Branzino with Roman Artichokes

Having tasted the real deal in Rome with my mother in January, I decided to have a go at recreating  the delicacy that is Roman Artichokes myself. With a full explanation of how to clean the item in question from Katie Caldesi's cookbook and a fairly simple looking recipe, I was feeling fairly confident and as you can see, nothing went pear-shaped and all in all it looks like a nice supper for one:

However, I still came away feeling a little underwhelmed about the whole experience. Firstly, the misleadingly named 'fluff'  found at the centre of these glorified thistles got under my fingernails making minuscule pinpricks as I tried to remove it, making space for the parsley and mint stuffing. This then stung when I coated the artichokes in lemon juice to stop them going brown. Secondly,  having stripped them of all of the tough outer leaves, it is rather unrewarding to have so little to eat for the amount of effort and time cooking required and to add insult to injury, the end result served only as reminder of the fine line between subtlety and blandness. I don't know what I had found so delicious about them in Rome, perhaps it was the martini beforehand that did it, but tonight my artichokes were decidedly dull in comparison.  This was highlighted further when put in contrast to the  mouthwateringly succulent European  bass (Branzino) I had cooked to accompany it, which wasn't  exactly an overpowering competitor.  It was cooked  in a pan with onions, lemon and orange segments and white wine, all things I had left over anyway. Perfectly simple and perfectly satisfying.

Verdict: perhaps this is my laziness rearing its ugly head, but I've decided that artichokes are best left in restaurants where some poor slave does all the prep for you and somehow manages to render the stalk as tender as the baby leaves themselves.


#'The Italian Cookery Course' by Katie Caldesi
#Ristorante La Taverna dei Monti, Via del Boschetto, 41 (Via Nazionale), 00184 Roma