“Though plucking artichoke leaves doesn't mend all cracked spirits as firmly as pea shelling, it has its own curative power. There is a Dutch saying: “Bitter in the mouth cures the heart.” If you happen to have a friend shaken by heartache, hand over a bag of raw artichokes. Once she has relieved them of their leaves, encourage one brave bite. Between the meditative peeling and the bitter taste, she should be completely healed. If there are no artichokes around, raw dandelion greens are a good substitute.”

“At least you'll never be a vegetable - even artichokes have hearts.”

“Remind me to tell you about the time I looked into the heart of an artichoke.”

“He has 'le coeur comme un artichaud'. Eddy fumbled for her high school French. 'A heart like an artichoke?' 'Oui. He has a leaf for everyone, but makes a meal for no one.”

“My immune system has always been overly welcoming of germs. It's far too polite, the biological equivalent of a southern hostess inviting y'all nice microbes to stay awhile and have some artichoke dip.”

“Humph.” She peered down suspiciously as he parted the leaves to reveal the choke. “That doesn’t look very tasty.”“That’s because it isn’t,” he said. “Pay heed: the artichoke is a shy vegetable. She covers herself in spine-tipped leaves that must be carefully peeled away, and underneath shields her treasure with a barricade o’ soft needles. They must be tenderly, but firmly, scraped aside. Ye must be bold, for if yer not, she’ll never reveal her soft heart.”He finished cutting away the thistles and placed the small, tender heart on the center of her plate.She wrinkled her nose. “That’s it? But it’s so small.”“Ah, and d’ye judge a thing solely upon size alone?”She made a choking sound.”