All great heroes have enemies. Peter Pan had Captain Hook. Mario had King Koopa. Hillary Duff had Lindsay Lohan. I’m no different. I, too, wage a daily battle against a wily and ruthless adversary.
Yeah. Its artichokes. But they started it. Let me explain.
Artichokes are basically the bane of my existence. The chef I work for is obsessed with artichokes. He puts them on, in, or somewhere near what seems like every single dish. I’m surprised we don’t use them as centerpieces. I’m surprised we aren’t called ‘Chokes’. Some days I just want to march into the kitchen and ask him what’s the deal with all the artichokes. But then I remember he owns the place and is much larger than me.
The thing is, I love artichokes. And in all fairness, many great heroes harbor deep love for their antagonists. Like how Carrie loved Big. I mean, she married that piece of shit. Even after he jilted her the day of the wedding and left her in front of the NY Public Library with that dead bird on her head. Why in the hell did it not work out with Aiden? He was just as tall and he made furniture and now he does voice overs for Applebee’s and like 9 different drug stores so you know he has money. Even that Russian ballerina guy who beat her in Paris would have been a better idea. Carrie is so dumb. Just sitting at her laptop in her little apartment, wearing boy shorts and typing out vapid narrative, making inane pop culture references…
Sorry. I just had a white girl stroke.
Artichokes. I know they are delicious and I eat them all the time. When I was little, my parents routinely steamed them with creamy, drippy, GMO-loaded cheese sauce that I would have drank out of an old Tom & Jerry Edition jelly jar had they let me. My problem with artichokes is that they are a bitch to pair with wine. They contain an acid called cynarin that actually makes wine taste sweeter. Likes 4 packets of Splenda sweeter, all artificial and Diet Rite-y.
Grilling artichokes will actually cut the cynarin levels by up to half, evening out the playing field a bit. After that, go as dry as you can. Sauvignon Blanc or Chenin Blanc come to mind. But, the princess of my little Francophile heart is the best bet here: Tavel rosé. Greanche dominant, this babe is dry enough to withstand a tad bit of sweetening. And its crisp, berry forward notes makes it a perfect BBQ wine. You can drink it while your chokes grill.