roasted baby artichoke failure
Nearly seven years ago, my best friend bought me a subscription to Martha Stewart Living magazine as holiday present. Tearing open the wrapping paper, I caught a glimpse of a pyramid stack of rigidly squared off Rice Krispy Treat-style cereal bars on one of those ever-upbeat and brightly lit covers I recognized all too well and protested, “But I don’t read Martha Stewart!”
“Of course you don’t,” she said. “Of course not.”
Martha Stewart was fussy and domestic and a grueling perfectionist who doted on the most inane stuff and I, I, I was all of those things; I just hadn’t come to terms with it yet. I would buy the rag for long train rides and chuck it when I got to my destination; nobody had to know but me. My dirty little magazine-stand secret had dewy, dimly lit pictures of ripe melons all over it, oh yeah, but the authentic kind.
I don’t know when I stopped subscribing (odds are, I haven’t, I just move too damned much) but Martha don’t come round no more, so when we were finally reunited on a New Jersey Transit bus last week, I nearly ate the pages, most pertinently the one with the roasted baby artichokes recipe [link removed as page seems to have disappeared] as I will cook or eat anything in the whole world as long as it involved a single iota of artichoke (”even boogers?” my husband asks and I’ll spare you my answer). I love them that much.
I brought home ten miniature artichokes Tuesday night, so adorable I wanted to line them up and create monologues and dance routines for them, but hunger won out. I got to work on them, so excited about the dish I hummed the whole time. Yet, all directions followed to the letter as would make Martha proud (oh, because I do want to make her proud, I really do), 40 minutes later they remained rubbery and undercooked - by quite a bit - and again 20 and then 40 minutes after that. Nearly two hours in a 400 degree oven was all the kitchen blasphemy I could take (if I remind you it was 100 degrees outside, I will be sent to hell, no doubt) and I tried to dig in. They were still bitter. The hearts were cooked but a full minute of chewing couldn’t grind a single leaf in my eager maw.
Heartbroken, I threw the rest into the trash, but two days later, I still want to know where it all went wrong. But, I first have to confess this isn’t the first time a New Exciting Recipe for baby artichokes failed me; the time I grilled them last year, it was ibid with the rubbery and undercooked, even while cooking them well beyond Mark Bittman’s suggestion.
Mostly I’m crushed because I don’t know where this leaves me, Martha and all the plans I had for us. I suspect the only way to move past this will be over Chocolate-Strawberry Thumbprints on page 176. It’s for the relationship, you see.
Just stumbled across your blog and I’ve fallen in love with your photos! Sorry to hear about the Martha-unhappiness, but oh well, at least they looked great? Hehehe, hopefully the next time you cross paths with these globes, it’ll be much more tasty :)
I’m in total infatuation with Martha, too. I’ve bought TONS of back issues of MSL off eBay, and I just love them. I love her entertaining tips the most. Her food always looks great, but I’ve had trouble with several of her recipes. I had two completely fail on me in taste, but not on looks - they were still beautiful: scones and gingerbread. She has broken my heart a few times, but I keep going back for more!
What a charming new blog! As a fellow Martha fan, and baby artichoke eater, I have found that they turn out the best when all leaves with any bit of green are removed. It is, of course, sad to see so much artichoke potential go in the trash, but the tender yellow tiny bits that are left are very delicious roasted, so in the end it is worth it. In fact I’m surprised Martha didn’t give these instructions! Oh well, one cannot be perfect all the time.
you need younger artichokes.
I can’t find it, but Ina Garten has a great roasted artichoke recipe. Granted, she suggests that you eat the outside leaves by placing them in your mouth, clamping your teeth on them, and then pulling them out, scraping the artichokey goodness off of them and then discarding the particularly fibrous part of the leaf.