“Artichokes, the perfect start to an intimate dinner, have been enjoyed for centuries.  The simple act of stripping an artichoke of its leaves, dipping those leaves into sauce, and scraping off the tender flesh with your teeth is a very sensual experience.”—Colleen Patrick-Goudreau, Vegan Table

My husband and I invited our friends, Leah & Patrick, over to celebrate the first of the month and the beginning of the Vegan Table month-long exploration.  We chatted over glasses of Tempranillo, and I served steamed artichokes and olive tapenade (both recipes from VT), along with a crusty sunflower seed bread.  When I brought the artichoke to the table, surrounded by streams of tapenade and a generous drizzling of flax oil for its omega 3 benefits, ooh’s and ah’s rang out across the living room.

 “What is it about an artichoke that makes it seem so decadent?” Patrick pondered.

 “Perhaps,” I wondered, “it’s because we didn’t grow up eating them.  It was a special discovery later in life.  There’s also such a curiosity about them.  How did anyone figure out that the heart could be eaten, and just the inside of the leaves?” 

 As we all broke off pieces of the artichoke, sliding them across the oil or deep into the salty richness of the olive tapenade, it occurred to me that eating an artichoke with friends is very much a shared experience.  In our usual American cuisine, everyone has their own plate, their own sauces, everything is separate.  Whereas, in other cultures, you see people quite literally coming together over food.  In Ethiopia, they’re scooping up stews together with injera.  In Italy, they’re nibbling on a shared slab of polenta.  In Spain, they’re eating paella from the same pan.  When you bring friends together, and eat from the same plate, there is an excitement and camaraderie that comes with it.  It brings out a playful spirit within us and a connectedness.

 At that point, the rest of the appetizers needed to come out, and the men went to help me in the kitchen.

 “You’ve left me alone with the artichoke,” Leah whimpered helplessly from the table.

 When we returned, many more discarded artichoke leaves were piled in front of her and a guilty look flashed across her face.  Perhaps that’s the other reason why everyone should be advised to stick around when communal plates are served.  When a single person is left alone to face something that inviting, all bets are off.