Summer Discoveries: Cicely Straws, New Greens and…Fries with Eyes?

Though I love to travel to faraway locations as much as anyone, I don't have to go far from home to make some (potentially life-changing) discoveries. We're only a little over a month into the summer—in the Pacific Northwest the good weather can extend well into September or October—and it's been a banner season so far for eye-opening experiences.

Along with making my own infused vinegar and oil from the spiky pink pompoms in my chive patch, I've had three other new-to-me revelations.

At the Hoodland Farmers Market.

While I was planning a week-long sojourn in a cabin on Mt. Hood, I heard that the Hoodland Farmers Market in Welches had launched its first season and would be open during our stay. Being the farmers' market obsessive that I am, it was immediately put on our schedule. The day after we arrived, I had picked up a few greens to tide us over for the week when a small pile of green stick-like bundles caught my eye.

A hand-lettered sign said "Sweet Cicely Straws 10¢," so I asked the tall bearded fellow standing behind the table what they were like. He said they had a mild, slightly sweet flavor and that they'd be good with light sodas, but when he mentioned he preferred them with gin and tonics, I was sold. A little research revealed that cicely is related to anise, fennel and caraway—it's sometimes used to flavor akvavit—and that the leaves, seeds and roots are all edible.

In the interest of science, on our return to the cabin we immediately tested them with gin and tonics, served al fresco by the river, and while the flavor was subtle, indeed, they were a perfect (and perfectly local), functional garnish.

* * *

Confession time: My name is Kathleen and I have a greens problem.

There. I said it. I can't pass by a pile of leafy vegetation at a market without stopping and admiring the fluorescent light green, dark green or medium green hue, caressing a leaf to find out whether it's thick and substantial or soft and ephemeral. I imagine what it would be like to cook with (or not), whether to steam, chop, chiffonade or leave it whole, what preparation would bring out its best flavor.

Like I said, a problem.

So, of course, when Josh Alsberg of Rubinette Produce mentioned in passing that he'd just received some sweet potato greens from Groundwork Organics north of Eugene, it was all I could do not to grab him by the lapels—Josh with lapels is an odd image, but an apt metaphor for my mania—and insist he give me some right away.

But I held myself in check, picked up a bunch (well, two) and brought them home. Fairly substantial, the deep forest green leaves seemed like they would hold up to a quick stir-fry, so I threw them into a hot pan already heaped with sautéed spring onions and green garlic, spritzed them with tiny bit of chive vinegar and served them alongside rotisserie chicken.

So, you might ask, am I going to try to free myself of this greens obsession? Um…no…not anytime soon, as a matter of fact.

* * *

It started with a dinner on the garden-like patio at Burrasca with owners Elizabeth Petrosian and Chef Paolo Calamai. Elizabeth had posted photos of their Tuscan artichoke dishes made with organic purple Italian artichokes, grown by Tom and Patreece DeNoble of DeNoble Farms, which included a salad of raw shaved baby artichokes, tiny and tender fried baby artichokes and a creamy, delicate artichoke sformato.

Over the fire.

Another dish on the menu was frittura con gli occhi, amusingly translated as "fries with eyes," which was, to me, an irresistible must-have, not only because of the name but it also being fresh West Coast anchovies simply breaded and fried whole. (Yes, whole, as in heads on.) Tiny, crispy and tasting of the sea, I was entranced.

Tiny, tender and delicious.

So it was fortuitous when, the very next day, I stopped by Flying Fish, Lyf Gildersleeve's outpost for sustainably sourced fish, and what should be in the fresh case but some of those very same fresh anchovies. I bought a pound and brought them home, breading half of them in a flour, salt, pepper and pimenton mixture and the other half in a panko, salt and pepper mix.

Frying them in olive oil on a cast iron skillet on the grill, the flour breading coated them more completely and gave the little fish some extra crunch, while the panko was a bit scanty and not as crispy. But oh so fun and so delicious! (Plus I got to say frittura con gli occhi several times that evening.)

In Season NW: Spring Things…Baby Artichokes

Tender young things are everywhere at the farmers' markets these days, from curly green scapes of garlic to sweet spring onions to the diminutive first buds of the artichoke flower. These baby artichokes are different from their more developed selves, and not just in their size. Because they are picked at such an early stage of development, they don't have the leathery leaves or the fuzzy choke, which means they can be eaten whole after some trimming.

Snap off outer leaves.

I'd bought a couple of pounds of these little gems at the King farmers market, thinking they might come in handy for an appetizer that I needed to take to a dinner that evening. The sizes ranged from itsy bitsy (cones a couple of inches long) to small (a little over three inches), and I was planning to combine them with some of Dave's pancetta and chopped spring garlic for a finger or fork-friendly snack.

Sauté in pancetta fat…mmmmm.

I'd recommend buying more artichokes than you think you'll need, since the trimming process whittles down the size of the artichokes by more than half. But once that's done, I think you'll find this sauté is fabulous as an appetizer or as part of an antipasto platter, but would also be terrific tossed with pasta. A fittingly delicious tribute to spring!

Baby Artichokes with Pancetta, Garlic and Lemon

2 lbs. baby artichokes (or more)
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1/4 lb. pancetta or bacon
2 Tbsp. garlic, minced fine
Zest of 1 lemon
Juice of 1 1/2 lemons
1/2 tsp. pimenton (smoked Spanish paprika), optional

To prepare the artichokes, fill a medium-sized mixing bowl with water and the juice of 1/2 lemon. Snap off the outer leaves of each artichoke until you reach the tender, pale inner leaves. Cut off the upper half of the cone and discard. With a paring knife, trim the stem to 1/2" and peel off the outer skin. Halve each artichoke and immediately place in bowl with lemon water to keep them from browning.

In a large skillet, heat the olive oil and fry the pancetta until browned and its fat is rendered. Remove pancetta from skillet with a slotted spoon and put aside, leaving fat in the skillet. Remove artichokes from acidulated water and dry slightly, then add to fat remaining in skillet. Sauté till tender, about 9 minutes. Add garlic and pimenton (if using) and sauté briefly. Remove from heat and stir in lemon zest and remaining lemon juice. Cool to room temperature and serve.

In Season: With Artichokes, Babies Are Best

Sometimes I think contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood has his booth at the PSU Farmers' Market for the sole reason that he gets first pick of all the newest produce as it comes in season. So if you see him there, be sure to quiz him about his recommendations while you peruse the Italian olive oils, vinegars, fennel pollen and particularly the addictive origano Pantesco (Italian oregano) he has on offer.

The first artichokes of the year appeared at the farmers' market on Saturday, so I bought a bag of the little thistles from my friends’ at Groundworks Organics. When the globes are really young, the fuzzy choke is hardly there, so trimming them down to just the bottoms isn’t too onerous. It still takes some time, but I think the results are worth it and there should be still be plenty available for the next several weeks.

Carciofe Pantesco
 
Cut the top half of the baby artichokes away, pull off most of the leaves, split the artichokes from top to bottom, and dig out any fuzzy choke. Most recipes call for putting cut artichokes into acidulated water (lemon juice or vinegar added) to prevent browning, but they turn brown when you cook them anyway, so I skip this part. Just put the trimmed artichokes halves in a heavy pan (one you can cover) with a good bit of extra virgin olive oil.

Into the same skillet add a couple (2-4, depending) of the best anchovies you can buy (these at Gustiamo are the best I’ve found and worth every penny), cleaned if salt-packed, diced small. Also add a few cloves of garlic, diced, a couple of tablespoons of good capers (you can buy the Pantellerian capers from Gustiamo, too, until my load arrives), and a good pinch or two of origano Pantesco. Cook everything gently in the oil for about 10 minutes, then add about a quarter cup of water, cover and simmer for about 20 minutes or until the artichokes are tender. Good hot or at room temp.

The Art of Cooking Babies

As mentioned below, to me spring is all about babies. And no, I'm not talking about human babies or those little white fuzzy lambs you always see in ads, since spring lamb can actually be up to a year old and nearly full grown. But I digress. So let me start over.

Making the soffritto.

Spring is all about sweet young things, especially in the vegetable department. Baby greens, baby carrots, baby heads of romaine, baby bok choy. Tender, sweet and oh-so-fleeting. So when I saw a bag of 20 baby artichokes for five bucks at the Lake Oswego farmers' market, I grabbed them.

The finale.

Using a recipe from Mark Bittman's Minimalist column in the NYT dining section a couple of weeks ago, I made a pasta dish that, if I do say so myself, had a couple more cojones than Bittman's and was oh-so-seasonal. If you can get fresh baby artichokes, more's the better, but if you must resort to frozen, it's still going to kill at your next dinner party.

Baby Artichokes with Anchovies and Cherry Tomatoes

1/4 c. olive oil
4 cloves garlic, crushed, then peeled
6 anchovy filets
Fresh thyme or rosemary
1/2 c. black olives, pitted (I prefer oil-cured, but kalamatas work just fine)
Salt
10 baby artichokes
1 pint grape tomatoes, halved
1 c. parmesan or romano, grated
1 lb. pasta, whatever shape you prefer

Boil salted water for pasta (a chef friend said it should be as salty as sea water). Combine oil and garlic in a large skillet over low heat. When garlic sizzles, add herb, olives, salt and anchovies.

Meanwhile, one at a time, prepare artichokes: remove hard leaves, then cut off spiky end; trim bottoms, cut artichokes in half and add them to pan as they are ready, cut side down. Raise heat so they brown a bit; move them around as you add remaining artichokes so that they brown evenly.

When artichokes brown, add tomatoes and a splash of water. Cook until chokes are tender, 10 to 20 minutes. Add water if needed. Adjust seasoning, then pour over hot pasta and garnish with cheese, with the remainder in a bowl for sprinkling. As artichokes are cooking, cook pasta. When it is done, drain and put in serving bowl. Pour artichoke mixture over top and sprinkle with parmesan.