Artichokes are my favorite vegetable. Ever since I was young, they seemed more than any other veggie, an event. You have to work for the delight at the end. When I was about ten years old my whole family was sitting down to a dinner that included that most delicious artichoke and while we were eating I found a worm inside mine. A giant, ruinous worm. I of course stopped eating and no matter how much my parents tried to convince me there was artichoke left to eat, I was done with it. From that night on whenever I ate an artichoke I was leery of finding such a giant worm inside, ruining not just my dinner but just the peace of such a simple enjoyment.
Three nights ago I made artichokes for myself. Cleaned, trimmed and steamed them, sat down and started to dig in. On the second choke, a quarter of the way in there was a giant worm. I sat back for a second, then I just ripped off all of the leaves, cleaned off the choke and ate down that heart. Now, to do that when those ruinous worms of everyday get stuck in my head and in my way. Rip past them and eat the heart out of life.