Globe artichokes, Chuck Berry, saving a few quid and vignorola
Abundance: Monday 3 June 2024
He was found on the third stair of the council house where he’d spent the second half of his life and I the first third of mine. Had his beloved cat brushed past in search of a tea yet to be put out, it might’ve been enough to take him over the tipping point at which he would’ve pitched forward onto his nose, not that it would’ve hurt; it was too late for that.
That cool late May day falls in spring, while his birthday almost three weeks later is very definitely summer, and somewhere between these anniversaries, I make vignorola. I don’t make it for him - a delicate Roman stew of the best of the changing seasons might be as far from his ideal supper as a skip is from a raspberry - but one way or another, he often appears at my shoulder when I’m making it.
A quarter of a century gone, I might be feeling a little guilty - as I am this week - at not yet placing pointless flowers on his grave while not quite being able to stop myself having a pointless conversation with someone who isn’t there, and mostly never really quite was. As I pod the beans, I almost always smile that the potent combination of cigarettes and unhappiness took him before I’d solved the riddle of what I might get him for his 65th. A few quid saved; he’d have liked that.
I only make vignorola in this season-switching window: towards the end of the asparagus, the first broad beans and peas, the smallest of artichokes, mint and chives from cutting back of the herbs before they get too leggy, and the pleasure of spring onions doubled if I’ve remembered to sow them for an early return.
Today, I make it while listening to Chuck Berry’s Nadine, which no matter how many times he played it, he couldn’t help himself saying ‘listen to those saxophones son, aren’t they great’, and every time they were.
Vignarola
I make this differently every time, using the proportions below. This year, peas are behind thanks to the lack of sunshine, so I used frozen - 250g - as I wanted to make this before mid June approached.
The difference between good and exceptional is made as much as anything by cooking each vegetable for just long enough to be perfect; the asparagus should retain resistance and taste slightly of unsalted peanuts, and so on.
By all means, choose different herbs - I choose mint, parsley and chives as (along with the lemon) they keep everything bright and clear, but lovage, basil and so on work differently well.
Preparing the artichokes is simple, though do clear the table head: preparing or eating glove artichokes is one of the few times you end up with more than you started with. Slice off the top third and stem, pull the tough outer leaves off and trim the stub of the stem to remove the rough outer. Slice lengthways in half and drop into cold water acidulated with the lemon juice, to prevent the artichokes discolouring.
Serves 4
8-12 small artichokes
juice of 1 lemon, finely grated zest of half the lemon
8 spring onions
2 wet garlic heads, or 2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
600g broad beans weighed in their pods, beans only
600g peas weighed in their pods, peas only
250g asparagus, tough base discarded, chopped roughly
4 tbsp olive oil, plus a little to finish
salt and pepper
220ml white wine or cider
a small handful of mint, chopped
a small handful of parsley, finely chopped
a small handful of chives plus a couple of chive flowers if you have them
Heat the olive oil in a pan and cook the spring onions and wet garlic over a moderate heat, stirring frequently, until soft. Add the wine and an equivalent amount of water1.
Bring to a simmer and add the artichoke halves, and season well. Cover and cook for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Test the artichokes for tenderness - allowing a little longer if needed. Add the broad beans and asparagus and cook for another couple of minutes with the lid on, then add the peas, cooking for just another two minutes. Season to taste.
Ladle into bowls, sprinkle with lemon zest. Serve warm, scattered with mint and parsley and drizzled lightly with olive oil, with Chuck Berry on in the background.
Don’t be tempted to add more; the vegetables should be sat not entirely in the liquid rather than swimming.
Gruff voiceover courtesy of a three interview evening last night and an early start today
Just great writing .
A beautiful post, Mark. I’ve listened to and re-read the first paragraph a few times, feeling like I want to laugh and cry in equal measure.
This stew is very different to where I come from (more affectionately named ‘Scouse’) but looks delicious all the same. Will definitely be adding this to the cook list!