Pioneer Days

 The word artichoke is taken from the Arabic ارضي شوكي (ardi shauki) or ارضي شوك (ardi shauk), meaning literally, “ground-thorn.”

It is a thistle.

Persimmon: belongs to the same genus as ebony. The wood has been used for fine billiard cues, high quality golf clubs known as “woods” in the latter part of the 20th century, and for paneling in Korea and furniture in Japan. It has soft, creamy textures that leave a dry feeling on your tongue, and is high in protein and glucose that has both medicinal and chemical uses.

Kumquat: sweet and sour; the rind is sweeter than the inner part of the fruit.

 

Pomegranate: grenade, grenadine, “seeded apple”, can be used as an antiseptic, before the tomato was introduced in the middle east, used in many traditional Persian dishes. Dry and ground the seeds and it becomes a spice. (Anardana, which literally means pomegranate [anar] seeds[dana] in Persian.) Sweet and tangy/sour; it is a culinary delight. The juice will permanently stain. Jewish tradition teaches that the pomegranate is a symbol for righteousness, because it is said to have 613 seeds, which corresponds with the 613 mitzvot, the commandments of the Torah. Persephone ate six pomegranate seeds condemning her to six months a year in the Underworld. This became the ancient Greek reasoning for the seasons. Widely used in Japan and China for bonsai because of the unusual twists in the bark and its lovely flowers.

The above mentioned and grapefruit, lemons, plums, white-fleshed nectarines, grapes, blackberries, olallieberrie, sour grass, honeysuckle, apples, oranges, apricots, peaches, and dates, were just a part of the cornucopia in the neighborhood I grew-up in.

I grew up in California, which, according to this partial list, truly is the land of fruits and nuts. I grew-up eating artichokes as a “vegetable side dish“ with dinner. When I lived in Chicago, I found it absolutely amazing that many people didn’t even know what an artichoke was, much less how to eat one. For me, it was like eating an apple or peeling an orange, only this thistle was dipped in garlic butter or mayonnaise.

We had artichokes with our dinner the other night. The boys are still learning how to eat an artichoke by pulling away only the fleshy ends versus chewing the entire leaf. The first time they had an artichoke, they all hated it; now they love them. D-Man is very good at eating an artichoke, which kind of surprises me. He hates mayonnaise on his sandwiches but loves it with artichokes. Go figure. I always love the way artichokes make milk somehow taste sweeter, richer, and linger on my tongue in a most satisfying way. S and the other boys like to eat theirs with garlic butter. It’s all good.

When I was a kid, we used to play “Pioneers” and would rope our bikes together (like a team of horses), pull our wagons, which were filled with our “supplies”, and travel around the block. Every now and then, we’d stop and set up camp between two houses. We’d hunt and gather our food from our local resources such as the grapefruit tree in the next yard or the blackberry bushes along the fence between the houses. We could eat for days considering all of the fruit growing in everyone’s yards. What’s really amazing about this is that no one seemed to mind a group of chattering kids picking their fruit, parking their wagon train in their driveway, or playing on the side of their house.

Oh, how the times have changed. These are some of my most fond memories. How I wish things were different in this day and age. Oh, how I would love to kick the kids out of the house and tell them to just, “Go play!” knowing they would be safe in the neighborhood. It’s just not like that anymore.

There was one particular house that was “the scary house” on an adjacent corner. It was dark and the yard was over-grown with weeds and wildflowers. It didn’t appear as if anyone lived there. This house had several different kinds of plum trees lined along the backyard fence. We used to climb up on this fence and into the tree and then toss the sweet, juicy, purple-fleshed plums to each other. We would hoard them in our stash and they would be one of our favorite snacks.

One time, I was sitting up in one of those plum trees when an old woman carrying a broom came bursting through the backdoor, yelling at us to, “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY TREE!” We were sure she was a witch because she was old, white-haired, wearing a black dress, and had a big, craggily nose. I jumped down out of that tree, lickity-split, and we all ran down the street, jumped on our bikes and road our little wagon train into the sunset; laughing our heads off. After that, we would dare each other to steal plums from her trees. It was, sometimes, the highlight of our pioneering day.

Anytime I eat artichokes, persimmons, kumquats, or pomegranates, I think of my childhood and our pioneer adventures. Although these fruits are somewhat exotic by, hmmm, let’s say, Iowa standards, they were the norm for me growing up in California. I do miss having so many wonderful fruits, vegetables, and nuts so readily available.

In fact, I think I’ll go to Sunflower Market today and see if they have any more of those artichokes. While I’m there, I’ll check to see if they have any persimmons. I don’t think S and the boys have ever had one. Persimmons, when ripe, are really sweet and gooey and have a very different taste to them. I always thought they tasted a little like lipstick and honey, with a slight cinnamon-orange hint to them.

It will be interesting to see what S and the boys think of them.

Bon Appétit!