We never thought about them. All winter, those pounds of Jerusalem Artichokes slept snugly underground just where they had grown the summer before, slowly expanding into the knobby whitish tubers I finally dug up a few weeks back. Even if this hadn’t been an unseasonably warm spring, we would have had to deal with them soon. Each of the probably 100 or more I harvested would have sprouted and grown into a new plant, each vying for space in a small bed that would have become so crowded none would have grown well. Even if I’d only dug them up and thrown them away, I would have had to do something with them. Clever, the idea of pickling them. What a good way to use many at once.
We imagined the job would be worse than it really was and had been putting it off for some time. Digging the tubers was actually fun, like searching for buried treasure. I plunged my garden fork into the ground and turned over the soil and as if by a miracle, the artichokes appeared. Sometimes I unearthed a mass of ‘chokes all at the same time, some as big as four or five inches from end to end and two to three inches across, as big or bigger than any I’ve ever seen in a store or market. They look a little like the raw ginger you buy in the store, though much knobbier and wrinkled, not smooth, and whitish.
I soon filled a bucket with seven or eight pounds of the things which I took to the utility sink in our laundry room to wash the soil off each tuber. Then to the kitchen for the worst part: cutting off unusable bits from every single artichoke and scrubbing each one to remove the rest of the dirt from the cracks and crevices. I like but don’t love Jerusalem Artichokes. They have a pleasant nutty crispiness and are good raw (they taste and feel like turnip) or cooked like hash browns. I think they are even healthy. It’s just the challenge of cleaning the knobby things that keeps us from thinking, regularly, “Hey, let’s pop out to the garden and gather a few Jerusalem Artichokes.”
We put the cleaned and sliced tubers in brine where they luxuriated for a day. We used two different recipes, one with turmeric and one without. The turmeric brine-soaked ‘chokes will end up being a sweet, bread-and-butter type of pickle. The other will be a tangy, garlicky, ginger flavor.
The next night we cooked the pickling mixture. Have you ever smelled cooking vinegar? The pungent aroma can penetrate the stuffiest nose and filled our apartment with a sour coziness. Throwing in spices, garlic, ginger and hot pepper made the witch’s brew almost dangerous. We dared to sample the concoction which tasted good though it made us wink. After draining and rinsing the chokes, then pouring the mixtures over each, we put the two gallon jars in the fridge and waited. After a week, they tasted good. After two weeks, really good. After three weeks we shared a pint jar of each with one of our sons and his wife, experts in the art of fermentation. They were impressed. Delicious! Why hadn’t anyone thought of this, they asked? What a great idea! These would really sell.
Next time you drop by (and please let it be soon), slip into the kitchen, open the fridge and sneak a couple of Jerusalem Artichoke pickles. You’ll be surprised how crisp and savory-tart they are.
