In Rome, Stop and Taste the Artichokes

“Order carciofi,” (pronounced car-CHO-fee), is what I tell travelers who ask for advice about Rome. Sure, you can run around oohing and aahing over the Forum, Colosseum, and Sistine Chapel, but for the True Roman Experience, you have to stop and taste the artichokes.

From late February to early May, overflowing crates of these green and purple-tinged beauties from surrounding farmlands begin to appear in the Eternal City. Signoras in smocks sit in the open air Campo dei Fiori market, peeling Carciofi Romaneschi with their tiny knives, as if they’re made of butter.

In season, every traditional restaurant has artichokes on their menus. They prepare them two ways: Alla Romana — stuffed with garlic and herbs, then slowly braised, to savory, tender perfection, or Alla Guidia, flattened and deep-fried, transformed to glistening deep gold flowers.

It’s the Alla Guidia I’m dreaming of when the plane lands, just in time for lunch. It’s a warm enough April day, a few suspicious clouds, but nothing dims the thrill of my first sight of umbrella pines, burnt orange stone buildings, broad Roman faces . . .