Stuffed Artichokes

Sigh. I'm just learning the ins and outs of this blogging thing. My first, and I think hardest, lesson repeats itself. I do something fun, or make a delicious treat. What Fun! I can post this! Er, I could if I took a picture. Dang. Photography isn't something that comes to me naturally or easily. I would rather make something and then just tell the story. As a result, no pictures today. Rats!

All the aforementioned is besides the point, really. The purpose today is to talk about artichokes. Yep, that fancy early spring vegetable that seasonally-obsessed foodies sing raptures about (after they are done with ramps, rhubarb and pea shoots). I admit, I agree that artichokes should be a spring food. But my first reason is that where I live, spring is the only time they aren't ridiculously expensive. Spring is also the only time of year that the vegetable doesn't look like it got run over by a bus, bruised and brown and sad. I happened to find a couple 'chokes in my favorite rob-you-blind natural foods store and brought them home. And proceeded to ignore them for longer than was prudent, really. Here's why. Artichokes can be an ordeal to cook if you are dragging your sore butt home after spin class. Even if you don't trim them, the hour cooking time alone is a hindrance to resolving my low blood sugar. Thankfully, Sunday solved all my time problems and I managed to adapt a Joy of Cooking recipe to fit my needs.
My advice? Find an artichoke or two, find some time and revel in a little time spent on such a delicious result.

Stuffed Artichokes with Arugula and Sharp Provolone

Makes 2

Ingredients:

For the artichokes:

2 large artichokes

1/2 lemon

water

1 glug olive oil (about a tablespoon)

Stuffing:

1/2 cup bread crumbs

3 TB olive oil

1 clove gearlic, minced fine

1 cup arugula, finely chopped

1/4 cup shredded sharp provolone (or another strong cheese, like Parmesan or a good sharp jack, even)

Preheat oven to 375.

In a small bowl, mix together all the stuffing ingredients until combined.

Using your hands, peel off 5-6 layers of artichoke leaves. You want to take a good many of the toughest leaves off. With a sharp knife and some care, slice off the top third of the artichoke and then the stem off the bottom. Turn over the artichoke and remove the prickly inner leaves until you see little hairs, or the choke. (My fingers worked best for this.) Scrape off all the choke, using some force, until you see the pale green or yellowish heart. Rinse out the inside to get rid of the last bits. Squeeze a little of the lemon on top of the cut parts to avoid too much discoloration. You'll see some, don't worry, but this step prevents a lot of it. Repeat the above steps for the other artichoke.

In shallow baking dish, nestle your two artichokes next to each other. Mine was a 9" round covered casserole. You could also use a cake pan of the same size or really any baking dish that fits your artichokes and has room for water on the bottom.

Use a teaspoon to fill each artichokes center, half in each. Shred a little extra cheese on top if you are feeling a little decadent.

Pour about a half inch to an inch of water in your dish, avoiding wetting your artichokes unnecessarily. Follow with a glug of olive oil. Put the lid on, if you have one, or cover tightly in aluminum foil.

Bake for at least 45 minutes or until a leaf very easily comes off the head. While this is delicious warm, I have also enjoyed it at room temperature equally well.

Next time, pictures. I hope.

Try This

Step One: Find your favorite brownie mix or brownie recipe.
Step Two: Make the batter. Lick your finger unless raw egg worries you. Maybe I should worry more, but I always have a little taste.
Step Three: Pour batter into your pan.
Step Four: Get out a big spoon, like a soup spoon. Using that, scoop dabs of peanut butter straight from the jar on top of the batter. Repeat until you have equally blessed all parts of the batter. With a butter knife, swirl it around a little bit (not too much) to distribute.
Step Five: Grab some pretzels. Crush 'em up a little bit. You still want bigger pieces, though.
Step Six: Bake according to your recipe.

Note: Take to heart the life experience of a friend who just followed the above steps. Do not eat brownies for dinner and breakfast right before a glucose test at the Doctor. This may or may not cause some wacky readings. I maintain this is not my fault but was told I may or may not be getting a phone call.

Extreme Couponing

I love TLC. Sometimes. Other times I mourn the loss of a channel that in the blink of a "Jon and Kate" went from Learning to Ohmigoodness-look-at-those-people. No matter, though. All of my high mindedness is forgotten when I switch on my favorites like: 19 (or howevermany) Kids and Counting or Little People, Big World or even Hoarders. Needless to say, once I saw the previews, Extreme Couponing was on my list of show to watch.
Even though the sound bites were interesting, I was more than a little skeptical. How fun could couponing really be? Would I be more than a little outraged by the crazy consumerism of it all?
Turns out I was a little wrong and a little right. But for those playing the home game, here's a little background.
The show follows the selected subjects from their homes to the grocery store on epic trips to save money. Holy cannoli, do they save. Granted, they have to spend the equivalent hours of a full time job, buy multiples of products based on some crazy coupon calculus, and generally leave all pride at the door, but these folks are paying ten bucks for hundreds or even a thousand dollars of groceries. In-fricking-sane.
Unfortunately, the majority of show was not exactly riveting enough to prevent me from texting, updating Facebook and attempting another three letter word in my Words with Friends app. I was not transfixed by the scenes of them cutting their coupons...literally speaking. But the money shot was mind boggling when the couponers bought an incredible amount of goods for pennies on the dollar. To see the savings was amazing and I felt a little thrill with them after the total was announced. But then you get the wide angle. Fifty-four containers of yogurt, fifty bottles of laundry detergent, one hundred and fifteen bottles of nighttime pain medicine. Amounts that are nearly impossible for anyone but an army to consume. Or maybe the Duggars. Either or. To be fair, some donated a portion their stock. But the gleam in each of their eyes about their "stockpiles" was unnerving. While I admired their very specialized mathematical skills, I'm not sure I can get behind such excessive consumption myself. I'm not sure that anyone, even a family of six, needs more than twelve bottles of hot sauce. I can't quite get behind that kind of consumerism On the other hand, in the shows I watched, most of the subjects were not financially well off and were on tight budgets. In order to put food on the table, they needed to save money. Is this just another method of being self sufficient? Or is there a false economy in there somewhere? Perhaps it is easy to sit in a place of privilege since I don't have to make those kinds of choices anymore.
I'm not sure I'll watch the show again. But it was, intentionally or not, food for thought.

Cla-foo-tee

Part of my weekend fun is making a breakfast that is a little less healthy and takes a little more time. Pancakes, waffles, a little bacon, you get the drift. I've been in a smidge of a rut- pancakes, waffles, toast with jam, repeat- and so I broke out a cookbook to get inspired.

Baking Unplugged, by Nicole Rees is written in the spirit of baking done without a standmixer or crazy equipment. Flour, eggs, (a lot) of butter, some sugar and call it a day. All of her recipes have been delicious and this clafouti is no exception. Perhaps part of the reason is my belief that there is nothing more delicious than custard. Ok, maybe chocolate ganache. Or a just-picked strawberry, warm from the sun. Or maybe that first sip of coffee in the morning when the milk and sugar are just right. Alright, I take it back. But custard is pretty darn good. Even better when you can fill it with fruit, a little brandy and give it a French name.

I had cranberries in the freezer, brandy and plenty of eggs. Perfect situation for this breakfast below.

This is not the type of breakfast one eats if you would like to keep your cholesterol down. Or if you are an Olympic gymnast in training. (Actually, I have no idea what they eat. I take it back.) However, if you are a person who thinks custard is fantastic and plan on watching HGTV while sipping some coffee, clafouti is for you.

I used the recipe from Baking Unplugged, but you can find recipes all over the web. I've found The Joy of Baking to have reliable recipes, and this seasonal one with rhubarb looks fantastic. Cherry is the traditional fruit, by the by.

Note: Do you have a cast iron skillet? WHY EVER NOT?? You can make clafoutis all you want, and dutch babys/german pancakes, and cornbread and they are ten dollars (give or take) at the hardware store!

Double Note: I don't get anything for book reviews or the like. I just really think her book is great.

Maybe more than once a month...

Well, now. I thought I'd definitely be posting here more than once a month or so. But slow and steady wins the race (is this a competition?) and I'm aiming for the long haul here.
But in this last month I've done a few things: made cheese, baked a couple bundt cakes, and thanks to some good friends started a new collection of (more) dishware. Generally having fun.The cheese and dishware will have to wait for another post. First, the bundt cake.
There she is, in all her glory.

(must remember to use cake plate if blogging)

Now I have to admit. While some bundts can be dressed up and look pretty fabulous, most are of a more humble nature. This one was a banana cake from this book. Even though it was a tidge overbaked, that sucker stayed moist for days. Considering the glacial pace we eat baked goods, that's a very good thing.

Maybe you're not a baking nerd like me and would also be curious to know that bundts are one of those modern desserts created to meet the need of a product (see Jell-o salads, amongst others). Nordicware started making "ethnic" bakeware like ebelskiver and Kugelhupf pans but hit gold with the Bundt pan in 1950. The full history of the company can be found here in handy timeline, and here for the history of the cake. I have yet to make the eponymous Tunnel of Fudge cake but am looking for the opportunity. In any case, I always like breaking out this particular pan. Maybe the ridges make it seem more fancy? Or the shape's risk for sticking adds a hint of danger? I don't know.

(successful unmolding!)

But no matter what the reason, they are darn tasty cakes.

Opening Act

(First of all, I promise not to continue the variety show metaphor ad naseum. No one needs to see post 12,354 as Act 242: Bring on the Elephants! or some nonsense. Er. Well, then. Moving on.)

So I've been reading this book, Radical Homemakers. The author details an in-depth history of domesticity along with interviews of current homemakers. She chooses some fascinating people from all walks of life who have opted out of consumerism and into a life based on family, DIY and the home. A challenging read and recommended for anyone with interest on the topic.
Even though I haven't finished, the book has got me thinking about who I am, about what I do. Do fall under the label of "radical homemaker"? First of all, am I radical? Hardly. While my politics lean toward the bleeding heart end of liberal, I can hardly be counted on for the next G20 protest. Am I a homemaker? Not in the 1950's stereotype of stay- at- home wife and mother, waiting for her next Valium. Not in the current sense of the term either, working in the home as my primary job. If I am neither, what am I? Is my fondness for the domestic arts just a hobby or a quirk?
Thankfully homemaker isn't a term easily pigeonholed. I'm starting to think homemaking is a philosophy not a role. The book speaks to those who would embrace a different way of looking at life that includes creation from the home instead of external consumption. That's where I think I am. Now, I haven't managed to weave my own undies out of homegrown cotton. Or convince my husband to live off the grid. But, I do like to can peaches I pick myself and have been known to make my own mozzarella. If I ever get this skirt pattern to fit, I may even be the type to make my own clothes. Eventually, I would love to make or grow more food than we buy.
Hm. Maybe I'm more radical that I thought.