Artichokes are serious business in my family. Not just any artichokes. My grandmother’s stuffed artichokes. This isn’t fancy, froofy food. Rather, it is down-home, roll-up-your-sleeves and eat-with-your-fingers food. Even my mother, who ate potato chips with a spoon, cast aside her cutlery for these Sicilian delicacies.
Grandmother (as we called her) migrated from northern England to the U.S. with her family in 1910. She learned how to make the artichokes from her Sicilian-born sisters-in-law — my great-aunts — who also taught her how to make many of Grandfather’s favorite foods from “back home,” including fried peppers, eggplant Parmigiana and baked ziti.
But the artichokes were everyone’s favorite, as was the family ritual of sitting at the kitchen table and slowly, slowly devouring them. Leaf by leaf, our lips and tongues gently took in the creamy-chewy stuffing; our teeth scraped out the soft inside of the bracts before biting off the bottom piece of each, which was like getting a teeny taste of the heart, before tossing the then-naked leaf into the discard pile. We would pull off the smaller, pointy and sharp interior leaves just above the hairy “choke,” and bite off their tender bottoms before stopping to evaluate the choke for tenderness. (Many people discard these parts even before cooking the artichokes, but it is often very tender and the “hairs” are often supple and moist, with a good millimeter or two of the heart stuck to the bottom, which we were not willing to waste.) Finally arriving at the heart was cause for pause — either to crow (if it was large) or to cry “no fair” (if unusually small) — before cutting into the tender bottoms and dabbing at any remaining crumbs and juices as though those artichokes were to be our last supper.
Whether for a family celebration or a casual visit, Grandmother usually brought at least a few artichokes — always stuffed — along with her other treats. And when Grandmother was doling out artichokes, it was not uncommon to hear my brother and me “discussing” how they should be divided among us. After years of refereeing these often-heated arguments, my father finally devised the one-cuts-the-other-chooses policy. If an artichoke was to be divided, one child would cut it and the other would choose which portion they would like. If there was one small artichoke and one large artichoke, each would be divided and shared per that method. (It’s no surprise that we learned to cut with surgeon-like skill.)
Sadly, there came a day when Grandmother’s arthritis and Alzheimer’s got the best of her and the artichokes were no more. Worse, no one had documented the recipe or even watched her make them.
While there were no written instructions, Grandmother had, on occasion, related the ingredients and methodology to us. After a few years of artichoke drought, hoping that I remembered correctly, I tried making them. They were delicious, but they weren’t the same. My brother had a similar experience. Reminiscing at her funeral, more than 20 years after Grandmother had stuffed her last artichoke, it became clear that unbeknownst to one another, our cousins — all of her grandchildren — also were trying to duplicate her artichokes, all to no avail. We each came close, but none of ours were exactly like hers.
Inspired by the recent onset of the spring artichoke season, I decided to give Grandmother’s artichokes another try. With nobody left to confirm or deny whether I have truly nailed them, I can’t say for sure whether I have actually done so, but I can say that if not, I have come remarkably close. They have the right balance of stuffing components and the texture — moist but not soggy or oily — is correct. They taste to me of childhood and transport me to that gold-specked, white Formica kitchen table of my youth, the four of us at our designated places, silently sucking on our artichoke leaves. (We were that busy eating our all-time favorite food.)
While the flavors are pretty darned close if not spot on, I have modified the cooking method. After trimming the artichokes, Grandmother par-boiled them, stuffed them and then baked them. I wanted to simplify the process and perhaps reduce the dirty-dish pile.
Always looking for an excuse to use my multicooker, the first thing I tried was pressure cooking rather than par-boiling the artichokes. Indeed, making them in the pressure cooker was faster and elicited creamy, tender hearts, but I soon realized that because of artichokes’ variability (some are gigantic, some are small, some are more fibrous), it is nearly impossible to implement a standard cooking time for them.
Some research revealed a method that called for stuffing the artichokes while still raw and then cooking them over steam before briefly finishing them in the oven. I loved the idea of eliminating a step and was thrilled with the result. The steaming ensured that the stuffing was nicely moistened throughout. After the steam bath, a few minutes in the oven dried them out just a bit and gave the tops of the leaves a nice golden touch.
I tried a few approaches to the stuff-steam-bake technique and found that a steamer basket set in a Dutch oven produced the best result. (Pressure cooking the stuffed artichokes in the multicooker worked, though here too the results were inconsistent, even among artichokes of similar size — and the method required an additional baking dish for the final step.)
Having decided on the cooking method, I turned to the stuffing: breadcrumbs, Romano cheese, garlic, parsley, salt and pepper. Grandmother used dried parsley and granulated garlic. I tried upgrading by using fresh instead of dried. Admittedly, the mincing and chopping were not simpler and, ironically, the results were good but not necessarily better. It was difficult to evenly distribute the fresh, grated garlic in the breadcrumb and cheese mixture and once cooked, the difference between fresh parsley and dried was inconsequential. So I kiboshed fresh garlic and fresh parsley was out too.
As for the breadcrumbs, I learned that fresh ones are wonderful but not necessary. Also, panko worked better than “regular” breadcrumbs. On the gluten-free side, I found it important to identify the source of the “breadcrumbs.” Those made from potato flakes and potato starch were very gummy, but those made from rice products, such as Kikkoman’s gluten-free panko, gave a much better result.
The real stuffing game changer was moistening it with olive oil before filling the artichokes. A few tablespoons to bring it to the consistency of wet, grainy sand made the stuffing process easier and also elicited a texture just like Grandmother’s, which was a big win. With that worked out, the precise ratios of the stuffing ingredients became less critical — though I do believe I also found the right balance of bread to cheese to garlic to salt (and that the parsley is more about visual appeal than actual flavor).
Almost 40 years later, Grandmother’s artichokes are back on the table, though with both my father and brother gone, the ritual is not quite the same and emotions around them don’t run quite so high. Regardless, I will always be grateful that my English grandmother learned to cook from her Sicilian sisters-in-law rather than her British sisters. I can’t imagine the path my life would have taken had I grown up eating jellied eels, black pudding and mutton rather than stuffed artichokes.
Grandmother’s Sicilian-Style Stuffed Artichokes (And How To Trim Them)
This roll-up-your-sleeves-and-eat-with-your-fingers dish for casual, intimate, at-home occasions is my family’s all-time favorite food. A stuffed, jumbo artichoke can in itself be a full meal for one or shared as an appetizer or snack, though its deliciousness can lead to a certain territorialism. Parmesan can be substituted for the pecorino Romano and gluten-free breadcrumbs can be substituted for regular — just be sure they are not made from potato flakes, which get gummy in the cooking.
Time: 2 hours 25 minutes
Yields: Serves 2 to 4
Ingredients
- 3.5 ounces (1 1/2 cups) panko breadcrumbs
- 4.5 ounces (1 cup) finely grated pecorino Romano cheese
- 2 tablespoons dried parsley
- 1 1/2 tablespoons granulated garlic
- 1 teaspoon Diamond Crystal kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
- 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
- 2 jumbo artichokes or 4 large globe artichokes
- 1 lemon
- Olive oil cooking spray
Directions
1. Prepare the steamer: Set a steamer rack into a large, lidded pot, Dutch oven or oven-proof casserole and fill the pan with water to the level of the steamer. (Or set up your regular steaming apparatus).
2. Mix the stuffing: In a large bowl, mix together the breadcrumbs, cheese, parsley, granulated garlic, salt and pepper until thoroughly blended. Drizzle 5 tablespoons of the oil over the mixture and stir with a large spoon until the oil is uniformly distributed. The stuffing should be the consistency of grainy wet sand. Set aside.
3. Pare the artichokes: Slice the lemon in half and rub the surface of one of the halves over your fingers. (The polyphenols in the artichokes turn black when exposed to oxygen and they discolor the skin when they come in contact with it. The acid in the lemon will prevent the blackening of the hands as well as of the vegetables themselves.) As you work with the artichokes, rub lemon on all of the exposed edges to prevent discoloration.
Hold an artichoke in your palm with the stem facing away from you. One by one, pull the small leaves off of the stem – pull against the direction in which they grow – and, working toward the base, pull off the smaller outermost layer of leaves as well and discard. If the outer layer of leaves on the artichoke is still very small, remove that layer as well. Lay the artichoke on its side on a secured cutting board. Using a sharp knife, cut off the stem as close to the base as possible so that the artichoke will sit flat when set upright. Cut an inch or two from the other, dry (and probably blackened) end of the stem and discard. Use a peeler or paring knife to peel the stem from end to end. Rub the stem all over with lemon and set aside.
Lay the artichoke on its side again and using a serrated knife, cut off the top third – 1 to 2 inches – of the artichoke leaves and discard. Rub lemon over the exposed edges of the leaves that remain in place. Holding the artichoke in one hand, use a scissor to snip the prickly tops off of the remaining bracts at approximately the widest part of the leaf. Start with the outer layer of leaves at the base and work inward to create an alternating pattern until all of the prickly leaf tips have been removed and the leaves make an attractive graduated pattern around the body of the artichoke.
(Some people like to remove center-most leaves as well. To do this, use a pointy-edged spoon such as a teaspoon (a grapefruit spoon with one serrated edge works particularly well for this) to dig down into the center and scoop them out from the bottom, also removing the hairy “choke” and discard. This is completely optional.) Repeat with remaining artichokes.
4. Stuff the artichokes: Stand an artichoke upright on the cutting board. Starting from the center and working outward, use your fingers to gently pull the leaves outward to create spaces between them. Lift and hold the artichoke in one hand over the bowl of stuffing, and using the fingers of the other hand pull the leaves apart and fill the spaces with stuffing. This works best if done systematically, starting from either the inside or outside. Feel free to lay an artichoke on its side in the stuffing mixture and push stuffing into the gaps between the leaves. Use one hand to squeeze to create space and the other to fill the space. Fill each of the snipped bracts of the outer layers and as many inner leaves as the artichoke (and your patience) will allow. When it is full of stuffing, brush any straggling crumbs off the exterior so that the only crumbs visible are inside the bracts. Repeat with remaining artichokes. Depending on the size of your artichokes, you may have more stuffing than you need. Reserve any extra for another use such as stuffing other vegetables.
5. Steam the artichokes: Bring the water in your steaming apparatus to a boil over high heat. Place the artichokes upright in the steamer basket. Drizzle each with about a tablespoon of olive oil and place the basket with the artichokes in/over the boiling water. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover and cook until very tender, about an hour and 20 minutes depending on the size and fibrousness of the artichokes. You should be able to easily pull out a leaf from midway between the center and the outer bracts. Check the water level every 20 to 30 minutes and add more if necessary.
6. Bake the artichokes: Heat the oven to 350. Once the artichokes are tender, remove the lid and lightly spray the artichokes with cooking spray (if necessary, use tongs to transfer the artichokes to a baking dish that will hold them snugly and spoon some of the steaming water into the bottom of the dish, so they are sitting in about 1/2 inch of liquid. It should not come up above the lowest/outermost bracts.) Slide the casserole/Dutch oven, uncovered, into the oven. Bake until the outer leaves have just turned golden, 5 to 7 minutes.
7. Serve hot or at room temperature.
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