Choked up

While I do try to eat locally and seasonally as much as possible, I keep telling folks that I am not a purist. And I am capable of letting someone else take over my kitchen... a little bit, anyway. Especially when there is positive reinforcement.

I present Exhibit A: the delicious artichokes that my gentleman friend made for our luxurious lunch this rainy Sunday afternoon (along with a heck of a tasty flank steak grilled up out on the back porch, but the photos I took of that before gobbling it up didn't turn out so beautifully so you'll just have to use your imagination). Lord, do I ever love artichokes, and these were perfect.

Turns out the recipe for steaming the delectable thistle relatives came from Grandma Mil -- Kenton's paternal grandmother. (God bless grandmas and moms who pass along the culinary traditions.) The secret -- can you keep a secret? is it even a secret if I'm posting it out there for an indefinite number of unknown foodies reading this blog from an indeterminate number of computers, forevermore accessible in cyberspace? -- is celery seed! And fresh celery chopped into the boiling water, along with lemon slices and rings of fresh onion. Dunked leaf by luscious leaf into an herbed butter and garlic sauce, our first meal with me not dominating the kitchen was simply divine. A girl could get used to this. (Okay, maybe I made the dipping sauce while the head chef was out manning the grill. And some mashed potatoes. You know, just to round out the meal.)

Heck. Forget roses. If a man were to show up on my doorstep with a bouquet of artichokes, I'd be hard pressed to resist pretty much anything. And if he came in and steamed them for me... and did the dishes afterwards....