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Artifondo watched in silence as Cook hummed to herself in anticipation of the tasty thistle treat. She lingered over the pot of boiling water, nudging the artichoke halves gently with a slotted wooden spoon. At last she declared it done – it had turned a lovely, bright shade of green. Scooping each half up with the spoon she deposited each to a plate and invited Artifondo over to partake of the tasty treat.
‘I love that green, sort of grassy smell,’ she said, pulling off one of the more tender inner leaves and giving it a dip in the butter. Delicious! She tried one of the outer leaves, too, and to her delight, found it just as tender. With and expert hand, Cook then took her half and extricated the heart from the thistly leaves. ‘Now here’s the test of a really good choke,’ she said dipping the heart into the butter to give it a generous coating, then pooping it whole into her mouth. ‘Good as ever I tasted!’ she declared. ‘Sweet and tender!’
Cook gave a sigh of satisfaction and pushed the remainder of the artichoke away from her. ‘Well, Master Artifondo,’ she said, nodding her head. ‘if you can bring me . . . oh, say, three or four sacks of these fine vegetables every other month during the season I’d be happy to serve them at the Inn.’ She got up from her chair, saying she needed to get ready to visit a friend.
As she got down a small basket from the top of one of the cupboards, she turned back to the merchant for a moment. ‘I’d also be willing to stock any canned artichoke hearts your family might produce . . . they’re lovely in my chicken and mushroom pie. Is that something you have for sale?’
She waited for his answer as she started to fill her basket with some of the plum tarts she had baked earlier along with a couple of mugs, a small pot of honey, spoons, and napkins.
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