About two weeks ago, small – but not quite small enough to be called baby - purple artichokes began appearing at the Atlántida and Parque del Plata ferias. They are called “alcaucil”. Back in Virginia, dainty purple artichokes would be found in season at Whole Foods, for a pretty penny. I would avoid these on principal because they would most likely have been shipped from some place far away, would cost a small fortune and would never live up to expectations anyway. However, here, they are about six pesos each and were probably plucked just a day or two before showing up in the feria.
If, like many people, you are intimidated by the pokey artichokey, don’t worry and just remember that they are a great excuse to eat butter. For me they are special because when I was a kid, my mom would prepare them simply steamed and served with melted butter as a treat. Okay, any kid for whom an artichoke is a treat must be a little weird. I digress.
Back to the artichokes: Here is how I prepared them tonight:
Use this recipe if you have small artichokes. You will need:
6 small purple artichokes
1 stalk of purple basil
3 or 4 cloves of garlic
Olive oil
Butter (real butter, NOT margarine)
White wine
Lemon
First, cut off most of the stem, leaving just a stump behind. Then cut off approximately the top quarter of the artichoke. Use your judgment on this – don’t take off too much, but remove the part that you know you surely wouldn’t want to eat – the spiky top part. Then, with scissors or kitchen shears, clip off the thorny top of each remaining petal. Your artichoke will resemble a rose at this point. Then slice them in half lengthwise so you have a pretty cross-section of the artichoke.
Now, finely mince three or four cloves of garlic and fresh herbs of your choice. I chose purple basil, also fresh from the feria. Heat up some olive oil and butter in a pan large enough to hold all of your artichoke halves in a single layer. Sauté the garlic and herbs just until fragrant, then place the artichokes in, cut side down. Add a generous amount of white wine (about and 1/8 inch deep in the pan), and a small squeeze of lemon. Cover, but watch so that your pan does not dry out, or you will have a burnt mess. I let this get to the point where the liquid was nearly gone and the butter and garlic were nicely browned. This gives it a wonderful nutty flavor. At this point, add more wine (about as much as before) to deglaze the pan. Give the pan a little shake to loosen up any brown bits on the bottom. Add a cup or so of water and cover the pan, and check occasionally to make sure you have enough liquid. Add wine and or water as necessary. Your goal is to have almost no liquid left after about 20 minutes, when the artichokes will be nice and tender and ready to eat. At this point, flip them over to expose the cut sides and dab each half with a bit of butter and a sprinkle of salt (preferably sea salt, but I must admit, my good sea salt came from the U.S.) When they are cool enough to eat, you’re ready to go.
What, you are new to artichokes and don’t know how to eat them? Easy and fun. Peel off a petal. Fleshy side down, scrape off the “meat” with your teeth. Eat as you go – peel, scrape, peel another one. As you work your way to the inner petals, they will become more and more tender and you can eat them whole. It’s okay to lick your fingers once in a while too. These little artichokes don’t have any nasty chokey spiky things inside, so you can eat the whole thing. Don’t stop when you are out of leaves and just have a little stump remaining. This is the heart, the very best part of the artichoke.
Buen provecho.
Oh, and my apologies, but we were so excited about these, we gobbled them up before I thought to take a picture. Here they are, raw:
While you consider the artichoke to be an excuse to eat butter (as does my wife), I consider it another vehicle for mayonnaise. While the fancy-smancy people dip in butter, I scoop as much mayonnaise on each leaf as I can possibly transport to my mouth. We had some the other night, and were unaware that the the part under the leaves weren't spiky (like their US counterparts), so I scooped off that part before eating the heart- a sad loss, but one that I will not repeat, thanks to your information.
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