What Are Those?

If you have visited the restaurant recently it is hard not to notice the other worldly and prehistoric presence of the cardoons in the garden. They stood a foot tall when they  were planted last year. They  survived the icy and cold winter and emerged this spring with intensity. They beckon you to look at them as you approach the entrance of the restaurant showing off the glory of their grandeur. I have had many conversations about these cardoons.  Some people think they are large thistles (they are sometimes referred to as artichoke thistles). Some  think they are artichokes (related species). Wild and cultivated cardoons and artichokes are very similar genetically, but they are not the same plant.

I was first introduced to them by Cleo Braver (Cottingham Farm) and I believe it was in

2020 during COVID. As I reflect back, it had to be during COVID because I actually had the time to research and prepare them. Preparing cardoons is a labor intensive endeavor  and I am not sure I would make them again unless I was desperate. Perhaps that is unfair. All new tasks take longer as you bumble through with insecurity and the uncertainty that you are executing them correctly. The part of the plant that is  used in culinary preparation are the stems . Only the innermost, white stalks are considered edible. As I researched how to prepare them I learned that they are part of Lyonnaise cuisine (e.g. gratin de cardons).  I read that  cardoons are therefore usually prepared  by protecting the leaf stalks from the sunlight for several weeks.(I skipped that step thinking Cleo had already “cured” them!) This was traditionally done by burying the plant underground, thus, cardoon plantations in Spain are often formed by characteristic earth mounds surrounding each plant, the earth covering the stalks.

To prepare them before cooking you have to strip off the spiky leaves, peel the stems, cut them into pieces and finally boil them until they are al dente. I prepared them cacio e Pepe style. They were good, but I wasn’t blown away and obsessed with making them again. They taste a bit like a cross between an artichoke and celery with a slight bitterness. I am sure if I was preparing them regularly and not bumbling my way through the process perhaps I would grow to really enjoy them. For now I will just admire their presence in the garden and watch the bumble bees happily bounce around collecting  and distributing the pollen from the beautiful purple blossoms.