Wintry ruminations whilst the snow-storm affectionately known as ‘Echo’ blasts the hills, coats the prairie, and blankets the town. Affection steadied for powerful storm systems (so long as all are safe) – and the ability to briefly disconnect from life and reconnect with those external forces. It’s in these unexpected moments that there exists real seduction – a break from the plans, a path not ordinarily pursued, and a few extra stolen rudimentary breaths.
It’s been a wild-weathered kind of day (a sad day of demise in the eyes of fair-weathered people). Cold air coupled with 100 percent humidity. A freezing fog that ignited all life outdoors in a sharp and rigid frost – the most scenic. A weighted pregnancy to the skies and clouds all morning, a look lending itself to impending stormy circumstance. And finally, after a continuous slickening, the precipitation. A precipitation that continues as word merges with screen. A desertion from normalcies, and this I like.
I am writing lengthy love letters to all forms of winter produce. There has been a massive rotation of roasting generating a steady heat in the kitchen these past months. It is a cosmically easy and delicious preparation for many of the root vegetables available currently. Golden edges and sweet caramelizing are too divine to pass. The last two of our brussels sprouts came down before the storm, and eagerly I am devising appropriate and beautiful fates.
A recent affection and inspiration has landed in the form of cardoon. It’s unfamiliarity in general cooking may possibly stem from its harrowing preparation – but it is assuredly nothing too intense for the passionate plant eater to assume. The close relative of the artichoke is formed like a bunch of celery and is hellishly spiny (cursing ensues automatically). The best method to attacking this creature’s defense system is a vegetable peeler or sharp knife. As soon as she’s disarmed she’s quite easy to work with. Most recipes call for further preparation by way of par-boiling (my personal suggestion). And at the end there is a nirvana to all of this madness. An intense and delicious artichoke flavor sure to cure any blues.
- 1 bunch of cardoons, (equivalent to 1 lb chopped)
- sea salt
- juice of 1 lemon
- 1 / 8 cup olive oil
- juice of 1 lemon
- 1 tsp prepared horseradish
- 2 cups (1 medium) head of curly endive, chopped
- 2 garlic cloves
- 1 / 3 cup hazelnuts
- 1 / 2 cup olive oil
- 2 tbl white balsamic
- 1 lb chiocciole pasta
- sun dried tomatoes (if in oil, drain), chopped
- fill a large pot with water, a generous sprinkling of salt, and the juice of 1 lemon. prepare cardoons by carefully removing spines located on both sides of each rib. cut ends, and slice into 1 inch pieces. discard fronds. quickly remove pieces into the pot of water to keep them from browning by air. bring cardoons to a boil and simmer for 20 minutes, or until tender, and drain.
- in a medium bowl combine cardoons, olive oil, lemon juice, and horseradish. toss to combine and marinate in refrigerator 1 hour, up to overnight.
- to prepare pesto combine endive, garlic, hazelnut, olive oil, and balsamic in the base of a food processor and blend until smooth.
- prepare pasta according to instructions. 1 lb of pasta will feed 4-8 people depending on serving arrangements.
- to serve: combine pesto with pasta, add marinated cardoon and sun dried tomatoes and toss.
As always, your approach to capturing nature – both in your words and in your foods – is mesmerizing. I can’t tear myself away from your storm anymore than I can stop imagining how this cardoon would taste against the starchy pasta, its wildness tamed by a laborious and loving cooking process. But as I am definitely a wild-weathered person, I do hope it manages to retain some of its uniqueness even after the long cooking! Beautiful work, Danielle.
Ksenia – Thank you so much for the endearing words. I feel most like myself when I am surrounded by the inherent wildness of nature – it’s a constant inspiration for me, and part of growing the garden is the satisfaction of working in unity with. Thank you for visiting, and I hope your holiday has been nice thus far. ♥
what a beautiful vegetable! I have never actually heard of it before but now I am inspired to try it! your winter sounds so cozy, as do your vegetable love letters hehe 🙂 I can’t wait for some snow over here!
Maya – once you meet cardoons they are effortlessly a curious creature! It’s always amazing what a little patience and love can yield in the kitchen. Hope you are well, and wishing you snow soon! ♥
I LOVE being introduced to something completely new, I’ve never heard of cardoon and now I am on a mission to find some!
Sue, I’m really happy I was able to introduce you! I, too, just adore finding out about something new – the excitement factor is outrageous with me. Do let me know if you come across them, I’d love to know what you do/think! Happy holiday to you! ♥
I’ve never heard of cardoon, let alone eaten it. I am so exited to give this a try. Your first paragraph was incredibly evocative and had me saying, “yes. She get’s it” over and over. Love this lovely post you lovely lady <3
Kathryn your comment made me so warm inside, thank you sweet lady. Cardoons are so fun (and fun to say as the recommended verbiage is ‘CAR-D-OH-NAY’) – I hope your holidays are so very nice. ♥
When I was working in a restaurant kitchen we had to prepare cardoon and they can be quite prickly little things! I’ve never actually tasted one but I would love to. I haven’t seen them around but if I get my hands on one at the market I will have to try it! Also- love that line about love letters to winter produce- that’s exactly how i feel! xo
Ah Genevieve! I’m so curious to know how your restaurant prepared them! They are most definitely a prickly entity – I swore multiple times, but for such good reason. – – Isn’t winter produce the dreamiest? Summer is always a red hot love affair, but the winter is a cozy nuance. ♥
Ah… I’ve been meaning to read this lovely post (a naked child distracted my first attempt). What a beautiful dish. I love how you tossed the cardoons with pasta here. I’m literally drooling. And ironically, I just bought a box of that same pasta. It’s meant to be 🙂 xoxo
PS- my grandmother made fired cardoons with lemon all the time. This brings back such great memories.
Emilie, thank you so dearly, and for your visit and presence – you remain one of the few that I spoke with that has tangibly interacted with and holds fond memories of the cardoon! It is an exotic creature in its own right. I love the idea of frying cardoon with lemon – is there anything better in this world? So much love to you and your holiday. ♥