Artichoke season!

Comment ca se mange, un artichaut?

Quite a common question for anyone who has never eaten an artichoke before; It is quite a daunting little vegetable. Do you eat the whole thing? Do you take off the leaves? Which part is edible?  Where do you begin?  The questions go on forever. Due to the intimidating form and shape, I always passed up the fresh archichokes for canned or pre-marinated hearts.

The first fresh artichoke I actually ate was during my junior year of college when my roommate suggested we buy artichokes because were on sale (in Colorado, one dollar an artichoke is cheap and quite a rare occurrence). I had never eaten a whole, fresh (not canned, jarred or frozen) artichoke before, but unwilling to compromise my foodie pride, I acted like I knew exactly how to eat and cook this strange plant. Lucky for me, my roommate took care of the preparation. My only job was to eat the green thistle set on the plate before me.

I stared at the archichoke for a moment.  Where do I begin?  I glanced up discretely at my roommate and her boyfriend who were “eating” the leaves of the artichoke.  Following their example, I pulled a leaf off, dipped it in the prepared sauce and put it in my mouth. I chewed and I chewed and I chewed some more. It was fibrous and tough. After maching the leave into a somewhat manageable pulp, I swallowed. That was an effort. I pulled off the next leaf and reluctantly put it in my mouth. Chew, mache, chew.  And once again, with a little hesitation, swallow.  Two leaves down, and a whole artichoke to go.  This was going to take a while.  Were the fiborous, green bracts I had been eating even going to be able to pass through my digestive system?  After eating a few more whole leaves, I was getting distressed.  How was I possibly going to finish eating all the leaves?  It was likely to be a disheartening experience.

Then, I noticed the growing pile of discarded artichoke leaves on the plates of my roommate and her boyfriend.  They, in turn noticed the lack of discarded leaves on my plate.  “Did you eat the whole leaf?” my roommate asked.  I hesitated a moment.  I could lie, make up some irrational excuse (i.e. “the dog ate my bracts” (no, we didn’t have a dog) or “I just added my pile to your pile” or “it was so good, I couldn’t resist”).  Unfortunately, I don’t think that fast on my feet.  I had to tell the truth.  I chewed, mashed and swallowed entire artichoke leaves. Yes, I admit it now – my virgin artichoke experience was quite embarassing.   Now, just imagine how awkward it would have been if I had tried to eat the choke.

My roommate patiently showed me how to pull off the fleshy part of each leaf.  My whole perception of the artichoke changed.  Why had I never eaten a fresh artichoke before?  When I had eaten all the green leaves, I  arrived at what is known as the “choke.”  It was like hair and did not look too terribly appetizing.  I examined the choke a little and was yet again perplexed.  Now, how do you eat this?  It was pokey and coarse.  I was beginning to devise a method of eating this part of the artichoke when my roommate grabbed what was left of my thistle and spooned out the fuzz.  “You don’t eat that?” I asked.  “Of course not,” she responded. “That’s the choke.  You would choke if you ate it.”  Needless to say, I was a bit relieved.

Before me, only the heart remained – the only entirely edible part of the artichoke.  I ate it in small pieces in order to savour each bite and take pride in the fact that I reached the heart.  And the heart, my dears, was well worth all the bract maching and choke scooping.

Artichoke season is a wonderful season – the beautiful green and slighly purlish thistles lined up neatly in the product section of the grocer and the sound of squeaky leaves.  I love artichokes now.  After my first experience, I have since eaten many more.  All you need is a little patience and a friend who knows the way to the heart.