Stalking the Wild Artichoke

I have Sarah to thank for setting me off on a nostalgia kick; and Marybeth McCown for providing tonight's  memory.

We had artichokes for dinner this evening; not an unusual occurrence. Steam them, dip the ends of the leaves in melted butter and after finally working your way down to the thistle, spooning out the heart and dunking it in the butter, A bit of work, but the reward is grand and worth it.

We didn't always know about artichokes, and might not to this day if Marybeth had not had Roger stop the Land Rover on a roadside in Guatemala where she purchased some fresh artichokes from a local woman selling fruit and vegetables. She took them home and prepared them for us and introduced us to the art of pulling one leaf at a time off, dipping it and scraping off the meaty portion. Fond memories of that evening in Sacapulas.

We've enjoyed them often since then, and served them to others. A while back, I ran across an old suitor of Julie's who had been in our home years ago when we served artichokes. Mike told me that he had never seen the vegetable prepared before and confessed that he had to watch out of the corner of his eye to see what one did with this strange new dish, and was rather startled at what he saw.

He didn't say whether he still enjoyed a good fresh artichoke now and then, however.

But we do.