It's always difficult to remember when Jerusalem artichokes are in season. I know they are autumnal – with their taupe-coloured skin and ivory flesh they look perfect for that time of year – but they actually go on until March. I love all wintry vegetables, but the more unusual offerings – Jerusalem artichokes and bitter leaves from the chicory family – get my brain buzzing. The flesh of the artichoke is slightly waxy, sweet, nutty and distinctive. So sweet, in fact, that a little can go a long way. I make a gratin dauphinoise replacing half the potatoes with wafer-thin artichoke, but I would never use them alone – too cloying.
It's this sweetness that encourages the cook to reach for flavours to play off it. A smooth Jerusalem artichoke purée is perfect with the bitterness of chicory (endive, treviso and radicchio) and with anything salty, such as bacon, chorizo, anchovies and black olives. Serving them with cured pork is common; I've been making scallops and chorizo with the purée for years, plus a hearty bacon, lentil and Jerusalem artichoke salad.
And less obvious combinations work, too. Try the purée opposite with roast cod and anchovy and caper salsa, for instance. Its sweetness is also a good antidote to meaty, savoury ingredients such as beef, game and wild mushrooms.
Of course they can be treated simply. Roast them with olive oil and herbs, and their sweetness becomes so condensed it's hard to remove their sticky bodies from the tin. And they make great soup. It can be hearty like the one overleaf, or luxurious with cream and strong chicken stock.
I once had a tiny cupful of such a soup (the kind of little extra dish chefs deliver) topped with truffle oil. Made with plenty of butter then blended and sieved, it was velvety-smooth and as rich as foie gras. You wouldn't want more than a shot, but it shows how to elevate a simple vegetable.
What of the name? They have nothing to do with the Holy Land. They are part of the sunflower family, and it's easy to see how a relation of a girasole (Italian for sunflower) could end up being labelled 'Jerusalem'.
Don't be put off by the knobbliness: peeling can be a pain but I hardly ever bother. Mind you, you do have to put them into acidulated water the minute the flesh is exposed or they will discolour. And a word of warning: they can induce windiness, so maybe not a vegetable for a romantic dinner. Wait till you're married.
2 tsp sunflower oil
25g unsalted butter
8 chicken thighs (bone in, skin on)
4 fat heads chicory, halved lengthways
400g shallots, peeled
250ml chicken stock
3 sprigs thyme, plus extra to serve
For the purée
750g Jerusalem artichokes
Good squeeze of lemon
225ml double cream
50ml chicken stock
25g butter
Grating of fresh nutmeg
Heat the oil and butter in a wide heavy-based sauté pan and brown the chicken on all sides, seasoning with salt and pepper. Make sure you don't burn the fat. Remove the chicken and set aside. Now sauté the cut side of the chicory in the fat – you want it tinged with gold – then remove and set aside. Add the whole shallots to the pan and colour those. Put the chicken back in and add the stock and thyme. Bring to the boil, then immediately turn the heat down low, cover and simmer gently for about 20 minutes.
Add the chicory to the pan – try and arrange everything in a single layer – and cook for a further 15 minutes. Make sure there is still stock left to cook the chicory. If there is too much liquid leave the lid off so it can reduce.
If necessary add more stock, but don't drown the chicory. The dish is cooked when the juices in the chicken run clear and the chicory is tender. Taste the liquid before seasoning – because it is reduced stock you shouldn't need salt.
To make the purée cut the artichokes into chunks; I don't bother to peel them but you can if you want. As you cut them, drop them in a pan of cold water to which you have added a good squeeze of lemon (this stops them discolouring). Bring the water to the boil and cook the artichokes until tender. Drain and put back on the heat with the cream, stock, butter, nutmeg and some seasoning. Heat through, then purée in a blender. Taste for seasoning, and judge whether you need to add any more cream or stock (or water) for texture.
Spoon a generous helping of purée on to each plate and put a portion of the braise on top. Decorate with fresh thyme leaves.
1½ tbsp white-wine vinegar
1 tsp Dijon mustard
8 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
Pinch of caster sugar
175g Puy or Umbrian lentils
½ small onion, very finely chopped
½ stick celery, very finely chopped
3½ tbsp olive oil
1½ tbsp finely chopped parsley
350g Jerusalem artichokes, washed
Squeeze of fresh lemon juice
150g chunky bacon lardons
100g baby spinach
150g wild and/or oyster mushrooms, sliced if large
25g unsalted butter
Make the dressing by whisking all the ingredients together.
Rinse the lentils, cover with cold water, bring to the boil and cook until done – 20 to 30 minutes. Make sure they are tender but holding their shape. While they are cooking, gently sauté the onion and celery in 1 tbsp of the oil until soft, but not coloured. Add the lentils and stir to soak up the juices. Add the parsley and two thirds of the dressing and season.
Cook the artichokes in boiling salted water to which you've added a good squeeze of lemon (this stops them discolouring). Once they're just tender, but still have a little bite, drain them and slip off the skins. Slice into rounds 0.5cm thick.
Heat 1½ tbsp of the oil in a pan and sauté the artichoke slices and bacon until coloured and cooked through. Try not to overcook the artichokes.
Toss the spinach, bacon and artichokes with the rest of the dressing and divide between six plates, arranging them in the centre.
Spoon the lentils around this and quickly sauté the mushrooms in the final tbsp olive oil and the butter. Season. Put the mushrooms on top of each salad. Drizzle with the juices from the pan and serve immediately.
75g butter
1 leek, trimmed and cut into rings
½ onion, finely chopped
700g Jerusalem artichokes
850ml chicken or vegetable stock
200ml milk
50g toasted hazelnuts, plus extra to serve
100ml cream
Melt the butter in a heavy-based saucepan and add the leek and onion and a splash of water.
Cover and sweat while you prepare the artichokes. Clean them really thoroughly. I don't always peel them – it depends how knobbly they are and seems to make little difference in the end, but you decide.
Chop into small chunks and throw into the pan with the leeks and onions. Stir around and season. Cover again and sweat until the artichokes are just soft. Add the stock and cook until the mixture is really soft (about 15 minutes). Add the milk and leave to cool.
Add the hazelnuts and blend in a food processor using the pulse button until the mixture is fairly smooth; it's nice to have a little crunch of nut left in. Put the soup back into a pan, add half the cream then taste. You may not want to add any more; it depends how rich you want it. Adjust the seasoning. Reheat and serve with some roughly chopped hazelnuts scattered over each bowlful.
© Stella magazine/The Sunday Telegraph
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