ONE of the things I love about food is the tradition, the ritual, relationship or the emotion often associated with a particular ingredient or dish. In my family one of the prominent foods that holds all of these attributes is none other than the artichoke. Famous for her classy dinner parties, my grandmother Miriam’s signature appetizing dish was always the artichoke. I took great pleasure in being seated at one of Grammy’s — as we call her — dinners, with the fanned out, pointy, flower-tree artichoke commanding center stage as it was poised on the sparkling china.
As a little girl, what always confused me about the artichoke appetizer was the dichotomy of Grammy being the consummate lady and hostess, always coaching us on developing good manners — down to teaching me about cutting my food into proper bite size pieces — and yet being famous for commencing all dinner parties with her famous artichoke that, get this, we were supposed to eat sans cutlery, with the bare tips of our very own fingers!
Plus, to add insult to injury, we needed to pile up the chewed up leaves at the side of the china plate, while all along everyone was oohing and ahing at Grammy for being such an elegant hostess.
As far as I was concerned, it was a philosophical conundrum, a mystery that made the world feel not quite right. Truly, it was an anomaly to me. But over the years these thoughts were drowned out by the delicious pleasure and sensory experience of eating the artichoke, leaf by leaf, dipped in Grammy’s creamy white sauce she would serve individually in a tiny ramekin cup, set just to the left of a crystal water glass.
FOR many years now I have tried to carry this food tradition on from Grammy. When I prepare a Shabbat or holiday meal I always include the artichoke as appetizer. I like the idea of feeling Grammy alongside me at every meal in this way.
Grammy is one of those a splash of this and a sprinkle of that kind of cooks. Actually, of all her remarkable talents, cooking was not one of her “things,” and definitely not her passion. She cooked and she hosted beautifully, but for her, cooking was more of a utilitarian matter. She never considered herself to be “the cook” in the family, always deferring to her mother and grandmother, or to my mother or my Aunt Honey. Nonetheless, I always remembered that amazingly creamy artichoke dip of hers with deep affection.
Something about that whole artichoke course was almost an activity. Starting off with one leaf, slowly making your way, leaf by leaf to the best and most coveted part of this vegetable — did you just say it had a heart? Wait, a tender heart? And the heart is the best part?
Think about it, from a little kid’s perspective, what eating an artichoke can mean.
But I digress. That elusive creamy sauce . . . . Over the years I have tried to recreate Grammy’s creamy artichoke dip by combining some mayonnaise, freshly squeezed lemon juice, garlic and some cayenne pepper. After much trial and error, experimenting with proportions, I thought I finally got it. The perfect creamy consistency, balanced by just the right amount of tang and a judicious dash of zip.
Excitedly, I told Grammy how I have tried carrying on this food tradition.
“Oh, honey, do you mean that Best Foods mayonnaise? Isn’t it just great?”
Gulp.
“And you know, isn’t it neat to start off meals this way, while everyone is kibbitzing and eating the artichoke which takes forever to eat, and gives you more time in the kitchen to finish up with everything. I just loved doing that because I was always running late.”
What?
I was deflated.
So it all came down to mayonnaise and being short on time?!
Well, after all these years, and considering that my grandmother is in her nineties, at least I finally solved the intricate gastronomic philosophical twister that had puzzled my young mind, solved.
Well, believe it or not, I just found out that there has been an annual artichoke festival taking place in California for half a century now, with apparently, an official artichoke queen anointed each year. So here is to you Grammy — on another year — another birthday — I crown you as queen of artichoke land, complete with artichoke tiara and artichoke scepter in hand, for you to wield your magic on us all for another wonderful, blessed year. Happy Birthday!
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