Artichoke Phyllo Cups

The real estate market is strong this week. I showed 8 properties and closed on 1. The pipeline is strong. The phone rings with the steady rhythm of a business that has taken six years to build and refuses to slow down.

Sophia is studying with an intensity that would concern me if it were directed at anything other than science. She talked about it at dinner for twenty minutes and I understood approximately half of it but all of the joy behind it.

I thought about Baba this week. Not the grief — the grief is always there, a familiar companion now — but the man. The way he stood at the bakery counter with his arms crossed. The way he hummed Greek songs he never knew the words to. The way he loved us in silence, which was the loudest love I have ever known.

I made a spring lamb stew with artichokes and dill in an avgolemono sauce — earthy and bright, the artichokes adding nuttiness against the lemon. Sophia ate 1 servings and said nothing, which means it was good. Alexander ate 2 and asked for more. The pan was empty by nine. Empty pans are the highest form of flattery in this kitchen.

The weeks pass and I am learning that life at 48 is not what I expected at twenty-five. It is messier, harder, more beautiful. The moussaka is better because my hands have made it more times. The career is stronger because the failures taught me what the successes could not. And the love — the love I pour into every dish, every showing, every Sunday drive to Tarpon Springs — is bigger now because I have lost enough to know what it costs.

The lamb stew was for the soul, but these Artichoke Phyllo Cups are what I reach for when I want that same earthy, herby comfort in something I can pull together between a 6 o’clock call and the kids sitting down — the artichokes do the heavy lifting, and the phyllo crackles in a way that would have made Baba tap the counter in approval. I’ve made them on big weeks and quiet ones, but they taste best when the pipeline is strong and someone in this house has already set the table without being asked. Sophia ate three and said nothing. Alexander asked if there were more. The pan was, predictably, empty by nine.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 27 min | Servings: 6 (about 30 cups)

Ingredients

2 packages (1.9 oz each) frozen mini phyllo shells (15 shells each)
1 can (14 oz) artichoke hearts, drained and finely chopped
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh dill, chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley, for garnish

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Arrange the frozen phyllo shells in a single layer on an ungreased rimmed baking sheet — no need to thaw them first.
Make the filling. In a medium bowl, stir together the chopped artichoke hearts, mayonnaise, sour cream, Parmesan, feta, garlic, dill, lemon juice, black pepper, and red pepper flakes (if using) until fully combined.
Fill the shells. Using a small spoon or a piping bag, fill each phyllo shell with about 1 heaping teaspoon of the artichoke mixture, mounding it slightly above the rim.
Bake. Bake for 10—12 minutes, until the filling is heated through and the edges of the phyllo are golden and crisp. Watch the bottoms — they brown quickly on a dark pan.
Garnish and serve. Remove from the oven and let cool for 2 minutes. Scatter chopped parsley over the tops and serve warm. These are best eaten the day they’re made while the shells stay crisp.

Nutrition (per serving)

Artichoke Phyllo Cups — The Taste That Carried Baba With Me This Week