Artichokes are my favorite food. My preferred way to eat them is steamed whole and then served with melted butter or a balsamic vinaigrette. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love them. In fact, in my very first dance class at the age of 4 our final performance of the year included all the little girls creating a movement to go with their favorite food. Imagine if you will, 10 4 year olds in bright yellow leotards singing and dancing “Artichokes, artichokes. Pizza, Pizza. Strawberries, strawberries. Grapes! Grapes!” (yes, I still remember the damn song, I’m special).
As much as I love them, I don’t make them often. And Strawberry doesn’t like them at all. She says they taste like “earth, bland and unpleasant”. To me, they taste sweet. Anyway… I had one the other night and as is typical, Curly wanted what he saw me eating. He was banging and reaching for the pile of discarded leaves. So I pulled off a fresh one and handed it to him, fully expecting him to reject it just like he rejects most other green foods. Despite starting at the wrong end, he gnawed on it thoughtfully for awhile and then asked for more. As I got closer to the heart and the leaves got more tender, he was eating them almost faster than I could hand them over. And he was NOT patient when I had to stop and clean the heart. But oh man, did he enjoy eating it!
How do I feel about all of this? Well, part of me is thrilled that he loves something that I do. And the other part of me is thinking, damn, now I’ll never get to eat an artichoke by myself again, I’ll always have to share!
There’s a poll embedded in this post.