I’m not sure why, but I kept putting this recipe off. I love artichokes. I picked this recipe to help convince Tabitha she should try them. But week after week they made my list of things to make, but I never made them.
I was first introduced to artichokes when I was 16. One of my friends and I had a brilliant idea to have a medieval feast, and well, when my friend put her mind to something, things happened. We decorated her finished attic, made medieval dresses, and she and her mom prepared a feast for kings (or rather, princesses). One of our appetizers was artichokes. Until then, I had only ever had them marinated or thrown into a spinach dip… in other words, I’d never really tasted a pure artichoke. She served them simply, with salted clarified butter, very similarly to how one would serve lobster (mhmm, lobster). I thought I’d gone to heaven. One bite of that succulent, butter-dipped, silky plant-flesh had me converted to an artichoke fan. I haven’t liked canned artichokes since. The canning process completely robs the artichoke of its umph. The texture completely changes and you are left with a limp, woody mass that squeaks as you bite into it. Eww. Give me fresh artichokes or give me none! (I know, I know, that saying isn’t quite the same without ending in death, but I don’t think I would die without artichokes. I’m much more likely to put my life on the line for people or liberty than a particular type of food.)