LANI'S FARM JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE

The farmers’ market has been a commonplace during my time in America. When I lived in Philadelphia a decade ago, I used to frequent Clark Park where Amish people would sell whoopee pies, relishes of a great many types, and acorn squash when the season was right. There is a farmers’ market I visit every Thursday here in New York. Located just near Columbia’s campus, there is a handful of stalls that have the seasonal basics and the regular items that one lusts for – moist cakes decorated with nuts and spices; boutique soda with old school flavours like maple cream and apple cinnamon; cheese, oh what cheese, from goat to blue to brie and back again past cheddar and gouda and everything in between; baked treats like focaccia with olives and tomatoes, small tarts with custard and fruit; cider that has beads of moisture on the side of the bottle looking like the gods have presented refreshment itself. The farmers’ market is a treat, a kind of fete for those of us who miss the dirt in this concrete city.

When I wander along here, seeing the hot air rise from the subway below, a million recipes come into my mind. Should I make herb barley soup with roasted heirloom carrots be they white, orange or purple? Should I make pasta with julienned zucchini, slivers of eggplant, a glug of olive oil? Should I splash out and break the tradition of not eating meat at home, buying a shoulder of pork to baste and roast with a love so tender that the mouth begins to water simply thinking of it? This is to say nothing of what happens when one starts to talk to the people here. You say that the pak choi today is particularly good? Maybe I can make a stir-fir with a sticky garlic sauce. The spaghetti squash has just been picked this morning? Maybe I can roast tomatoes and toss it with basil on top. And you think that this arugula is peppery and fresh, the last harvest before the snow? Well, maybe I can dress it with walnuts, balsamic vinegar and honey.

The stall I go to most often though is Lani’s Farm. Their produce, like every other place, is arranged simply on foldaway tables. They have a great selection of leafy greens, root vegetables and apples as well as a handful of jarred goods. What keeps me going back though is the monopoly they have on Jerusalem artichokes. The artichokes here are fresh and relatively inexpensive. These knobbly vegetables are worth the seasonal blues. They keep me happy when it seems like the winter has got me down and they are something I always look forward to. When I see them on a restaurant menu I always order them – pureed or creamed or made into a soup. Jerusalem artichokes are where my heart is at.

All we do on Thursdays is roast them in high heat (say 450 degrees) and sprinkle them with salt. The outer skin is golden, crisp and chewy, a kind of earthy caramel, and the inside is soft, moist and fluffy, a kind of wet chestnut. We eat them almost without fail every week and I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why they are not the most popular vegetable in the world. And, thanks to Lani’s Farm, I have them all winter.

Farmer's Market
Thursdays at Columbia University
Subway: 1 at 110th, 116th.