Pickled Jerusalem Artichoke

I’m not a frequent canner. It’s an all day job, and when you’re done, you’re left with a bazillion jars of an item – great if you’re building a bunker and never coming out, or dream of becoming the Pickle Fairy and sprinkling your fiends and family with gifts.

There is one thing that sends me straight to the kitchen to don my Pickle Fairy tutu, and that’s Jerusalem artichokes – the knobby tuber of a sunflower with thin brown skin, and crispy white flesh.

Gifted with two huge bags of Jerusalem artichokes last Friday, I was on the hunt for canning jars that evening, and in the kitchen the next day making Jerusalem artichoke pickles. (I swear I'm not a complete dork. I went to a show, out to the bar, and took in Sixers game that weekend, too.)

Last year I canned Jerusalem artichoke relish, which is my absolute favorite way to eat Jerusalem artichokes, but pickles are the next best way to eat these tubers – at least in my opinion.

These Jerusalem artichoke pickles retain the pleasing, crunchy texture of raw Jerusalem artichokes, but have a spicy, sweet-and-sour zing, and a cheery yellow color imparted by turmeric.

Harvest the tubers after the first frost, but before they sprout again (time is getting short now that it’s spring), or pick them up at the market when in season (I’ve seen some at Trader Joe’s recently). If you harvest your own, you must clean the bejesus out of the soil-caked knobby knobs, but it’s sooo worth it. And don’t peel them – unless you’re masochistic!

Gifted with so many Jerusalem Artichokes, I needed to multiply the recipe below by six! If you don’t feel like canning, this recipe makes only 2 pints, which you will eat in no time. I doubled the sugar amount, which is reflected in the recipe, but adjust sugar to your liking.

Pickled Jerusalem Artichoke
Adapted from The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook
Makes 2 pints

1 ¾ pounds Jerusalem artichokes, washed
1 quart water
2 tablespoons kosher salt
3 cups cider vinegar
1 cup water
3 tablespoons sugar
½ teaspoon whole black peppercorns
¼ teaspoon coriander seed
3 whole allspice berries
½ teaspoon whole red peppercorns (optional)
¼ teaspoon ground turmeric
2 dried red hot chilies (Thai or chiles de arbol)

• Bring a 3-quart pot, three quarters full of water to a boil. Set jars and their lids, along with a slotted metal spoon in the boiling water to sterilize. Boil for 15 minutes, then remove carefully with tongs, and set aside.
• Trim bad spots from tubers, and cut the tubers into chunks between the size of a grape and a walnut (you should have about 4 cups of artichokes chunks).
• In a bowl, combine artichokes, 1 quart of water, and one tablespoon of salt, stir to dissolve. Soak for 4 hours on the counter top, or overnight in the refrigerator. Drain and rinse the artichokes, then pat them dry.
• Bring vinegar, 1 cup of water, the remaining 1 tablespoon of salt, sugar, and all the spices except the chiles to a boil for 4 minutes.
• Using the slotted spoon, place one pepper in each jar, then carefully pack the jars with the artichokes, and pour the hot vinegar brine over the artichokes up to 1/2 inch below the neck. Place any remaining spices in the pot into the jars. Seal the jars, and process in boiling water if canning (I processed these 15 minutes). If only making a small batch, allow to cool, and store in the refrigerator. Unprocessed pickled artichokes will keep for about 4 weeks in the refrigerator.

Hospitable No Reservations

A la Bourdain on his Top Chef blog, I’m commenting on last night’s South Carolina episode of No Reservations, as South Carolina is my home state and my Dad – yes, Lake Erie is his name – was that fat man showing Anthony around Sweatman’s BBQ.

I braced myself (three glasses of wine in one hour) for the worst after my Dad forewarning me that he hammed it up for the cameras, and seeing previews rife with Southern clichés the week before. I thought for sure Tony would use his wit and sarcasm to rip South Carolina a new hole in between praising Southern food. Actually, he always seems very gracious and thankful to his hosts on camera, and my Dad wholeheartedly proclaimed Tony and his entire crew the nicest bunch of people ever. It’s just Tony’s bread and butter snark that can sting if you take everything he says to heart. You shouldn’t. And I shouldn’t have expected the worst.

Tony starts off in Charleston, the rightfully tourist-packed historic seaside city of palm trees and stately mansions. First stop is Hominy Grill. I think everyone stops here first, and for good reason. Hominy Grill serves up classic Southern food that’s made correctly and with care. You don’t have to fear gallons of grease and slop.

I can’t get Tony’s comments about Rachel Ray dining on $40 a day out of my head, though. At $40 a day, Rachel's a cheap ho... uh, cheap-0.

Next up, is a stroll through the side alleys and church yards of Charleston with Southern foods catalog proprietors, and prize-winning Southern cookbook authors, the Lee Brothers. Tony and the Lee’s are on their way to a party dressed in tuxes. Don’t let Tony’s observation that Charleston dresses up at night fool you. You’re not going to find guys crowding the streets in tuxes unless someone’s getting married, it’s a fancy-dancy party, or a lets-get-dressed-up-for-shits-and-giggles party.

What you should brace yourself for while in Charleston are men (old and young) in pale blue seersucker suits...or pink polos with khaki Bermuda shorts, and Docksiders without socks. Women (mostly older) will be sporting fugly hats, sleeveless polos, theme-embroidered (palms, martini glasses, frogs, etc.) Capri’s, and bedazzled and bejeweled kitten-heeled sandals – all coordinated to the enth degree. Your black dress and leather thigh-high boots are going to be out of place. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

While at the party, the Lee’s discuss Southern foods offered in their catalog – boiled peanuts, green tomato pickles, and Jerusalem artichokes – that those who have left the region yearn for and miss. It’s true. I’ve written about each one.

Oh, oh. There’s my Dad on the screen. My Dad ran down the way to cook barbecue, the wood used, the difference between barbecue and grilling, the four types of barbecue sauce, and the history of barbecue, all the while creating great soundbites in an enthusiastic Southern Accent. His secret: emphasize two words in every sentence – it doesn’t matter which two. I’m glad to say that I laughed, not cringed, through the entire segment. Fittingly, my Dad is a ham.

Then it’s off to the Civil War re-enactment camp, where Tony couldn’t have summed up better how I think of these wool-clad history enthusiasts – somewhere on the nerd continuum between stamp collectors and trekkies.

Then to visit and learn about the Gullah people of the Low Country and their culture. I think they found the easiest to understand Gullah people ever. It can be hard to understand their language, and I even grew up with my Momma reading me stories written in the Gullah dialect.

Frogmore Stew? Sorry, don’t eat meat and missed it when I did. Drag hunting? Ain’t never experienced that before.

At Jestine’s Kitchen, Tony tries to order the entire menu in an effort to get all the classics in before retreating North. But before they eat, Tim Driggers, a local food writer, irreverently prays and offers up some Ramones and The Stooges albums. Yep, we's crazy, fun, kind people.

Now, I missed who that woman was sitting at the table in Jestin’s, but she mentions chocolate cake with mayonnaise dressing on top? I’ve heard of chocolate cake made with mayonnaise acting like an oil, but on top? Can I get some of what she’s smoking? And a slice of that cake?

Hey, it’s the Lee brother’s again! This time they’re shuckin’ oysters at an outside oyster roast. I swear, no matter where Tony goes he’s always sucking on oysters – and pig.

The show concludes with Tony proclaiming himself a true believer in Southern hospitality, but confused about why the ubiquitous pineapple represents hospitality. I don’t know why either. Without looking it up, I’d say a pineapple is a very nice gift, and you’re a very nice person to give someone a pineapple, and a very nice person if you get a pineapple

So, here’s a pineapple for you, Tony, for not ripping us a new hole and being so very nice to my Dad.

Banana Pudding Ice Cream

The instructions for the ice cream maker I found at a garage sale were quite simple – freeze container, turn on machine, fill container, wait 30 minutes. Settling on the first batch of ice cream to make was not so simple. In fact, it turned into a big deal.

So excited to make ice cream, I went out and bought The Perfect Scoop, an ice cream and frozen dessert cookbook by David Lebovitz, with anticipation of making one of the esoteric flavors like goat cheese ice cream or basil ice cream. My partner was not too excited about such flavors, and wanted something basic. After an entire night of debating ice cream flavors, we agreed on the classic Italian chocolate and hazelnut gelato.

A day packed with activities caused us to reach the grocery store most likely to have hazelnuts in stock at a time other than Christmas late in the day. The store was closed. The Crapme (Acme) had nothing but long lines moving no where. Long story a little shorter, I didn’t quite follow a recipe from David Lebovitz’s book, although it was my every intention to follow directions, but the world was against me. The first ice cream batch sucked – not the Perfect Scoop’s fault. Next time I'm going to add the recommended ingredients.

The world was working with me the next day. Really, I wanted banana pudding ice cream all along, but the boy said, "No." Thankfully, he went home and left me to my devices – and vices. Banana pudding is one of my favorite homemade desserts, and one of the first things I learned to cook by my grandmother’s side when I was young. Banana pudding is made with vanilla custard cooked over a stove, not banana Jell-O pudding. If this is all you’ve ever had, you’ve not had banana pudding.

Hmm, custard that goes in banana pudding is exactly like custard that goes in ice cream. I cracked open The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook in hopes of finding a banana pudding recipe, but there wasn’t one. There was a recipe for banana pudding ice cream, though. Sweet ice cream Jesus, my prayers have been answered.

This ice cream tastes exactly like homemade banana pudding, and the texture is perfect – perfect! – after a day in the freezer. I almost considered charging myself $5.89 per scoop, it was so good.

I added more vanilla wafers to the recipe, and think it could stand for even more, but I’ll print it as I made it. (The additional wafers are the only deviation from the original recipe.)

Banana Pudding Ice Cream
Makes about 1 quart
Adapted from The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook by Matt and Ted Lee

2 tablespoons unsalted butter
¼ cup packed dark brown sugar
2 ripe bananas, sliced in half crosswise and lengthwise
2 tablespoons dark rum
2 large egg yolks
⅓ cup sugar
1 ½ cups whole milk
2 cups heavy cream
14 2-inch vanilla wafers, coarsely chopped

• Melt butter in a skillet over medium-high heat until frothy. Add brown sugar and sauté the sugar until it bubbles, abut 1 ½ minutes. Add bananas, stir and turn in sugar for about 1 ½ minutes until softened.
• Pour rum over bananas in skillet, and let cook for a couple of minutes to burn off the alcohol (important, or else ice cream won’t freeze). Place contents of the skillet in a blender or processor.
• Beat the egg yolks with a whisk, then add the sugar and beat until the mixture is a light yellow color, about 1 ½ minutes.
• Warm the milk over medium heat in a saucepan, stirring occasionally, until a thermometer reads 150° (6-8 minutes). Pour ½ cup of the hot milk in the blender with the banana mixture, and puree for 1 minute.
• Add the remaining hot milk slowly to the egg mixture while whisking constantly. Pour this mixture back into the saucepan, and cook over low heat, stirring constantly until the thermometer reads 170° (8-10 minutes or until the mixture is thick enough to coat the spoon). Turn off the heat.
• Add the banana mixture to the custard and whisk for 1 ½ minutes. Let the custard cool to room temperature, then whisk in the cream.
• Refrigerate for 4 hours or until the custard is cold. (I skipped this part with no resulting problems.)
• Poor mixture into the ice cream maker and churn. A few minutes before the ice cream is done, add the cookie bits and churn for a few more minutes.
• Eat right away for instant, soft ice cream gratification. Freeze ice cream in the freezer to harden.

The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook

Yay! The Lee brother’s won two James Beard Awards (Cookbook of the Year, and Food of the Americas) for their cookbook, The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook: Stories and Recipes for Southerners and Would-be Southerners. I’m excited and proud because they’re from my home state, South Carolina, and I already own their glorious cookbook – plus, I adore cute men with receding hairlines.

What makes The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook so great are the personal stories, histories, and insights that come with each recipe. I grew up with these recipes, stories, and visits to some of the exact places mentioned in the cookbook, so I can attest that each recipe truly is Southern cooking – the way that real cooks from the South eat. There are a few modern twists to recipes, but they tell you up front about their reformulations.

This cookbook comes highly recommended by myself and the James Beard Foundation. If you want a cookbook on true Southern food, or are a collector and reader of cookbooks, the Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook is a must-have.

Favorite foods included in the book: boiled peanuts, hush puppies, pimento cheese, pickled peaches, red rice, squash casserole, hash and rice, benne wafers, and sweet potato pie.