A funny thing about working in a convent is that if you happen to quote a Neruda poem about “the Tenderhearted Artichoke” while at lunch with the sisters, because you were all eating artichokes and it seemed appropriate, every time an artichoke comes anywhere near the kitchen, a sister will make sure to reserve some for you. It’s really very sweet. Surprisingly so, if you aren’t used to that kind of detailed attention.
Anyway, I love artichokes. They are gorgeous. Just this weekend I learned what they looked like when gone to seed. Also lovely.