artichokes

Ok, you're probably going to think I'm crazy for this one.

But most of you do anyway. So I guess it's nothing new.

In my family, on holidays, we have artichokes. It was a staple of every Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. I'm not sure if it's a Catholic thing or an Italian thing. But I know we aren't the only family that does it.

For about the first six years of my life, I was adamant about eating them. I mean, they're a round leafy thing. In my opinion, you weren't supposed to eat things that looked like there should be a flower coming out of them.

Until my grandmother forced me to eat one.

Then me and my cousins would have "artichoke eating contests" because we were that cool.

To eat them (for those who have never had them before) you pull a leaf off of the bunch and put it face down in your mouth and drag the stuff off with your teeth. It's not a pretty sight, to be fairly honest.

Anyway, we all loved them.

So when my grandmother died (for she was the one who would cook them) we figured that was the end of that. She used to do them with garlic, salt, pepper, and tons of oil in a pressure cooker.

Last year, my father attempted to do them.

He called our cousin Nancy and asked for the family recipe and decided that he was going to master them. He tried. But, even he admitted they weren't quite right. "Not enough pepper" we both agreed.

So this year, he used a whole container of pepper. Have you ever eaten something that had too much pepper in it and it felt like your ears were burning? Yeah, that's what we got.

This year they were... better... but something else was off. So I've now been put in charge, like everything else.

My father is deathly afraid of pressure cookers because he thinks they'll blow up (and in all possibilities, in my mothers kitchen, they probably would. I mean... Pyrex? yeah...) so I'm heading out to try and find one so I can take over the delicate task.

Notice that I always end up with the food? Notice that I was the only one with Nonie there on Saturday and Sunday afternoons learning how to make all the food? And everyone bitches and complains that they never learned?

Ha.

My aunt told me I should have gone to CIA out of high school because I make a great cook. Maybe she's right.

all for now

peace