This 5-Minute Canned Artichoke Hearts Recipe Will Change Everything

If you're the kind of person who turns their nose up at canned artichoke hearts, you need to know something about me. Here's a promise: I will never clean (or butcher, or dismantle, or whatever the hell you call this impossible process) a fresh artichoke in the kitchen. I won’t do it. Absolutely not. It’s the most nonsensical waste of time and utter disregard for the general well-being of your fingers. Fresh artichokes can go kick rocks, and that’s being said by me, someone who likes to eat artichokes. I really do, especially when I'm either a) at a restaurant and someone went through the trouble of processing the damn things for me or b) at home, eating canned artichoke hearts that have been chopped up with a bunch of herbs, drowned in olive oil, and scattered liberally on top of grilled fish.

This artichoke heart tapenade is a year-round staple for me. I call it artichoke tapenade because it sounds fancy, but really, it’s like an artichoke vinaigrette or marinated artichoke hearts or something that doesn’t really need or deserve a name. It’s a condiment that transcends naming convention. You could also just call it delicious.

This simple canned artichoke tapenade makes pany old piece of fish look preeeeeetty special, if you ask us.

basically-canned-artichoke-tapenade-chicken.jpg

This simple canned artichoke tapenade makes pany old piece of fish look preeeeeetty special, if you ask us.

But back to the artichokes. Leave the fresh ones at the store. I beg you. Listen: Your time is more valuable than that (there’s a formidable amount of Game of Thrones message boards to read before next season starts). Take a trip to the grocery store and you'll find an old friend hanging out near the pasta or the canned tomatoes or maybe the beans. Canned artichoke hearts. Yes, it’s a canned vegetable. Yes, it’s still good. And yes, it’s the base of our no-brainer protein topper.

Drain two cans of artichokes (just the plain guys, nothing marinated), and chop them into small pieces. The exact size isn’t important here, you just want to make sure you’re not getting big pieces of the leaves or chunks of the heart. You can go for a finer or chunkier texture based on how you’re feeling, what your horoscope told you, or what your doctor thinks is best for you in the long-term. This is the most involved part of this recipe, and the fact that you still need to do all of this chopping further validates my disgust for prepping fresh artichokes.

So, you have your chopped artichokes in a bowl. Time to add some acid and some fat. Slice a lemon in half and squeeze the juice from both halves over the artichokes (making sure to catch any falling seeds). Add a healthy amount (and by healthy, I mean substantial) of olive oil to the artichokes and lemon juice. The artichokes should be bathing in olive oil.

Mixing this thing right into pasta is as easy as it gets. Tasty too.

basically-canned-artichoke-tapenade-pasta.jpg

Mixing this thing right into pasta is as easy as it gets. Tasty too.

Roughly chop the leaves and tender stems from basil and parsley, and add them to the bowl of chokes. Season the whole thing with kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, and let this thing do what it was born to do. Throw it on top of grilled fish, roasted chicken, seared scallops, or pork chops. Mix it into steamed rice, throw it on scrambled eggs, or use it as a quick, no-cook pasta sauce. It can quite literally do everything.

Would this tapenade taste better with fresh artichokes? I honestly have no idea. Maybe, but like I said, I have no interest in finding out. Canned artichokes do the job just fine, and as a result, this whole thing takes about five minutes to make. And now I’ll make you another promise. That’s the most valuable five minutes you’ll spend all week.

Oh yeah, it's pretty damn good on a chicken cutlet, too: