40 in forty: Write thank you notes and check in

40 in forty bit of wisdom today: write thank you notes! If you have kids/spouses who don't already, make them write thank you notes too.

If you like paper, treat yourself to some beautiful stationery and a pretty pen that isn't terribly prone to smudging. If you couldn't care less about these objets, stick with your basic note pad and ballpoint; the point is the thought behind and appreciation in your words.

A terrific thank you note needn't be overly long. It simply needs to be personal and reflective: why do you like what you've been given or had done for you? How have you enjoyed it, or how do you plan to enjoy it?

In this harried time, connection with others is easier than ever in many ways but often more superficial. Receiving a sincere, well-considered letter of gratitude slows everything down for a moment, allowing the person who thought of you first to both enjoy anew his or her lovely action and know how appreciated that action was. 

Tangentially, if you know or suspect that someone is having a tough time, check in. You never know how much a hug (real or virtual), quick text or call can help and mean.

Extra bonus: sending notes of thanks and reaching out to others will make you feel fabulous!
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Rome is too beautiful not to share, so I'm foisting more photographs upon you. 

in Trastevere

An elderly woman watches out over a Trastevere piazza. I love her pink shawl.

Artichoke crostini; a delicious part of lunch.

artichokes at the campo dei fiori market

I never tire of these colors. Lawd a'mercy.

Oven-roasted artichokes

During our supper club meal on Tuesday, I sat next to a woman who grew up in Rome. We got to talking about Italian artichokes and signed very dramatically (also, accurately) over the fact that you simply cannot get in America, the small, tender chokes that abound in Italy. Both of us desperately wish we could. 

I've written about this before, my adoration of Italian artichokes and my sorrow over having to make do with American Globes which never really cut the butter. 

But, when spring comes and fresh artichokes with plump stems can be found, we who long for their continental brethren make do as best we can.

The woman from Rome told me about spending a recent Easter there. Artichokes were everywhere, and she ate barrels of them. Carciofi alla giudia ("Jewish style") which is a deep-fried artichoke and originated in Rome's Jewish community, and a version of carciofi alla romana, hers braised in olive oil rather than steamed in water and wine.

Last night, I peered into my crisper drawer and pulled out the two enormous chokes I'd bought a few days prior. I got out a sharp knife and a serrated spoon, the better to trim the spiky leaf tips and clear the thistly hair from the heart. I set up an acidulated water bath so that before the denuded hearts could brown, I could dunk them into a lemony pool. And I got out my heavy Lodge and a big vat of olive oil.

I picked some mint and basil and chives and parsley from my garden and chopped them fine. Mixed them with crumbled feta and pressed garlic and salt and pepper. Took a deep breath because my god did that concoction smell heavenly. And then I stuffed half into each cored out artichoke and sealed them up tightly once more and put them stem up in a shallow pool of olive oil that I'd poured into my Lodge.

After a couple hours in the oven, regularly basted with oil, these beauties emerged, and I ate one today for lunch.

I ate it while standing up, leaning over the bowl which sat on my cutting board, and I closed my eyes and gently gripped each leaf between fingers and teeth and pulled. Ever so slowly to get just the tender knob of chokey flesh from the end, and of course I saved the best for last which is the heart.

It was perfectly cooked; al dente, really. Its herby feta hood paired scrumptiously with the heart's earthiness, and I savored each bite.

Not an Italian choke, but prepared like one made it suffice just fine.

Italia: Day 3

I feel profoundly happy to not be covered in pet hair right now. This is a surprising aspect of my happiness right now, and one of which I'm enormously aware. I have not had to lint-roll myself since Monday morning! Tremendous. Happy Thanksgiving, American family and friends. Elia loves Thanksgiving so we are having a small one here. This morning, we went back to Mercado Centrale to pick up a few remaining items for tonight's meal, including our turkey from the turkey guy. Look at the sign they have hanging over the stall.

I inquired about the somewhat odd placement of the Stella di Davide, and the guy said, "I don't know. I'm Palestinian so it's not mine." His colleague said, "I think an American girl made this for us. It's about 15 years old now."

The whole thing tickled my funny bone.

Artichokes and porcini mushrooms are in season now- can you even get over the size of these mushrooms?? And the artichokes could not be fresher or more stunning, yes?

For lunch we decided on lemon and ricotta ravioli and a kale salad with apples, Parmesan and walnuts. These ravioli render you certain of dying of bliss. Dressed with a simple lemon butter sauce, each bite is a cloud of perfection.

Our apple pie is cooked, the veggies are roasted, the turkey is in. I made a cipollini confit, and we're making a cornbread dressing too. Hope you are all happy, healthy and well. Warmest wishes from across the pond.