pith attached.  Juice the oranges.  I like the texture of the orange pulp with the bubbles, but if you would prefer your drink a little less rustic; strain the juice. Muddle the juice and gin and pour equally amongst the glasses, topping up with the soda. Throw in a bit of peel at a jaunty angle and drink deeply.  It is good.