Artichoke heart
Today, a post about artichokes. I'm gonna see how much mileage I can get out of them. I love them. I love pulling off the leaves and dipping them in yummy things like butter or olive oil. I love that more than the heart.
I had one for dinner, and as do many things in my life, it conjured up a lot of memories. Mostly of being in Bologna during artichoke season, circa 2002. In a nod towards civilization, Italians mostly eat what's in season. One day I went to the local frutti and there was no broccoli. How great is that? Because it wasn't in season! It was beautiful. And then the artichokes came in luscious, cheap droves.
One day of PPP* was Artichoke Day. I can't remember the fruit of the day, maybe bananas? Anyway, we (Bee & I) went to Elisa's room at the Residence Galaxy (a dorm/hotel) (real name) and cooked a boatload of artichokes for dinner. I think we may have also eaten them for lunch. There may have been some tofu involved, but basically I think we ate 2 small chokes apiece. Maybe more. I came close to ODing.
Now, when I taste them, I imagine a bus ride out of the old city walls, a labyrinth of hallways, thin walls and huge windows, and dinner around her tiny table. Maybe it was that night, maybe another night, when we went to the roof, crawled under the fence to get to the edge, and sat under the stars drinking wine and eating chocolate. If I give the story the mythical quality it seems to be asking for, we can throw in the long walk home to via Orfeo, the smell of baking bread at 3 am causing unprecedented amounts of drool, and the musical accompaniment of Stars Go Blue.
This is what happens when I have an artichoke for dinner.
*Inside joke. No explanation possible, rational, or forthcoming.
I had one for dinner, and as do many things in my life, it conjured up a lot of memories. Mostly of being in Bologna during artichoke season, circa 2002. In a nod towards civilization, Italians mostly eat what's in season. One day I went to the local frutti and there was no broccoli. How great is that? Because it wasn't in season! It was beautiful. And then the artichokes came in luscious, cheap droves.
One day of PPP* was Artichoke Day. I can't remember the fruit of the day, maybe bananas? Anyway, we (Bee & I) went to Elisa's room at the Residence Galaxy (a dorm/hotel) (real name) and cooked a boatload of artichokes for dinner. I think we may have also eaten them for lunch. There may have been some tofu involved, but basically I think we ate 2 small chokes apiece. Maybe more. I came close to ODing.
Now, when I taste them, I imagine a bus ride out of the old city walls, a labyrinth of hallways, thin walls and huge windows, and dinner around her tiny table. Maybe it was that night, maybe another night, when we went to the roof, crawled under the fence to get to the edge, and sat under the stars drinking wine and eating chocolate. If I give the story the mythical quality it seems to be asking for, we can throw in the long walk home to via Orfeo, the smell of baking bread at 3 am causing unprecedented amounts of drool, and the musical accompaniment of Stars Go Blue.
This is what happens when I have an artichoke for dinner.
*Inside joke. No explanation possible, rational, or forthcoming.
posted by Jess at 10:15 PM
1 Comments:
Yum to the artichokes. They remind me of the years my family lived in California and grew seasonal fruits and vegetables in our garden. Here on the east coast seasonal is fairly limited. Or imported at the cost of quality throughtout the year. So it goes.
And thanks for stopping by my blog and my mother is a librarian. Just facts.
Happy Friday...
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