A culinary delight consumed for centuries
May 28, 2024
When I think about improbable foods, the artichoke is at the top of my list. Afterall, who would have looked at this thistle and thought, “I wonder if I can eat that without poking holes in my mouth?”
Yet, artichokes have been grown and cultivated since at least the eighth century BC.
The Infallible Wikipedia helpfully tells us:
“The (globe) artichoke is a domesticated variety of the wild cardoon (Cynara cardunculus), which is native to the Mediterranean area. There was debate over whether the artichoke was a food among the ancient Greeks and Romans, or whether that cultivar was developed later, with Classical sources referring instead to the wild cardoon. The cardoon is mentioned as a garden plant in the eighth century BCE by Homer and Hesiod.”
Based on further information in the Infallible Wikipedia, I came to the conclusion that the plant was, for centuries, considered a luxury food for royalty and the wealthy. It also developed a reputation as having aphrodisiac qualities.
It was the Dutch who brought them to England where they were successfully grown in Henry VIII’s palace garden in 1530. In the 19th century, immigrants transported the plant to the new world: Louisiana by the French and California by the Spanish.
Despite Henry VIII’s garden, until recently, the artichoke has only been successfully grown in warmer climates. If you look at a latitude map of the world which shows the areas where they cultivated, most are found in about a 350 mile wide band between the 30th and 37th parallels both north and south. Heartier varieties of the plant are being developed with promise of being able to be grown in northern climates.
Also from the Infallible Wikipedia:
“Cultivation of the globe artichoke is concentrated in the Americas and the countries bordering the Mediterranean basin. The main European producers are Italy, Spain, and France and the main American producers are Argentina, Peru and the United States. In the United States, California provides nearly 100% of the U.S. crop, with about 80% of that being grown in Monterey County; there, Castroville proclaims itself to be “The Artichoke Center of the World” and holds the annual Castroville Artichoke Festival.”
I’m making a mental note to take in the Artichoke Festival which, apparently, is held the second weekend in June each year. This makes sense since artichoke ‘season’ is from March until June.
My first memory of artichokes is from when I was about six years old. One night when the family (Two parents and four kids ages 6, 8, 10, 15) sat down to dinner and in bowls at my parents’ places – and perhaps my oldest brother’s – were these green vegetable things with prickly ends and tough looking leaves.
Of course it begged the question “What are those?”
“Artichokes,” my mother replied, “but I don’t think you’d like them.”
Now anyone who understands reverse psychology would know that IF she wanted to save money she would have made artichokes for all and forced us to eat them. It likely would have been a one and done. But no. Instead the verbal gauntlet was tossed on the table like an, er, discarded artichoke leaf, and we begged to try the vegetable.
Every one of us liked them. A lot. That might have had something to do with the fact that we were allowed to dip the soft leaf ends in mayonnaise and smother the heart in whatever was left.
Over the years artichokes were a springtime treat for the family. And they still are. I continue to prepare them like my mom did, steamed for up to 40 minutes but instead of mayo, we dip the soft ends and the heart in melted butter.
I also love, love, love, pretty much anything that includes artichokes as an ingredient. Artichokes on pizza, artichokes in dips, or even artichokes preserved in olive oil eaten plain are all favorites.
There was, however, one thing artichoke which wasn’t so great. Back in the 1980’s the hubby and I hosted, for several years, an April Fool’s Day party. We invited family and friends and one main feature of the party was the opportunity for attendees to tell their best joke in hopes of winning the prize.
At the end of the joke telling the judges (that would be me and hubby) would decide – usually based on the groans and reactions from the crowd – as to who had told the ‘best’ joke and who told the ‘worst’ joke. But there was a twist. Since it was April Fool’s Day, the winner of the ‘best’ joke got the worst prize and vice versa.
The competition (it was either 1985 or 1986) was particularly hot this one year and Tom, the younger brother of Paul – who I worked with – came loaded with jokes. Tom told bad joke after bad joke and pretty much earned a lifetime achievement award for his repertoire and the judges decided he was the ‘best’ that night.
Winner of the worst joke earned a bottle of scotch. Winner of the best joke? A bottle of this exotic liqueur I found called Cynar. For those paying attention you may have seen the word ‘Cynar’ a bit earlier in this article… Cynara cardunculus. Otherwise known as the globe artichoke.
Tom was thrilled to have won and opened his bottle there and then to savor his sweet win. We provided a shot glass and he took a sip… and nearly spit it out. So older brother Paul also tried it, as did several others. All with the same result. Having seen enough I passed on trying Cynar – the artichoke liqueur – and, thankfully, the bottle went home with Tom that night.
When talking with Paul over this past weekend, he reminded me of what happened after. For a time Paul and Tom were roommates and whenever a new, unsuspecting friend would come to their apartment, out would come the bottle of Cynar and they’d lay it on thick. They’d expound on how great it was and they would invite the ‘new guy’ to have some with them. Everyone would get a small glass and then Paul and Tom – and any others who had been previous victims – would raise their glass to drink. But none of them ever did, instead watching the ‘new guy’ take a slug and… nearly spit it out. This was followed with raucous laughter and telling the story of they came to possess the Cynar.
What prompted Paul to share this story with me (He’d shared it years before, but it never gets old) was that he was on a business trip and sitting at a bar recently and happened to look up at the shelf behind the bartender and, lo and behold, there was a bottle of Cynar. I asked him if he ordered a shot but he said he hadn’t. Can’t imagine why.
I suppose one of these days I really should try Cynar. But I think I will look up how, exactly, it should be consumed first. Probably with a whole lot of orange juice or used sparingly in some fruity cocktail.
In honor of the artichoke this week, however, I skipped the Cynar and instead bought a raw one at Freddies for the hubby and me for dinner last night.
As I began preparing it, I thought of my mother and, as I have done hundreds of times, copied how she cooked them: cut them in half, then remove the tiny ‘hairs’ that grow from the heart. I rinsed between the leaves, spreading them out just a bit, then started them to steam in my double boiler pan. Later, as I dipped the tender pieces in butter I gave a salute to the wonderful globe artichoke, always a treat.
The links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artichoke
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Castroville,_California
Barbara DeVore 