The Bicycle Thieves

In the film Ladri di biciclette (The Bicycle Thief),Vittorio De Sica's 1948 masterpiece of Italian neorealism, Antonio is struggling to support his family in post-World War II Rome. He has miraculously landed a job, but it requires a bicycle and his has already been pawned. His wife sells her dowry linens to retrieve it and the family's prospects seem to be on the rise, Then the bicycle is stolen. Antonio is devastated because the loss of his job means ruin for his family. One thing leads to another until Antonio himself becomes a bicycle thief. 

I thought of Antonio the other morning when I went down to get my bike and found that it had been stolen during the night. I suspect that it was just one of many because the bike rack was curiously empty and the only bikes left were those that were locked with heavy metal chains. 

Old-timers in Pisa attribute the thefts to people from Livorno, Pisa's ancient enemy in war and modern rival in soccer. Others accuse extracomunitari, people from outside the European Union, for the most part from eastern Europe. Harder for them to admit, but also likely, is the fact that among the culprits are ordinary Italian citizens, who like Antonio, are reduced to thievery by Italy's severe economic crisis. 

Whoever is behind it, bicycle theft is an enormous problem in Italy. In a recent survey, Fiab, (the Italian Federation of Friends of the Bicycle) estimated that 320,000 of the four million bikes on the road in Italy are stolen each year. The numbers are especially high in university towns such as Bologna, where the 240 people interviewed by Fiab reported 275 bicycles stolen. In Pisa, the numbers of stolen bikes are also higher than one per person interviewed. At a high school in Pisa, 50 bikes, locked to racks in the school's courtyard, have been stolen in the last several months. In a recent article in the local paper, the principal of the school Andrea Simonetti, cried basta and called for the city to take action: "We cannot remain silent while our parking lots are regularly plundered in broad daylight," he said.  

Pisa has instigated a registration policy for bikes, and police have conducted some undercover raids at known selling points for stolen bikes. However, theft is still such a common occurrence here that most people don't even bother to report it. Antonio and I, however, both filed a denuncia. At the headquarters of the carabinieri, the officer who took my complaint was very nice, but like Antonio's police officer, he warned me there was very little the police could do. He gave me a copy of the report and suggested that I walk around the city and look for my bike.  If I found it, I could call for an officer and with my complaint in hand, it was likely my bike would be returned to me.  

So I've been walking around Pisa for the last couple of days. Bikes are everywhere - thousands and thousands of them - but there is no sign of mine.  In the film there is a scene where Antonio, who has been searching for his bike in the streets of Rome, sits on a curb and watches sadly as the world whizzes past him on bikes. I know how he felt.

If Hollywood made The Bicycle Thief, my part would be played by a young beautiful blond who would find her bike, aided by an incredibly handsome Italian policeman. They would fall madly in love and in the last scene, they would bike off into the sunset. In the gritty world of Italian neorealism, however, Antonio never does find his bike.  I suspect I won't either.

My green and white Bianchi bicycle was already old when I bought it nine years ago for 40 euros. JR, however, kept it in good repair, and a vegetable crate, tied to the back rack, allowed me to carry wine and other heavy items. I never bought an official bike basket because I always assumed my bike would get stolen. Now it's happened, but I content myself with the fact that nine years is something of a record for continuous bike ownership here in Pisa. Friends always said that my bike was too ugly to steal, but I thought of it as distinctive and too easily recognized. I guess in the dark of the night, its distinctiveness was not apparent. 

Unlike Antonio, I can buy another bike, but I will miss my old one. It took me not just to the supermarket in Pisa, but also - on bright, sunny spring  days - along coastal roads on the island of Elba, through Tuscan river valleys red with poppies, and to the tops of the highest hills in Chianti.

(To see more photos, including places I visited on my bike, click here.)

A presto,

Geraldine

Pisa 2014

On our last full day in Paris for this year, I went out early to buy bread and a final croissant or two. The city was still abed; the streets were swept clean; and everything was aglow in the early morning sun. It was a good day to be out and about in Paris.

My friend Marcelle invited me to lunch and we went to a nearby restaurant which I had always meant to try, but never had - Des Gars dans la Cuisine. It's a modern, glass-fronted restaurant on the ancient rue du Vieille du Temple.  It's a bit pricey a la carte, but like many restaurants in Paris, it has a very reasonable, very good lunch menu.  Afterwards, we picked up some pastries and headed back to the apartment for coffee and dessert. JR was there and opened a good, bubbly bottle of Vouvray to celebrate another great stay in Paris.  

That night, with the apartment all cleaned, we went off to a neighborhood restaurant, Page 35, for crepes.  When we left, the three owners gave us a card they had all signed, wishing us a speedy return to Paris.

The next morning, we left Paris' Orly Airport bound for Pisa. It's only an hour and a half flight, but it takes you to a world far from the big-city hustle and bustle of Paris. Here in the center of historic Pisa, life is slower; buildings are older and smaller; and change is less obvious - although a new giant IKEA did open during the last year on the outskirts of town. And, of course, Italy has a new government although that is a common occurrence. According to a recent article in The New Yorker, Italy has had 63 governments in the last 68 years.

Economically, the situation in Italy remains depressed and young people continue to leave in droves to find jobs in other countries. Still, for a visitor, some things, such as the friendliness of the people and the beauty of the landscape, seem never to change. Baristas, bakers and pizza makers welcomed us back. Friends called and on our first night in Pisa, we were invited out to the opera at Pisa's beautiful Teatro Verdi.

The opera Andrea Chenier was a perfect transition from France to Italy.  Written by the Italian composer Umberto Giordano, it is the story (tragic, of course) of the French poet Andrea Chenier who, along with the love of his life, goes to the guillotine during the French Revolution

The next day, to wash away our sorrows, we went to the thermal baths in Casciana Terme, a town about 40 kilometers south of Pisa. The numerous towns in Tuscany with the word terme or bagni in their names attests to the fact that the region is rich in hot springs. Their curative powers were heralded as far back as Etruscan times. The Tabula Peutingeriana, a 12th-century copy of a Roman map dating back to about 70 A.D., shows the thermal waters of the Tuscan towns of Volterra and Populonia. 

Legend says that the hot springs of Casciana were discovered by Contessa Matilde di Canossa, a famous and powerful noblewoman of the Middle Ages. According to this legend, a little bird told her. The bird in question - an old pet robin - would fly creakily off each morning to an unknown destination and would return in the evening rejuvenated. A bit of reconnaissance revealed that the bird was spending its days soaking in a natural hot spring. Matilde decided to do likewise. The water's effects on Matilde are unknown, but it is known that at age 43, she married the 17-year old Duke of Bavaria. She lived, reigned and commanded an army up until her death at age 69, which is a ripe old age for medieval times.

The thermal waters at Casciana surge out of the ground from a source 700 meters  deep (2,300ft) and have a constant temperature of 35.7 degrees celsius (96.2F). The spa at Casciana offers everything from mud baths to medical rehabilitation. We contented ourselves with three hours in the toasty warm outdoor pool.

In the evening, we drove into the nearby hills to attend a friend's Mardi Gras party.  "Fat Tuesday," the usual day of Mardi Gras parties and parades had long since past and Lent, the season of fasting, had already begun. Nonetheless, there were costumes, dancing and plenty of great food. As I said, in Italy, things move a little slower.

To see more photos, click here.

A presto,

Geraldine

Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor

Great Books V

Still Life, Anonymous, 16th Century, Florence

We'll be leaving for Paris on January 6 and going on to Pisa in March. In anticipation, I'm reading some great French and Italian detective mysteries. Although it might not seem obvious, a good detective story can be better than the best guide book in providing a window on the culture, history, geography and cuisine of a country. 

Auguste Dupin was the first English-language detective in Edgar Allen Poe's The Murders in the Rue Morgue published in 1841. Monsieur Lecoq appeared in France in 1868, and the great detective Sherlock Holmes made his debut in London in 1887. The 1920s and 1930s were considered the highpoint of the genre with the arrival of such famous detectives as Sir Peter Whimsey, Inspector Maigret, Miss Marple and Philip Marlowe. Detective novels continue to be popular into this century. In 2012, mystery novels ranked second in U.S. market share with sales of $728.2 million (Romance novels were first with $1.438 billion in estimated revenue.) 

In France, a detective or police novel is known as a roman policier or a polar, a slang word derived from policier; in Italy, the books are called libri gialli. Giallo or yellow is the background color used on a series of detective mysteries first published by the Italian publishing house Mondadori in 1929. The books, mostly translations of American and English pulp fiction, had such success that other publishers began producing their own versions, with similar yellow covers. The genre expanded to include thriller and suspense books and films, which are all known in Italy today as gialli.

All of Travel Oyster's Great Books V are books in a series so if you like them, you can be assured of plenty of good reading.

The Châtelet Apprentice
published in French as L'Énigme des Blancs-Manteaux
First novel in the Nicolas LeFloch Series
Jean-François Parot
Translated into English by Michael Glencross

If you love history, want to walk the streets of a meticulously-recreated 18th-century Paris, and consult food menus of the period, then this is the series for you. Our hero, Nicolas LeFloch, raised in Brittany in a religious order, arrives in Paris with a recommendation from his godfather the Marquis of Ranreuill. With such an illustrious backer, the young police officer is quickly involved in intrigue and in the murder of some important people - with implications for King Louis XV himself. As the series develops (there are currently 11 books) LeFloch's personal life and love life become as complicated as the crimes he solves. Along the way, Parot has his fictional characters rub elbows with authentic historical figures, including LeFloch's boss, Antoine de Sartine, who was the lieutenant general of police at the Châtelet in Paris from 1759-1774. Although numerous physical changes have occurred in Paris in the intervening 250 years, it's amazing how many of the streets, buildings and markets that LeFloch frequents still exist in modern-day Paris. 

Murder in the Marais
First novel in the Aimée Leduc Investigations
Cara Black

Modern-day private investigator Aimée Leduc wears high heels, Chanel suits and and zooms up to the scene of the crime on her trademark motorcycle. Underneath her classic exterior, however, Leduc is pure punk. The suits are from second-hand shops in Paris; the heels are often thrown in her bag as she chases criminals through some of the city's seediest streets; and the motorcycle is frequently in the repair shop. Like all interesting fictional characters, Leduc's personal life is complicated. She is the daughter of an American mother, who disappeared when Aimée was eight years old, and a French father, who was also an investigator. When her father is killed during a stakeout, Aimée abandons her studies at the Sorbonne to take over his business. Her specialty is computer forensics and corporate security - a business that doesn't sound as if it should lead to murder, but it does, again and again, in every neighborhood of Paris. Her work takes her to many famous areas of Paris, but also to other neighborhoods unknown to most visitors. Although the author Cara Black lives in California, she knows the ins and outs of Paris better than most Parisians, and her descriptions of the city are accurate and intriguing. For a list of all the books in the Aimée Leduc Investigations, click here. 

Death at La Fenice
The first in the Commissario Guido Brunetti Series
Donna Leon

In this first novel of the wonderful Commissario Brunetti mysteries, a world-renowned musical conductor is found dead during the intermission of La Traviata at Venice's famed theater, La Fenice. Turns out someone put cyanide in his coffee. Commissario Brunetti's investigation leads him not only behind the scenes of the world of opera, but also into the conductor's murky past. There is no shortage of suspects, but the suave, urbane Brunetti is a master of detection. 

The author, American Donna Leon, has lived in Venice for almost 30 years and has written 22 Brunetti mysteries since this first one was published in 1992. The beautiful city of canals shares top billing with Brunetti, his family and friends, and the crooks and murderers who inhabit not only the back allies of Venice, but also its fabled palazzos. Venice may be known as La Serenissima, but life in Leon's Venice is anything but serene. (The title La Serenissima actually refers to the Venetian Republic's historical sovereignty.) 

The Commissario Brunetti mysteries are translated into 24 languages, but the glaring exception is Italian.  It's been speculated in the Italian press that Leon is afraid to have her books published in Italian because she fears Italians may be offended by what she says about their country. In an interview, however, Leon said: "the people in my neighborhood know that I am the American who lives opposite Nando and above Angelo Costantini and it would just change the tenor of my life...But I'm not afraid, if people don't like the books, read another book." I think that for most people, once you read one Brunetti novel, you'll want to read them all. (Fans of Brunetti are in luck: the 23rd book in the series, By Its Cover, will be available in April 2014.)  

The Shape of Water
published in Italian as La forma dell'acqua
First book in the Inspector Montalbano series
Andrea Camilleri
Translated into English by Stephen Sartarelli

Author Andrea Camilleri was little known outside of his native Italy until in 1994, at age 70, he wrote La forma dell' acqua (The Shape of Water). The book introduces us to Inspector  Salvo Montalbano and the world of crime, violence, sex and intrigue in the fictional Sicilian town of Vigàta.

Montalbano is an engaging character, somewhat contentious, but honest and decent - although he knows, as Camilleri says: "that sometimes refusing to obey an order is a virtue, not a sin."  An avid reader of detective novels and a lover of good food, Montalbano is adept at navigating the seamy underworld of the Mafia and its web of crime. 

Food often plays a part in Italian novels, but Montalbano really loves food. A culinary discussion can pop up anywhere in a Montalbano book, even at the scene of a crime.  At a restaurant, Montalbano may deliver a tirade on Italy's former prime minister Silvio Berlusconi, but when the food arrives, silence reigns. Not even a beautiful woman sitting across from him can distract him from the pleasures of his food - at least not until the meal is finished. (Click here for Camilleri's web page containing recipes from the books.)

Sicily, with all its beauty and its corruption, comes to life in the Montalbano series, but the entire country is represented in the astute commentary on the social history of Italy for the last 20 years. In an interview in the Guardian newspaper, the author said: I deliberately decided to smuggle into a detective novel a critical commentary on my times. This also allowed me to show the progression and evolution in the character of Montalbano." 

There are now 22 books in the series (16 of them have been translated into English) and Camilleri is known the world over. At 88 years old, the author doesn't know how many more Montalbano books he has in him, but it's certain that there will be at least one more. Camilleri has already written that last Montalbano mystery and deposited it with his publisher. When he gets tired of Montalbano or can't write any more, the book will be published. "I finished him off," says Camilleri. I, for one, am hoping Andrea Camilleri and Salvo Montalbano live a long, long time.

Happy New Year and Happy Reading,

Geraldine    

Wild Asparagus

Spring has come late to Tuscany this year, but in the last week or so, the air has been full of the scents and sounds of primavera. All over Pisa, the wisteria is in full bloom, filling the air with an intoxicating perfume. The swallows, the acrobatic high flyers of the bird kingdom, have returned. Gliding swiftly and effortlessly above the River Arno and through the narrow corridors that separate the great tower houses of Pisa, the birds' high-pitched calls fill the morning and evening skies as they feast on newly-hatched insects.  

Yesterday, the little three-wheeled truck piled high with spring artichokes made its first appearance on the Borgo Stretto. And in the market, wild field greens, spring peas, tender fava beans and big bunches of cultivated asparagus fill the big red bins of the vegetable sellers.  

If you are so inclined, know where to look, have a bicycle and a sunny day, you can pick wild asparagus. I have all of these things so when I found myself with a free afternoon, I put on my hiking shoes, grabbed a cloth bag and pedaled out of town along the Medici aqueduct toward the Monti Pisani, the high hills that form the green backdrop of Pisa. There, in an olive grove that climbs a steep, terraced hillside, the asparagus grows amid a profusion of wild flowers 

Asparagus acutifolius is found only in the Mediterranean basin. It is an evergreen and as its Latin name implies, is thorny and prickly. The thin, delicate spears hide in the thick grey-green foliage and are not easy to spot. 

I was lucky.  It was a weekday and I had the Monti to myself. At the base of the hill, wild fennel was growing and I made a note to pick some on the way back. (Fennel greens are great sauteed or chopped fresh into salads. Or throw a big bunch of fennel greens into boiling water; cook some pasta in the water; and then serve the pasta with butter or olive oil, salt  and cheese for a delicate first course.)

Asparagus is not only good, it's good for you. It's low in calories and salt and full of vitamins and minerals and has been eaten for thousands of years. Asparagus spears appear on a 5,000-year-old Egyptian vase and the vegetable was very popular in Greek and Roman times.  It fell out of favor in the Middle Ages, but by the 1500s, it was being celebrated for its aphrodisiacal qualities.  There is no creditable scientific proof of this, but it is known that for some people, eating asparagus in the evening can inhibit sleep. It might be that - more than any chemical effect - that turns one's thoughts to lovemaking.

By the end of the afternoon, I had lots of wild asparagus, some fennel and a nice sunny complexion. I biked home and that evening we had a delicious, simple asparagus pasta. (Who needs sleep?) The recipe is below. 

If you don't have access to wild asparagus and it's springtime where you are, buy the freshest asparagus you can find in the market; mix up a green salad; accompany it with a good bottle of Italian wine and enjoy. It's up to you whether you have it for lunch or dinner. 

(If you are fortunate enough to live in a land where asparagus acutifolius grows and want to learn how to cultivate it at home, click here.)

For more photos, click here.

For an in-depth article on asparagus from the blog Quick Easy Cook, click here.

A presto, 

Geraldine

Pasta with wild asparagus 

A bunch of wild  (or cultivated) asparagus
Salt
Parmesan cheese
1-2 garlic cloves chopped
Olive oil
Pasta of your choice




       


1.  Bring about 5 quarts of water to a rolling boil, put in the pasta and cook for the required time.
2.  In the meantime, especially if using wild asparagus cut off just the tender tips (about 3     inches or so - 30 cm)
3.  Cover the bottom of a small frying pan with good, full-bodied olive oil.
4.  Set to medium-low heat, and add garlic, asparagus and some good sea salt.
5.  Saute for just a few minutes until garlic is golden and asparagus is cooked, but still a little bit crisp. (Don't overcook. Try to remember the Roman expression for acting quickly, which loosely translates  from the Latin  to "faster than cooking asparagus.")
6.  Drain pasta, toss it over a low flame with some more olive oil, serve it into pasta dishes and top with cooked asparagus.
7.  Serve with grated parmesan cheese.

Pisa Unchanged

To see more photos, click here

Recently, I attended a press conference given by the mayor of Pisa. Its purpose was to announce an upcoming Dante conference and a new summer program entitled: "Reading Dante in Pisa." (If you would like to enroll, click here.) In 1312-1313, Dante is believed to have spent quite a bit of time in Pisa writing his famous Monarchia. After his death, Pisa was a center of Dante studies and some of the best-known Dante commentators and historians lived here. The University of Pisa is, in fact, still home to a host of illustrious Dante scholars. (One of them, Marco Santagata, recently published a well-reviewed narrative biography of the poet: Dante, Il Romanzo della sua Vita.) While Florence, Bologna and Ravenna have capitalized on their role in the life of Dante to attract visitors to their cities, Pisa's connection to the great poet is much less known. 

How big a draw is Dante, you might ask. Well, when the well-known actor Roberto Benigni read the Divine Comedy on Italian television, more than 10 million people tuned in. The entire 13 programs have reached more than 45 percent of Italian households.

The Dante initiative is just one part of a larger plan to make Pisa more attractive to tourists. Contracts with the European low-cost airlines are bringing more and more visitors to Pisa and the city wants people to know that it has a lot more to offer than one magnificent leaning tower. 

A new, multi-media web site with tourist itineraries is in the works; two new museums - Palazzo Blu and the Museum of Graphic Design - have opened on the Lungarno in recent years; and the restoration of Pisa's incredible medieval walls is well on its way to completion. Soon it will be possible to walk the restored portions of the nearly 35-foot high walls and see Pisa from a whole new point of view. A relative late-comer, the town's beautiful Teatro Verdi, completed in 1867, has a new web site (presently in Italian only). Visitors can now buy tickets online to the theater's many plays, concerts, operas and dance performances. On the splendid Piazza dei Cavalieri, the ugly blacktop paving has been removed and replaced with more traditional paving stones. The Piazza Victorio Emanuele II, under construction for many years, is now finished, complete with underground parking. Cars are no longer allowed on the square, which means locals and tourists arriving at the near-by train station can enjoy a long passeggiata from the Piazza down the renovated pedestrian street of the Corso Italia, over the Ponte di Mezzo and on to the medieval Borgo Stretto. Along the way, they pass great shops, book stores, restaurants, bars, cafes and gelaterias.

Not every citizen in Pisa, of course, is happy with all the changes, but from a visitor's point of view, the biggest draw in Pisa is all the things that haven't changed - not in hundreds  and hundreds of years.  

The cathedral, one of the most celebrated Romanesque buildings in the world, was started in 1064, the Baptistery in 1152, and the famous Leaning Tower in 1173. The town walls of Pisa were begun in 1155. Just outside the walls is the modern-day Jewish Cemetery, which opened in 1674 on the site of an earlier 13th-century one. The University of Pisa, one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in Europe, was founded in 1343. The National Museum of San Matteo, housed in a 13th-century Benedictine convent, is filled with magnificent works of art from the 12th to the 17th centuries.  At the archeological site of the Cantiere delle Navi Antiche, there are the remains of ships dating from the 5th century b.c. to the 7th century a.d, a testament to Pisa's maritime dominance, which continued into the 13th century. The Borgo Stretto, as it name implies, is a narrow street in the heart of the old town lined with 15th-century arcades. 

In addition to its monumental buildings, Pisa is packed with beautiful, smaller Romanesque churches, magnificent town houses along the Arno, and hundreds of traditional Tuscan-colored, medieval tower houses. One of them is the house where Galileo was born. And although more than 1 million people visit the Leaning Tower each year, it is still possible in Pisa to walk alone down any number of small streets and to imagine yourself in a time far removed from the present.  

Our apartment is right in the heart of medieval Pisa, just down the block from the Teatro Verdi and Galileo's house. We're just steps away from the Arno River, but we've not seen many tourists in our neighborhood. The other day, however, I saw two American women with a guide book, looking up at our tower house.  

So, if you want to see Pisa before the rush, come now.   

To see more photos, click here.

A presto,

Geraldine

Photos by GFK

THE PISA THAT ISN'T?

The Leaning Tower of Pisa, the medieval town wall and the cathedral with its oval Byzantine dome are perfectly framed in my office window. In spite of this priceless view, it's sometimes impossible to stay inside and work, especially on days when the sky is a clear blue and the Tuscan sun is warm and inviting.  

The streets of Pisa are alive with activity.  Everyone is outside, walking, shopping and, of course, talking, talking, talking.  Around every corner there is something to see: a medieval tower house illuminated by the sun; a cafe terrace where two elegant women sip - in a nod to summer - a tall frothy drink adorned with strawberries; tourists whose faces light up with amazement at their first sight of the Leaning Tower; African street vendors hawking their wares of lighters, tissues, beaded jewelry and fake Armani watches.

A Pisan friend, who is very pessimistic - as are many Italians - about the future of Italy, tells me that I have created and written about a Pisa che non c'è.  It's a charming Pisa, he says, but one that does not exist. "Where is your Pisa?", he asks.  "I don't see it."  

What he sees are young people who can't get jobs; public services in disarray; cities in decline; an apathetic, discouraged electorate and a self-serving government. Could it be that my Pisa is a myth made of smoke and mirrors and good camera angles?

I feel at home in Italy, in this land that my ancestors left more than a hundred years ago. After my friend's comments, however, I began to wonder if it is possible for a visitor - even one who spends two months a year in Italy - to really know the country. I may understand Italy's problems, but I don't really suffer the consequences. I read the Italian newspapers; shake my head at the price of gas (about eight dollars a gallon); lament that the garbage has not been picked up or that some ancient stone streets in Pisa have been blacktopped over to save money on maintenance -  and then I get on the plane and go home.    

Nonetheless the Pisa that I write about and photograph does exist and it's very real. There are the beautiful medieval buildings; the back streets that seem always to be deserted except for the wheeling swallows; the friendly, outgoing people; the markets; the thousands of students who give this old town a youthful feel; the wonderful food; the nearby beaches; the Monti Pisani - the hills behind the town that in springtime are awash with wild orchids and tender wild asparagus perfect for a risotto to be shared with good friends; and the beautiful cathedral complex with its improbable tower which, no matter how many times you see it, continues to amaze. 

There are things that are wrong here, but someone else will have to write about them. I plan to continue to concentrate on the wonderful Pisa that is.

For more photos of that Pisa, click here.  

Ciao,

Geraldine

Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor

ARTICHOKES, BEAUTIFUL ARTICHOKES

"Carciofi - grandi, piccoli, verdi, viola - tutti belli." It's April so it's only natural that the  vendors in the markets of Pisa are hawking artichokes  - "big ones, small ones, green ones, purple ones,  all of them beautiful."

Just outside of town, bordered by the 16th-century Medici aqueduct and with the Pisan hills as a backdrop, the fields are bursting with the verdant abundant carciofi plants. On the Borgo Stretto, the little three-wheeled truck, incongruously named the Euro-Star, is full to the top with the flower of the gods -- so named because the Greek god Zeus is said to have created the artichoke.

A plant resembling the artichoke, possibly from the cardoon family, is mentioned in Greek and Latin writings. The Italian word carciofo, however,  comes from the Arab, al kharshuf, and it was the Arabs who brought the modern-day plant to Italy sometime in the 15th century. Since then, the Italians have made the artichoke their own, just as they did with the tomato which was brought to  Italy from the Americas in the 17th century. The artichoke made the reverse journey, arriving in California with Italian immigrants, who found there, on the coast of the Pacific, the cool, moist climate that artichokes love.  

Artichokes have many health benefits and, supposedly, regular consumption of artichokes is linked to healthier skin and improved skin luminosity. In 1947, Marilyn Monroe was named the first Miss California Artichoke Queen, and we all know how luminous her skin was.  Could it have been the artichokes?

The artichoke itself is the unopened flower of the plant. Baby artichokes are not simply small artichokes, but are secondary flowers that grow near the base of the stem, where they are protected by the dense foliage of the plant. No matter what the size, however, when the petals begin to open, the artichoke is overripe. So be sure to look for tightly closed ones.

There are approximately 90 different varieties of artichokes in Italy, but most never leave the area where they are grown. Every region has its special recipes. However, in the spring when artichokes are young and fresh, all they need is a little salt, some olive oil and perhaps a bit of garlic. Two Tuscan friends, who are very good cooks, suggested these simple recipes. I've named them in their honor.

  

Carciofi alla Fabrizio

Ingredients: artichokes, olive oil, salt, water.

1. Wash the artichokes in cold water.
2. Remove the small leaves at the base and all the exterior leaves until the very light green/yellow leaves appear. Cut off the pointy ends of the leaves. Don't be stingy here.  Much more of the artichokes goes into  the compost heap than in the pot. If you have the artichoke stems, peel, slice and cook them as well.  They are almost as good as the heart.
3. Cut the artichokes in half or quarters depending on the size. Unless you have a variety of Italian artichoke that is spineless, remove the spiny choke with a knife.
4. Wash again to remove any errant spines.
5. Lightly cover the bottom of a frying pan with olive oil. Heat oil to medium, put in artichokes and sprinkle with sea salt
6. Cook over medium heat. After a few minutes, add some water and cover the pan. When water evaporates, add more.
7. Continue cooking in this manner until artichokes are very soft - 20 to 30 minutes.

Carciofi alla Paola

Ingredients: artichokes, olive oil, garlic, salt, water.

1. Wash and clean as above. Cut artichokes lengthwise into slices.  
2. Put in a pan with olive oil, turn heat to high, add artichokes and chopped garlic Sprinkle with sea salt.
3. Cook over high heat, stirring constantly and adding water as above until artichokes are very soft, approximately 20-30 minutes.

My friend Angela suggested a variation to this recipe :  Peel some potatoes, cut lengthwise into the same thickness as the artichoke slices and cook along with the artichokes as instructed above. The recipe is called Padellata di Carciofi e Patate.

To see more photos, click here.

Buon appetito,

Geraldine

Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor