Can you eat those? Jerusalem artichokes

One of the standbys for farmers market cooks during this part of the year is jerusalem artichokes. These tubers are not artichokes. In fact, they have nothing to do with artichokes whatsoever.

My understanding is that they are the root of a sunflower varieity. And that makes sense. In most romance languages, the word for sunflower is something like "girasole" which means "turning toward the sun" (and once I made that connection, I could remember an Italian verb, "girare," to turn, which I just kept on forgetting. Now, it's like "turn turn turn," or "gira gira gira" whenever I write. Now if I could remember that guidare is "to drive, " and not "to lead," I could get there from here. ) Okay, enough digression.

Anyway, these guys seem to come in two different types. One is very gnarly and twisted, and always reminds me of some complicated geometric pattern. I tend not to use these, because the other variety looks like a cross between a ginger root and a fingerling potato to me. These are much easier to peel, and peel them you must, because the skin is not too savory.

You can slice them and fry them like chips, or you can boil them and mash them like potatoes, but the way I like to use them most of all, is - big surprise here -in soup. I love the creamy texture they bring to things, and their unusual flavor. Sometimes, however, I find their flavor TOO unusual.

To me, underlying the base flavor of the jerusalem artichokes is an almost "burnt" after taste. It's not unpleasant, but a little of that goes a long way. I've not heard anyone else describe the flavor like that, and they do show up on very fine menus, so maybe it is in fact just my set of taste buds. But in any event, trying to mediate that taste, without killing it, led me to this soup. As did another inspiration.

I love restaurants which post their menus on line, especially if they are menus that change frequently. It's inspiring to me, when I see what cooks are doing elsewhere. Sometimes, I can't do it, because what they have available simply hasn't come around in the Northeast yet. But I can make a mental note of "Hmmm. That's a good way to cook asparagus." or "I never thought of putting that together with peas," and so forth. So in looking over recipes one day, I saw that Chez Panisse was serving what they called "Alice's artichoke and jerusalem artichoke soup." I never saw them serve it again, and of course they didn't post a recipe, but with the idea of using the two of them, I went forward. And I like the soup. Although they aren't related, it seems to me that the flavors compliment each other. Here it is.

Now, first, let me 'fess up that I do in fact use a convenience food here: frozen artichoke hearts. In the Northeast, whole artichokes are expensive. And of course the work involved in cleaning an artichoke down to the heart is not a small investment in time. So I buy frozen artichoke hearts. Okay, okay, hang me, stop reading the blog, assail me in public, do what you like. But before you do, try the soup, huh? Then come back and tell me that I'm a traitor to localism and fresh food everywhere.

First, you will need your soup "base." I use my standard trio of an onion, a carrot, and some celery. I try to chop up about half a cup of each of them. I stay away from herbs, because they don't seem to work real well in this soup. Artichokes are a difficult marriage with other food. Citrus works well with them, but not in soup. So I simply put olive oil into my pot, enough to cover the bottom nicely, and add my chopped veggies and a pinch of salt. I let these cook, until the onion goes translucent, and the crackle begins.

Prior to this, however, I will have peeled, and cut a pound of jerusalem artichokes into coins. You don't HAVE to peel them, if you're going to use a food mill. But if you aren't, and many of you don't have a food mill, peel them. I add the coins together with two boxes of frozen artichoke hearts to the pot, and wait a few minutes (I don't bother thawing the artichokes. The cooking process is more than sufficient). My usual quart of chicken stock goes in, I taste the mix for salt and adjust it to what I like, and then, when the pot comes to the boil, I lower the heat and cover.

Remember the rule of thumb I told you with the other soups? If it grows underground, cover the pot, if not, don't? Well, here we have two major ingredients where one is, and the other is not, an underground veggie. When that happens, I cover the pot (Gee, it sounds like I'm reciting a cooking version of the song "The Name Game," don't I?)

The girasole roots will take a while to get tender, and the artichokes will cook quickly. It's actually okay. I've found that artichoke hearts don't seem to mind the longer cooking, which is really overcooking. But if you do, then wait until the girasoles are beginning to get soft, and add the artichoke hearts at that point. It's really your call.

When they're nice and soft, well.. if you've been reading the soup recipes in this blog, you know what to do: cool and puree. Or cool and mill, if you've got the skins of the girasoles to deal with. Then taste.

This is a soup where, if things are too thick, I would stay away from dairy. I would go with more chicken stock, or water if you feel that the taste is too strong. Garnish? Well, I wouldn't say no to garlic croutons here, but I think that would be about it.

You can find these jerusalem artichokes at farmer's markets. They keep well, but make sure you don't forget about them in your fridge. Once, I did, and they got a little damp, and then began sprouting! I had visions of sunflowers dancing in the air of our extra room, and planted them, but alas, nothing ever came of them. Maybe I'll try it again this year. So much has changed, that perhaps my brown thumb is turning green. I'll let you all know, later in the year