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Artichoke
Relish
With a bizarre history and generations
of farflung aficionados, there’s a lot
more to this southern staple
condiment than meets the eye.
By Katie McElveen
PHOTO BY KATIE McELVEEN
Artichoke relish jars line the shelves at the Farmer’s Shed in Lexington. Facing page: springtime artichoke plant blossoms; Steve
Dowdney processing relish at Rockland Plantation.
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ith more varieties than
barbecue and pimiento
cheese and a main ingredient with a terribly inaccurate
name, Jerusalem artichoke relish
sparks a bit of controversy among
cooks and food historians alike.
Like the peanut, which is neither
a pea nor a nut, the Jerusalem artichoke isn’t from Jerusalem and
isn’t an artichoke. The botanical
name is Helianthus tuberosus,
meaning it’s related to the sunflower and is a root. Although more
popular in Europe than the United
States, Jerusalem artichokes are
indigenous to North America,
where they were cultivated along
the East Coast by Indians and
probably spotted by Sir Walter Raleigh. Most historians agree Jerusalem artichokes were brought to
Europe by French explorer Samuel
de Champlain, who discovered
what were then called sun roots
growing in an Indian garden on
Cape Cod in 1605. He thought they
tasted like artichokes.
After that, the record gets a
little muddy. The most widely regarded theory is that Champlain
was so impressed that he brought
it to Europe, where it became
something of a sensation in Italy,
England and Germany. To that
end, some historians believe
Jerusalem is a mispronunciation
of the Italian word for sunflower,
girasole. Others believe Jerusalem
artichokes came to Europe via the
Netherlands and Jerusalem is a
corruption of Ter Neusen, the area
there where it was grown.
The first “official” mention of
Jerusalem artichokes in the
United States was in 1796, when
Amelia Simmons included a reference to them in American Cookery,
the first American-written cookbook published in America. Alas,
the short mention—“Artichokes,
the Jerusalem is best, are cultivated like potatoes . . . may be pickled”—was not included in the
book’s second edition.
Sandlapper
PHOTO BY ROBERT P. WILKINS
By the 1900s, artichoke relish had become a popular condiment in South Carolina. Many remember it as a staple in their
households, with recipes handed
down through generations.
Gertrude Sassard, whose family
sells artichoke relish in Mt. Pleasant, recalls smilingly, “My motherin-law, Edna Sassard, started this
business in 1917, using recipes
that had come from her mother. Artichoke relish is something we all
grew up with.”
Mrs. Sassard’s Products makes
and sells more than 1,000 cases of
artichoke relish each season, and
the family still eats it regularly.
“We mix it with cole slaw and potato salad and we just love it in
tuna salad,” Gertrude says. “One of
my sons, when he was still in the
lower grades, took a jar to school
with him on the days they were
serving beans. He just couldn’t
imagine eating them without it!”
Writers Matthew and Ted
Lee, Charleston natives whose
online food emporium boiled
peanuts.com sells Mrs. Sassard’s
relish, are artichoke relish aficionados. “We have memories of eating it on hot dogs at Pitt Street Pharmacy in Mt. Pleasant,” recalls Matthew, who also recalls riding his
bike past the Sassard home and
shop on Church Street and smelling cider vinegar. “You knew they
were making it just by the smell.”
In addition to artichokes, that
cider vinegar is probably the only
other ingredient common to all ar-
Winter 2003-04
PHOTO COURTESY ROCKLAND PLANTATION
tichoke relish recipes. The
Sassard’s relish includes cabbage
with the artichokes, while an early
edition of Charleston Receipts suggests cauliflower. Steve Dowdney,
who sells more than 600 jars of his
Rockland Plantation artichoke relish each month, uses neither, adding bell peppers and onions.
Lexington’s Rose Wilkins uses cabbage and bell peppers in her famous mix; her friend Sammy
George is a purist who uses nothing but artichokes.
Some recipes call for brown
sugar, others white. While most
use mustard, there’s discussion
about whether dry or prepared
makes a better relish. About half
of the Jerusalem artichoke recipes
include flour, which produces a
more opaque product. Others result in a finished product with a
clearer sauce.
D
eciding on a recipe is easy,
compared to actually making the relish. In fact, the
Jerusalem artichoke’s reputation
as a tough customer has spawned
almost as many methods for preparing it as there are recipes. The
tubers used in the relish are roots
and, accordingly, must be dug out
of the ground—preferably, tradition has it, after the first frost. The
nooks and crannies of the gnarled
roots are so good at hiding dirt and
grit that cooks preparing Jerusalem artichokes for relish have been
known to use everything from a
pressure hose to a washing machine to get them clean. (Just be
careful where you throw the
smaller pieces, cautions Wilkins,
who threw her scraps onto a garden plot and the next year ended
up with a crop of her own!)
Once cleaned, the roots must
be peeled and chopped. Most cooks
use a food processor; those who
prefer a chunkier texture must
dice by hand. After that, there’s a
24-hour brine soak before the relish can be prepared.
For some artichoke relish lovers, creating the delicacy is a labor of love. For those less inclined
to practice this time-honored tradition, treasure those jars of homemade artichoke relish you receive
at Christmas. You are mighty special to someone.
Columbia recipe sleuth Katie
McElveen contributes frequently
to Sandlapper.
ARTICHOKE RELISH
3 quarts artichokes (Jerusalem)
1 quart onions
6 green peppers
3 pounds cabbage
½ gallon white cider vinegar
3 pounds sugar
1 tablespoon turmeric
3 tablespoons white mustard seed
3 tablespoons white celery seed
1 small jar mustard
1 tablespoon black pepper
Cut vegetables in small pieces. (I use a
processor; be careful not to pulverize the
veggies and get “mush.”) Soak chopped
vegetables in 2 cups salt and 1 gallon
water overnight. Next morning, make
a paste of ¾ cup plain flour and the
small jar of prepared mustard mixed
with ¼ cup cold water. Mix spices, vinegar and sugar in a large container. Let
this come to a boil and add soaked vegetables. (Vegetables should have been
drained thoroughly of soaking liquid in
a colander.) Let this mixture come to a
boil, add mustard and flour mixture
immediately. Cook 10 minutes longer.
Put in sterile jars. Makes 12 pints.
Family note: This was my Grandmother Rosa Goodale’s recipe. She got
it from our next-door neighbor in Camden, Nell Smith. It has now become my
claim to fame; I make it for Christmas
gifts.—Rose T. Wilkins
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