If
you were asked to vote for the Vegetable Most Likely to Succeed,
the contenders would be many. The carrot, probably; the potato,
perhaps; zucchini, almost certainly. These are all friendly, approachable
vegetables that don't put you through an obstacle course to eat
them. As for the Least Likely candidate, the artichoke would be
hard to beat. Not only does it have thorns, which is off-putting,
but it's designed like a multilayered fibrous suit of armor. Its
leaves are three-quarters inedible and, as a final hurdle, it offers
a mouthful of throat-tickling fluff at its center appropriately
called the "choke."
And yet here
is a vegetable about to be celebrated with its own festival for
the 41st year in a row. On May 20 and 21, marching bands and artichoke-festooned
floats will set the tone as the Artichoke Festival Parade wends
its way through the streets of Castroville, Calif., a farming
community some 16 miles north of Monterey. Under the famous sign
proclaiming "Castroville, the Artichoke Center of the World,"
arts and crafts people will preside over booths covered with artichoke
memorabilia: T-shirts, aprons, candlesticks. Human artichokes
in many-petaled green costumes will stroll with escorts dressed
as jars of mayonnaise and bars of butter. This year, 20,000 visitors
are expected for events such as the 10K footrace through artichoke
fields, the car shows, artichoke eating at food concessions, recipe
contests, and chefs' demonstrations. As always, the majority of
proceeds go to charity.
Although user-friendliness
is not one of the artichoke's virtues, these apple-shaped members
of the thistle family get our attention. Perhaps it's the vegetable's
checkered past, filled with notorious and glamorous associations
and a history that precedes its relationship with Castro-ville,
which started production in 1922.
California
has led U.S. production of artichokes since the 1890s when Half
Moon Bay's Italian farmers planted the first crops. A decade and
a half later, they exported artichokes back east to enthusiastic
New Yorkers. So enthusiastic, it turned out, that New York's racketeers
wanted a piece of the lucrative action. Not only did they terrorize
distributors and produce merchants, they even launched an attack
on the artichoke fields from Montara to Pescadero, hacking down
the plants with machetes in the dead of night. These "artichoke
wars" led Mayor Fiorello La Guardia to declare "the sale, display,
and possession" of artichokes in New York illegal. In his words:
"A racketeer in artichokes is no different than a racketeer in
slot machines." This put artichokes on the front page, increasing
their demand everywhere, even among those who'd never seen one.
Finally, La Guardia publicly admitted that he himself loved the
vegetable (with mayo) and after only one week he lifted the ban.
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Back in Castroville,
landowner Andrew Molera encouraged farmers to grow artichokes,
which he thought would thrive in the Salinas Valley's loamy, well-drained
soil and cool, fog-dusted summers. This first crop was planted
in the early '20s and today Castroville, home to two major packers
and the country's only artichoke processing plant, grows 75 percent
of the state's artichokes.
Of all the
artichoke's moments in the sun, probably the most glittering took
place in 1947 when Marilyn Monroe came to Castroville. Although
her appearance had nothing to do with artichokes, some local growers
asked the starlet to be California's Artichoke Queen. She accepted.
They were either totally unprepared for her response or there
was a refreshing absence of PR hotshots, because the photographs
taken of her coronation, reportedly at a Kiwanis Club luncheon,
have been lost. The event is memorialized by a yellowed newspaper
clipping of a smiling Marilyn, staring adoringly at an artichoke
and surrounded by a small crowd of embarrassed gentlemen. In another
Hollywood affiliation, actress Kim Novak was served a plate of
fried artichokes at a Castroville restaurant. She devoured them
happily—after sprinkling them liberally with sugar.
Even ordinary
people have been baffled by the artichoke's idiosyncrasies. Almost
anyone who hasn't undergone formal artichoke training has a story
about chewing the inedible leaves interminably until, as one friend
confessed, "I finally just hid them in my pocket."
Cultivation
of the traditional artichoke, called the green globe, is labor-intensive.
The plant must be hand harvested before the buds, which are the
edible part, flower into blue-violet blossoms. Propagation is
accomplished by cuttings from the rootstock. Although artichokes
are being grown from seed, too, some artichoke aficionados consider
these thornless varieties mushy and lacking in flavor. Consumers
can identify the seed type from the true-blue green globe by searching
for the telltale thorns.
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Duarte's
Cream of Artichoke Soup serves 4
Bring
water to a boil with oil, lemon juice, and two garlic
cloves. Add the artichokes and cook 45 minutes. Remove
hearts and puree in food processor with some of the
stock, remaining garlic, salt, and pepper. Slice 1/2
to 1 cup of the tender end of the leaves into thin
strips. Reheat soup with leaves, half-and-half, and
thyme.
4
cups water
1 tbs. lemon juice
1 tbs. oil
4 garlic cloves, crushed
3 lbs. artichokes (3 to 4 medium, trimmed of thorns)
2 cups chicken stock
1 cup half-and-half
1 tsp. ground pepper
1 tsp. salt sprig of fresh thyme or
1 tsp. dried thyme
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Last year,
California, which accounts for nearly 100 percent of the commercial
crop, produced more than 9,300 acres of artichokes at a value
more than $46 million. But this fernlike plant with its deeply
serrated leaves, whose name comes from the Arabic al' quarshuf,
was around even before California. Reliable evidence suggests
that in the second century artichokes were the costliest garden
vegetable in the Roman marketplace. In the 1500s, when Catherine
de Médicis left Italy to become the bride of Henry II, she purportedly
brought along her beloved artichokes, transporting them into French
gastronomy. A hint of scandal surrounded her devotion to the intriguingly
configured vegetable, which is said to have aphrodisiac properties.
Its popularity
spread through Europe and on to the New World, where it was often
found on the tables of wealthy Virginia planters. Martha Washington's
Booke of Cookery contains a 17th-century recipe entitled "To Make
Hartichoak Pie." By the early 20th century, Fannie Farmer notes
in her ninth edition that California artichokes were selling in
Boston for 30 to 40 cents each.
But the artichoke's
appeal is no mystery: Its lush texture and nutty taste lure us
through all impediments. No wonder recipes abound. A French classic
called barigoule features the thistle braised with mushrooms and
ham, while the Italians take pride in carciofi al'inferno: sautéed,
filled with garlic, crumbs, and capers. One of the world's most
succulent preparations is closer to home. In Pescadero, Duarte's
Tavern has been knee-deep in artichokes almost since the family
restaurant was established in 1890. The restaurant has an artichoke
patch out back from which each morning the cooks gather enough
for the day's orders of Duarte's cream of artichoke soup. When
asked for the recipe, owner Ron Duarte was fairly nonspecific:
"I just make it is what I do." A little coaxing yielded the recipe,
but only traveling to the restaurant assures the real thing. Wherever
you live, it's worth a special journey.
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