Jerusalem Artichoke Soup: Bonnie Stern’s Heartsmart Cooking

When I discovered Jerusalem Artichokes I didn’t know quite what to do with them. First I didn’t know what they tasted like, or what went well with them. It turns out they’re nutty, sweet and earthy. Something to be tried, not just described.

They look like dirty, knobby pieces of ginger root. They’re nothing like artichokes, and they’re not even from Jerusalem. Go figure. They’re also called sunchokes, which makes a bit more sense. For people into etymology, apparently the name ‘Jerusalem’ may have come from a bastardization of the Italian word for sunflower, ‘girisole’, since the vegetable is actually related to the sunflower, not the artichoke. It would take someone with extremely poor hearing to mess up ‘girisole’ (pronounced gee’ ree’ ZO’ leh’) with Jerusalem, though, so I’m not convinced. Like celeriac, they make a great substitute for mashed potatoes when you start to notice that you’re adding way too much butter or seasoning to your potatoes because you’re sick of the potatoes themselves.

The only problem is they’re really, really annoying to clean. When Bonnie Stern’s HeartSmart: The Best of HeartSmart Cooking said to first scrub or peel the artichokes, I didn’t really understand. Wouldn’t leaving the skin on the artichokes and then puréeing the soup give you skin bits in the final soup, instead of a creamy, smooth texture? I figured maybe she meant that you could peel the parts that would peel easily, and just scrub the hard-to-reach areas (If you’ve ever peeled fresh ginger root, just imagine peeling 2lbs of it, and you’ll understand why I wanted to not peel all of the nooks and crannies of the artichokes). Unfortunately, I should have kept peeling, because after scrubbing and peeling for maybe 45 minutes I still ended up with a puréed soup with tough skin bits. Not like the first time I made it, when I actually peeled every little knob, but still delicious. Really, you should just keep peeling. Make this on a Sunday with a friend, like you would jams, or pickles, or Christmas cookies, or truffles, or ravioli.

I made this soup for the first time a year ago and reveled in the wonders of girisoli. How had they evaded me for so long? Well they’re not that available, and unless you have a good source for them, they can be expensive. This year I lucked out and ended up with exactly 2lbs of them, just what I needed for this soup, about which I had dreamed for a year. Well actually I ended up with 2 1/2 lbs of them, but I knew that once they were peeled there would only be about 2 left (They don’t all look like pieces of ginger. Some of them are small, like quail eggs, and peeling them doesn’t leave a lot of artichoke left over).

There’s a reason you don’t see them so often in restaurants. Can you imagine being the guy who peels 20 lbs of jerusalem artichokes? It took me 45 minutes to do 2 lbs, for a soup that serves 9 or 10. That’s about 7 hours of peeling artichokes to make a restaurant-sized pot of soup…that poor, poor prep cook. Potatoes can be done a whole lot faster, and don’t cost as much. So if you’re going to substitute something for potato, you substitute celeriac (also easy to peel), or parsnip, or a turnip/potato combination. I’d love to try Jerusalem Artichokes at a good restaurant, though, just to see what they do with them. It could be really surprising.

Olive oil
Onions
Garlic
2 lbs Jerusalem Artichokes, peeled and sliced (scrub to knock off big pieces of dirt, but do peel them. All of them. Be patient.)
vegetable stock or water (You can actually get away with using just water in this recipe. Stock is better, but the flavour of the artichokes is strong enough on its own as long as you add enough of the other ingredients, especially lemon juice and garlic)
Saffron threads (I forgot to crush them…that might have helped a little, especially if I’d been brave enough to use less stock and more water)
salt and pepper to taste
lemon juice
3 tbsp almonds
3 tbsp water

This is so simple. Sauté the garlic and onions for 5 minutes or so (they shouldn’t brown, so if they start to brown add water. This is what Bonnie says, not just me being finicky about not using too much olive oil).

Add the sliced and peeled artichokes, and cook for 3 minutes before adding the broth to cover. The broth amount is an estimate. All the artichokes should be covered by about a 1/2″-1″ of broth, depending on how thick you like your soup. You can always add more water after the puréeing stage, or you can boil some extra liquid off. You’ll be fine. Don’t worry.

Bring the stock to a boil and add the spices (salt and pepper a little to taste. The salt amount will depend on the broth you used, so don’t just throw in a bunch without tasting it first).

Reduce the heat and simmer for 30 minutes, or until the jerusalem artichokes are tender. This will depend on the size of your slices. They need to purée smoothly.

Purée the soup in batches, or with a hand blender and return it to the pot. If the soup is too watery, now’s the chance to boil off some liquid. You don’t want to boil it again after you’ve added the lemon juice.

Add a little lemon juice and taste to see how much you need. The recipe says a tablespoon but I needed more. Almost 2 and a half, actually. You definitely don’t want to go overboard with the lemon, though, and it’s hard to get rid of the flavour if you’ve added too much, so be careful and test it after each small addition (maybe a tsp. at a time). Add more water now if it’s too thick.

Now the cool part: Blend equal parts blanched, sliced almonds and water (no need to clean the blender before this step). Then pour the mixture into the soup. In raw food this is pretty standard (making cream out of nuts, though it’s probably done with a very different process). The natural nutty flavour of the jerusalem artichokes matches well with the almonds, and the nuts make this a much more satisfying soup. A meal soup, instead of a beggar’s snack of diluted, seasoned Jerusalem Artichokes.

For an elaborate presentation, serve the soup into bowls before you add the almond cream, and drizzle it on the soup like a crème fraiche, to give a marble swirl.