Artichokes Quotes

“He has 'le coeur comme un artichaud'. Eddy fumbled for her high school French. 'A heart like an artichoke?' 'Oui. He has a leaf for everyone, but makes a meal for no one.”
― Poppy Z. Brite

“Life is like eating artichokes, you have got to go through so much to get so little.”
― Thomas A. Dorgan

“The only point that everyone I spoke with in Rome agrees upon is that Armando al Pantheon is one of the city's last true trattorie.
Given the location, Claudio and his family could have gone the way of the rest of the neighborhood a long time ago and mailed it in with a handful of fresh mozzarella and prosciutto. But he's chosen the opposite path, an unwavering dedication to the details- the extra steps that make the oxtail more succulent, the pasta more perfectly toothsome, the artichokes and favas and squash blossoms more poetic in their expression of the Roman seasons.
"I experiment in my own small ways. I want to make something new, but I also want my guests to think of their mothers and grandmothers. I want them to taste their infancy, to taste their memories. Like that great scene in Ratatouille."
I didn't grow up on amatriciana and offal, but when I eat them here, they taste like a memory I never knew I had. I keep coming back. For the cacio e pepe, which sings that salty-spicy duet with unrivaled clarity, thanks to the depth charge of toasted Malaysian peppercorns Claudio employs. For his coda alla vaccinara, as Roman as the Colosseum, a masterpiece of quinto quarto cookery: the oxtail cooked to the point of collapse, bathed in a tomato sauce with a gentle green undertow of celery, one of Rome's unsung heroes. For the vegetables: one day a crostini of stewed favas and pork cheek, the next a tumble of bitter puntarelle greens bound in a bracing anchovy vinaigrette. And always the artichokes. If Roman artichokes are drugs, Claudio's are pure poppy, a vegetable so deeply addictive that I find myself thinking about it at the most inappropriate times. Whether fried into a crisp, juicy flower or braised into tender, melting submission, it makes you wonder what the rest of the world is doing with their thistles.”
― Matt Goulding, Pasta, Pane, Vino: Deep Travels Through Italy's Food Culture

“It had started so well. The night after I wrote my first-ever blog entry, I made Bifteck Sauté au Beurre and Artichauts au Naturel- the first recipes in the meat and vegetable chapters of MtAoFC, respectively. The steak I merely fried in a skillet with butter and oil- butter and oil because not only did I not have the beef suet that was the other option, I didn't even know what beef but was. Then I just made a quick sauce out of the juices from the pan, some vermouth we'd had sitting around the house forever because Eric had discovered that drinking vermouth, even in martinis, made him sick, and a bit more butter. The artichokes I simply trimmed- chopping off the stalks and cutting the sharp pointy tops off all the leaves with a pair of scissors- before boiling them in salted water until tender. I served the artichokes with some Beurre au Citron, which I made by boiling down lemon juice with salt and pepper, then beating in a stick of butter. Three recipes altogether, in just over an hour.”
― Julie Powell, Julie & Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously

“Do you know what artichokes are rich in? A little bitterness component called cynarine.
It's an acid known for messing with the taste receptors on your tongue. In fact, its effects are so pronounced...
... that whatever you taste directly afterwards- even if it's just a cup of pure water!- will seem extra sweet!”
― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 27 [Shokugeki no Souma 27]

“That's how it is with people sometimes. You peel the layers off one by one. Slowly. Patiently. Making time. Taking time. And all the while you're working toward a goal you didn't know was there.

As the stewing makes tender the artichoke petals, so too, do time and effort turn acquaintenceship into the tender treasure that is friendship.

That evening, in the glow of candlelight, and in the warmth which can only be felt among friends, each of us reached the heart of the artichoke.

We are most comfortable with the things we know best. But if we always avoid the unfamiliar, how will we ever know what riches may be waiting for us, deep within the heart?

A first encounter with an artichoke can be perplexing and somewhat formidable experience, for the artichoke gives little clue from its appearance of the delights within. The heart of the artichoke is surrounded- protected if you will- by both leaves and the choke or thistle. When properly prepared, the choke is easily removed and the small amount of meat on the softened leaves yields a promise of what's to come.”
― Mary Kay Shanley, She Taught Me to Eat Artichokes: The Discovery of the Heart of Friendship

“My mind started to tumble, much like fresh pasta dough rolls its way through the machine. I hadn't made fresh pasta yet in this competition, and if I could pull it off, I could see it being a real winner. That way I could turn the herb broth and herb butter into an herby butter pasta sauce----maybe with white wine, maybe with some fried capers to cut through the richness with their briny bite. My scallops would go well with with that, being perfectly seared this time, of course. And the artichokes? Maybe I didn't need to fry the hearts whole. I could chop them smaller and fry them like that, crispy little flowers to add some crunch to the soft pasta and meaty scallops.”
― Amanda Elliot, Sadie on a Plate

“ The cream sauce has a rich, full-bodied bitterness to it that makes the tongue tingle...
Its spicy freshness lightens up the thick, heavy flavor of the roast beef to exactly the right degree! The wallop the meat's juice packs is no joke, but I feel I could keep eating this forever!
Sure, he shoved a mountain of artichokes into this dish...
... but how did he manage to make their uniquely fresh, vibrant and astringent flavor stand out this much?!
"This, too, is the result of Mr. Eizan's highly skilled use of cynarine. Any unnecessary source of sweetness has been removed, which makes the taste of the cream sauce stand out even more starkly."
"Whoa, Whoa! Slow down. I'm totally lost here!"
"I get that cynarine's supposed to make stuff taste sweet, but how does that even work?"
"Is it so bitter that anything tasted afterwards seems sweet by comparison?"
"No, it isn't anything as simple as that. Cynarine directly affects the taste buds."
Yep! When you eat food that contains cynarine, the compound spreads across your tongue as you chew, covering up and thereby blocking the taste buds for sweetness.
That's what's happening with Yukihira and the judges right now. Their tongues can't taste sweet, so bitter flavors really stand out. As they eat other food, the act of chewing gradually wipes the cynarine off the tongue. Slowly, their taste buds resume their normal functions. But here's where the important bit happens...
Since the tongue has been blocked from tasting sweet flavors for a time...
... even a tiny bit of sweetness will now stick out like a sore thumb!
"When there's a ton of cynarine smeared on the tongue, even a cup of water will taste supersweet.”
― Yūto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 27 [Shokugeki no Souma 27]