No. 2710

Cardoons with half-Glaze

Cardons a la Demi-glace

Remove the large strings from a head of cardoon; cut the tenderest parts into four-inch lengths and throw them at once into cold acidulated water, then plunge them into boiling water, also acidulated with citric acid or vinegar; blanch until the downy skin detaches, rubbing with a cloth and drain to plunge at once into an abundance of cold water. Pare the cardoon, suppressing the superficial threads, and range them in a saucepan lined with fat pork; cover with more pork and moisten with unskimmed broth (No. 194a) mixed with a little white wine; add the cut-up pulp of a lemon, salt and aromatics, cover the saucepan and finish cooking very slowly. At the last moment drain them on a tammy, then on a cloth and cut them up into even lengths to dress in a pyramid on a dish, covering over with a half-glaze sauce (No. 413) reduced with Madeira wine.

Cardoons may be covered with a veloute sauce (No. 415) or else a brown sauce (No. 414), having some poached marrow cut into large dice added.

← No. 2709 Kohl-Rabies, Stuffed Celery, Onions & Leeks No. 2711 Carrots, Colbert →

For the Modern Kitchen

A Ranhofer vegetable course that assumes a stocked professional kitchen: the cardoon itself is the obstacle now, not the technique. Everything hinges on keeping the cut stalks under acidulated water, since they oxidize to brown-black within minutes.

Finding cardoonsCardoon (Cynara cardunculus) is the thistle grown for its stalks rather than its flower buds. Look for it in Italian and Middle Eastern markets from late autumn through winter; a single head yields far less usable stalk than its size suggests, so expect a head to serve two or three as a course.
Acidulated water is not optionalCut stalks discolor almost immediately. Have a bowl of cold water with lemon juice or vinegar ready before the knife touches the plant, and acidulate the blanching water as well, exactly as written.
The downy skinThe blanching stage is only there to loosen the fuzzy outer membrane. Rub it off with a cloth while the pieces are hot, shock in cold water, then pull away the remaining coarse strings with a paring knife or peeler. Untrimmed cardoon is stringy no matter how long it cooks.
Fat porkThe lining and covering layer is sheets of fresh pork fatback or thinly sliced salt pork, used as a barrier so the stalks braise gently without scorching or drying. Blanched salt pork or sliced fresh fatback both work; the pork is not served.
Unskimmed brothNo. 194a is one of Ranhofer's broths, used here ungreased so the fat contributes to the braise. An unsalted chicken or veal stock with the fat left on, plus a splash of dry white wine, gives much the same result.
Aromatics and lemon pulp"Aromatics" is left unspecified; something like bay, thyme and a few peppercorns is the usual reading. The lemon pulp helps keep the cardoon pale and cuts the vegetable's bitterness.
Cooking time"Very slowly" means a bare simmer, covered; expect roughly 1 to 2 hours depending on the age of the stalks. Cardoon is done when a knife tip meets no resistance; underdone, it is fibrous and unpleasantly bitter.
The saucesDemi-glace (No. 413) reduced with Madeira is the intended finish. Velouté (No. 415) or the brown sauce (No. 414) with diced poached beef marrow are the given alternatives; if marrow is used, poach the dice in salted water for a minute or two only, until just set.
TammyA tammy is a fine woolen or cloth strainer. Draining on any clean cloth serves the purpose, which is simply to get the braising fat off before saucing.

A Little History

Cardoons were a standard winter vegetable in French and Italian cooking long before they became a curiosity: the stalks were often earthed up or wrapped to blanch them pale, in the same way as celery, and the plant was eaten around the Mediterranean from antiquity onward. Charles Ranhofer, chef at Delmonico's in New York, published The Epicurean in 1894 with a full complement of cardoon preparations, which tells you both that the vegetable was available to a fashionable American restaurant and that its labor-intensive trimming was no obstacle in a kitchen with a large brigade. The name comes through French cardon from Latin carduus, thistle, and the plant is the same species as the globe artichoke, differing only in which part has been bred up for the table. Its near-disappearance from English-speaking kitchens has less to do with taste than with the stringing and rubbing every head demands.