Playing with summer: artichoke ragout

I have no idea what a ragout is. I know what a ragu' is , but I think a ragout is, basically, a stew of different vegetables. If I'm right, and Annalena is never wrong, then this is a ragout, inspired by, well, who knows?
Background here: when I was coming of age in farmers markets, I was told that you could NOT grow artichokes in New York. NO NO NO. Too hard, the season was too long, the soil wasn't right, they took too much trouble.

Then I went to a dinner cooked by the King of local cooking, Peter Hoffmann, and he served artichokes. After the meal, I asked where he got them. He wouldn't tell me.
Today, he would. We have become great friends. BUT, nyah nyah, I don't need to have him tell me, because the farmers of NY took it up as a challenge, and now, you can get artichokes from local farmers.

Lemme tell you though, you can't get em cheap. And if you're looking for those huge globe artichokes that come from California and are so good, keep looking. I recently bought a bunch of them from an organic farmer. I didn't notice the 10.00 a pound price tag. Oh well...

Now, nothing will stimulate Annalena to use something in the fridge like the fact that she paid a small fortune for it. And there was that bag of artichokes in the fridge, and Annalena seeing her hard earned money going to the compost pile. THAT was not going to happen.

Well, Italians use fennel with artichokes a lot. And Annalena LOVES fennel. And she had a bulb of it in the kitchen. (Now, if you don't like fennel, try this anyway because the licorice flavor leaves, and if you don't believe me, use celery instead). So.. we got to work. Here we go.

You can do t his, by the way, with globe artichokes. And if all you have are frozen artichoke hearts, or bottoms, go ahead. It will work. Just cut down the cooking time for the dish.

To prep the artichokes, snap back the outer leaves until the break, and keep on doing that, until you get to the faintly green, soft leaves. The stuff you broke off IS going to the compost pile. Then, cut the tips off of the top of them, as these are sharp critters. If the artichokes are small, half them. If they are big, quarter them. If they are huge, do sixes or eights. Put them in a pot with a smashed clove of garlic, a half teaspoon of salt and liquid consisting of half olive oil and half water to cover them. Then cover the pot. Bring it to a low heat, and cook away until the artichokes are falling apart. This can take anywhere from fifteen minutes to half an hour. Remember the line "stick a fork in him, he's done?" Well, that's what you do here.

While they're cooking, get rid of the stems and the fronds of the fennel and contribute to the compost pile again. Quarter the bulb, and then slice it like celery. OR, if you're using celery, well, slice it like celery.

When the artichokes are finished, drain them, and put the liquid into a frying pan (Remember all that olive oil?). Get this hot, and add the fennel or celery, then after about five minutes, add the artichokes back. Now, add a pint of cherry tomatoes. You don't have to cut them in half. I like them whole, but if you have a desire to do so, cut them up. Toss that into the pot, cover it, and let it cook for about another 7 minutes or so. Taste it and correct the seasoning.

You have a wonderful vegetarian , nay, a VEGAN dish here, that you can put on pasta, or serve by itself. If, as I did, you put it underneath some fish, say cod or monkfish and baked it at 425 for fifteen minutes, you will have a dish that will make you wondering "how wonderful am I?" because you will be.

California, you may have figs, but we have... artichokes. And Peter Hoffmann, I still love you and need you, but your cover's been blown on the artichokes.