IN THE KITCHEN : Battle in a Bowl

There are dishes you love to talk about, and then there are dishes you would just as soon forget. Sometimes, though, you can learn more from the latter than the former.

A case in point is an artichoke risotto I made recently. It seemed like a good idea at the time: I made it in the same way I always do but added some finely chopped green garlic and mint at the end.

That may not sound like a recipe for disaster, but it was.

Maybe I’m being a little over-dramatic, but if that had been the only artichoke risotto I’d ever eaten, I might never care to eat another. The thing was a weird-tasting mess with the jarring notes of fresh herbs leaving an overall impression of some kind of Cantonese jook gone badly awry.

What happened? How could a dish I have made so many times in the past turn so suddenly and inextricably wrong?

I’d begun in the normal way: sauteing garlic and artichokes in a little olive oil. Since I was cooking at a friend’s house and couldn’t find another broad, deep pan, I used a cast-iron frying pan. After I added the rice, I poured in a little white wine to finish the flavoring process--the way I usually do when I’m sauteing vegetables. Then I finished the dish with the fresh herbs.

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So what could be so bad?

The first thing that occurred to me was that it might have been some kind of interaction between the artichokes and the cast-iron pan. Cast iron is prone to such misalliances, and many acidic ingredients react badly with it. (When a recipe says to use a non-reactive pan, unlined cast iron or aluminum are usually what it’s warning against.) Artichokes may not seem so, but they are highly acidic--particularly in an organic acid called cynarin (from cynara , Latin for artichoke).

To test that hypothesis, I fried some chopped artichokes in a bit of olive oil in an unlined cast-iron pan and some in a stainless-steel pan. There was no difference, which blew that theory out of the water (though it did provide some absolutely delicious little snacks).

Then it hit me: Maybe it was the wine. One of the odd properties of cynarin is that it changes the chemistry of the mouth, adding a kind of artificial sweetness to everything you taste. That’s why you shouldn’t serve artichokes alongside good wine. So I went back through a dozen or so Italian cookbooks, scanning 20 to 30 artichoke recipes. Only once or twice were artichokes ever cooked with wine (rarely enough that it made me wonder about the recipes in which they were).

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That, then, would account for the weird base flavor. But what about the tangle of green garlic and mint? I still think my reasoning was sound: Garlic and mint are frequently paired with artichokes, most notably in the famous carciofi alla Romana --one of the signature springtime dishes of that city. So they should go well with artichokes in another setting, right?

What I ignored was the simplicity that is so vital to a dish like risotto. It is one of those things that should taste of itself. An artichoke risotto should taste like artichokes, an asparagus risotto like asparagus. Maybe it’s not so much simplicity as elegance. If there are other flavors in the dish, they should point up the main ingredient rather than fight with it.

So important is this light hand that risotto is best made with a diluted stock. A full-strength broth would overpower the artichokes (in the recipe below, for example, mix one can of chicken stock with enough water to make the six cups of broth necessary).

What we had in that risotto was a war in a bowl. Compare that to this version, an old favorite that to me is the creamy quintessence of artichoke. Here, every ingredient is there only to heighten the artichoke flavor--the garlic adds sweetness, the olive oil fruitiness, the rice and stock are the neutral medium, and the Parmigiano gives its own particular sharp nuttiness that emphasizes those aspects of the artichoke’s own flavor.

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One of the neatest things about this recipe is the technique for cleaning the artichokes. I picked this up from a New Orleans chef (which one, I can’t remember) who used it when cleaning the case after case of artichokes that go into a Creole brunch. Once you get it down, you can have artichoke hearts ready for cooking in less than a minute.

ARTICHOKE RISOTTO 4 artichokes Juice 1 lemon 2 tablespoons olive oil 2 cloves garlic, minced 1 1/2 cups arborio rice 1 quart light chicken stock, boiling 1/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese Salt Freshly ground pepper

Trim artichokes by pulling off any leaves clinging to stem and 2 outer rows of leaves around base. Holding artichoke in 1 hand and sharp paring knife in other, turn artichoke against knife, trimming away outer leaves from base, holding knife parallel to stem. When outer leaves have been trimmed to where pale green to yellow base shows, lay artichoke on side and cut away top of leaves, roughly where leaves swell out. With sharp paring knife, peel dark-green skin of artichoke from base to stem, exposing light-green flesh. Set artichoke heart upside down on flat cap and cut in quarters lengthwise. Trim away hairy chokes. Cut stems in 1/4-inch pieces and cut bases in 4 or 5 pieces.

Set cleaned and chopped artichokes in pan filled with water and juice of 1 lemon and repeat procedure with other artichokes.

Once all artichokes are trimmed, combine oil, artichokes and garlic in cold broad, heavy-bottomed, high-sided, non-reactive skillet (classic saute pan is best). Place pan over medium heat and cook until garlic is translucent. Do not let garlic brown. Add rice and stir with wooden spoon until rice becomes opaque and shiny and you hear dry “singing” sound of rice against side of pan.

Add 1 cup boiling stock to pan and stir with wooden spoon. There will be much bubbling and hissing. Cook, stirring constantly, until rice is almost dry. You should be able to see bottom of pan without liquid when you stir. Add another cup of boiling stock and repeat procedure until rice swells and softens. Risotto should be very creamy but just short of soupy, and individual grains should have distinct bite.

Remove risotto from heat and add Parmigiano-Reggiano. Stir briskly and forcefully to increase creaminess. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Makes 6 servings.

Each serving contains about: 279 calories; 767 mg sodium; 3 mg cholesterol; 7 grams fat; 46 grams carbohydrates; 9 grams protein; 0.9 gram fiber.