Erica De Mane

Still Life with Artichokes, by Toni Silber-Delerive.

Recipe below: Scialatielli with Artichokes, Lemon, Tarragon, and Parsley

At a time like this, one of the best things to do is cook. Being semi-housebound in fear of a raging virus is an excellent opportunity to expand your culinary horizons by tackling something that has always made you nervous, like skinning live eels or boiling up a whole beef tongue—or dealing with a pile of thorn-covered artichokes.

One of the problems most people have with artichokes is confronting the waste. If you want to prep our big globe type to eat, not with drawn butter but in a pasta dish, you have to throw out almost everything except the most tender leaves and a snip of the stem. I have a hard time coping with that myself. And all the work it takes to get to that tender little edible pile can be discouraging. The solution is baby artichokes. I’m now finding them in my markets again. What a gift. So easy to clean, and quick, too. No chokes. Excellent flavor. The little ones are from the same plant as our globes. They’re just miniatures that pop out lower down on the stalk. A bonus. For me, unless I’m making my grandmother’s humongous sausage-stuffed artichokes (a meal in itself, although it never was for her), I go for the babies.

This time, for pasta for four, I used about two dozen. I sat in front of the TV watching the latest coronavirus news and had the whole batch cleaned in about 15 minutes. I set up my usual (for artichokes) big bowl of lemony water (even though these are small, they still oxidize quickly when cut). With each artichoke I pulled off two or three layers of tough leaves, trimmed the top down about ½ inch, scraped the stem a bit, trimming it if the end looked tough, and them cut it in half or quarters lengthwise, depending on its size (I went for the really small ones). That’s it. Now they were ready to braise or to roast. I love these babies with pasta. Here I made a gentle springtime sauce using soft herbs, wine, and Parmigiano.

Don’t ignore spring artichokes. Just find yourself the runts. They provide a delicious shortcut.

And just a word about the pasta I used here. Scialatielli was originally a fresh pasta from along the Amalfi coast, sometimes with milk in its dough. It’s often served with seafood sauces. To me it’s like a much thicker, shorter, chewier linguini. I’ve never made it fresh, but the dried Setaro brand I used was delicious. You can substitute pasta alla chitarra or fettuccine, but keep an eye out for the real thing.

Scialatielli with Artichokes, Lemon, Tarragon, and Parsley

(Serves 4)

About 2 dozen baby artichokes
2 large lemons
Sea salt
Extra-virgin olive oil
2 shallots, cut into small dice
Black pepper
A few grinds of fresh nutmeg (about ½ teaspoon)
A big splash of dry white wine
¾ cup light chicken broth or vegetable broth (or just use water)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
A handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves, very lightly chopped
About 6 or 7 large tarragon sprigs, the leaves chopped
1 pound scialatielli or pasta alla chitarra or fettuccine or bucatini
A chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese

Halve one of the lemons, and squeeze its juice into a big bowl of cold water.

Sharpen your knife (dealing with any type of artichoke is easier with a good sharp blade, as the vegetable can be slippery). Grab an artichoke, and pull off and discard its tough outer leaves until you get to the tender lighter green ones. Slice off the top about ½ inch from the top, and discard that. If the stem looks tough, give it a light peel, and trim the bottom if you think it will be chewy (often it’s tender all the way down). Now halve or quarter the thing lengthwise, and drop the pieces in the water. Do the same with all the rest.

Set up a  pot of pasta cooking water, add a good amount of salt, and bring it to a boil.

In the meantime, get out a big skillet, and set in over medium heat. Add about 2 tablespoons of olive oil, and let it heat through. Drain the artichokes well, and add them to the skillet. Scatter the shallots on top, seasoning everything with salt, some black pepper, and the nutmeg. Sauté until the vegetables have softened a bit, about 3 or 4 minutes. Grate the zest of the remaining lemon over the top, and squeeze on about a tablespoon of its juice. Add the white wine, and let it bubble for a few seconds. Now add the broth or a little water, partially cover the skillet, and simmer until the artichokes are just tender, about another 6 minutes. Turn off the heat, and let the sauce rest.

Drop the pasta into the water, and cook it until it’s al dente. When it’s done, drain it, and pour it into a big serving bowl. Add the butter and a drizzle of fresh olive oil, and give it a toss. Add the artichoke sauce, the parsley, the tarragon, and a few big gratings of the Parmigiano.  Season with a little more salt and black pepper, and toss. Serve hot, bringing the chunk of Parmigiano to the table for grating.