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Every market has a unique personality. Tuesdays in Culver Cityhave many an “industry� type (that’s entertainment, not food) from Sony Pictures. Firemen on lunch and a largely Latino clientele in Westchester on Wednesdays. Students, meds and asian tourists make up quite a social scene on Thursdays in Westwood Village. These markets have many stands with vendors selling foods ready to eat – barbecue, sausages, tamales, shish kebabs.

Fridays in Venice, though, there are only fresh produce farmers, an herb farmer, a cheese maker, and smoked salmon. The food vendors probably wouldn’t do well in a market that closes an hour before the regularly appointed lunch hour. Accordingly, I see are pairs and triples of youngish, bohemian hip moms pushing strollers buying ingredients for the weekend’s meals, and an occasional Friday business casual picking up some fruit for breakfast on the way to work.

Though I didn’t live up to the challenge of green almonds, I did finally give in and buy fresh artichokes. I love artichokes. I mean, I looove artichokes. But whenever I’ve read recipes using fresh artichokes, or watched chefs prepare them on TV, they look like they have to go to a lot of trouble. So, unless they are already roasted or in a salad/pasta for me in a restaurant, I always buy the canned artichoke hearts, or snag them from the salad bar to cook at home. Fresh artichokes are pretty. They should be, since they are sort of the flower of a plant in the thistle family. So yes, it’s a flower, so it’s pretty. But, whoa, “thistleâ€? makes them pretty scary. “Nightshadeâ€? sounds creepy, too, but I’ve never been intimidated by an eggplant.

It was open-artichoke-heart surgery. Kitchen shears. Snip the tips of the leaves because they have spikes! Scalpel (aka long, serrated knife). Slice of the top. Cut the artichoke open, and it gets a little hairy, literally. Pull out the furry little choke. Tiny inner leaves that are an innocuous-looking pink, well they have some serious thorns, too. And in the recovery unit, you have to baby the things with either an olive oil rubdown every place you made a cut, or let the entire thing soak in a lemon juice bath to prevent discoloration. Picky, prickly little things, aren’t they?

But the trouble is all worth it in the end. After a quick dip in boiling water to tenderize, they go for a slow 325 degree roast with olive oil, garlic, and salt. Artichoke stems are an extension of the heart, so they taste delicious with shavings of parmesan cheese. For the tougher outer leaves, we dip, not in an aioli, but simply in olive oil, salt and pepper and do the customary wide-smile-pull between the teeth. Funny little side note: “I’m not getting anything – I think it’s because of my over-bite.” “Um, you’re holding the leaf backwards. The good stuff is on the other side.” “Oh.”

It was all delicious.

By sarah (see more of her posts). You can find more of sarah's writing at her own website The Delicious Life