Romanesco Artichoke

Carciofo Romanesco del Lazio is a protected geographical indication, registered in 2002. It covers two local ecotypes, Castellammare and Campagnano, and their clonal selections, grown in the provinces of Rome, Viterbo and Latina.

The head is spherical and tightly closed, large at 300 to 450 grams for the apical one, green with violet shading at the base of the bracts. The bracts are broad, fleshy and packed together, and in heads cut at the right moment the choke inside is barely developed.

The defining feature is that it has no spines at all: no hooks on the bracts, none on the leaves. That changes the work in the kitchen completely: you can prepare one bare-handed in a minute, and the edible yield is far higher than from any spiny variety.

Roman vocabulary distinguishes two things that get muddled abroad. The cimarolo is the apical head, the one at the top of the main stem: biggest, most tender, first to ripen, and the only one suitable for carciofi alla giudia. Mammola is the Roman name for the round spineless artichoke in general, used in markets as a synonym for cimarolo. The lateral heads that follow are smaller and go to preserving in oil, frying and sauces.

This is the artichoke with the greatest cultural weight in Italy, because two of Rome's best-known dishes depend on its shape. Without a round, closed, spineless head, carciofi alla giudia simply cannot be made.

Clean, green and nutty, with the characteristic pleasant bitterness of a good artichoke and a mineral finish. Milder and sweeter than a spiny Sardinian artichoke, less grassy than a Californian globe, with a fuller and rounder flavour than a small purple violetto.

The texture is the case for it. The bracts stay tender well towards the outside, the heart is dense and creamy rather than fibrous, and the peeled stem eats like a continuation of the heart. Fried the Jewish-Roman way, the outer bracts turn brittle and crisp like autumn leaves while the centre stays soft.

One thing worth knowing: artichokes contain cynarin, which temporarily suppresses the sweetness receptors on the tongue. Whatever you drink straight afterwards will taste sharper and thinner than it really is. That is chemistry, not a fault in the wine.

Cleaning is quick because nothing pricks. Pull off two or three rings of outer bracts, cut two fingers off the top, peel the stem with a vegetable peeler, and drop everything into water with lemon juice. Do not leave it soaking for hours or the flavour leaches out.

Carciofi alla romana: spread the bracts open, pack the centre with chopped mentuccia, garlic and salt, stand the heads upside down in a narrow pan with oil and water halfway up, cover, and cook gently for forty minutes. Mentuccia is Calamintha nepeta, not garden mint, and with peppermint you get a different dish.

Carciofi alla giudia: apical heads only. Trim in a spiral down to the heart, keeping the flower shape, then fry once in plenty of oil at moderate heat to cook the inside. Drain, press the head down upside down to open the bracts, then fry again very hot for a few seconds. The outside shatters like a dry leaf; the heart stays soft.

Vignarola is the spring stew that puts them in context: artichokes, fresh broad beans, peas, romaine lettuce and guanciale, cooked down slowly.

Also battered and fried, baked with eggs into a tortino, stewed into a sauce with lamb offal, or laid on pizza bianca. The peeled stem is as tender as the heart: never discard it.

Buy them with the stem on and leave it on: a trimmed head dries from the cut. In the fridge, stand them in the salad drawer wrapped loosely in a damp cloth or a paper bag, or stand the stems in a glass of water like flowers, and they hold three to five days with the bracts still closed. Do not wash or trim until you are ready to cook. Once cut, the flesh browns within a minute, so drop everything into water acidulated with lemon.

An artichoke is a flower bud and it keeps trying to open. Over days the bracts loosen and splay, the tips dry and darken to brown, the stem goes woody and hollow at the cut, and the internal choke develops from soft down into wiry fibre. The head loses weight steadily as it dries. Freezing raw does not work, but blanched or cooked hearts freeze well, four to six months in a sealed bag, and Roman cooks also keep them under oil after cooking. In a shop, a bunch tied together with the stems long is the fresher offer.

The Romanesco is round, almost spherical, with a flattened or slightly hollow top rather than a point, and it has no thorns at all: the bract tips are blunt and rounded, so you can hold the head in a bare hand. The bracts are soft and tightly packed, green washed with violet, and the head sits on a long thick stem that is left attached, because the stem is as tender as the heart. The choke inside is minimal on a young head. The whole thing feels heavy and squeaks when squeezed.

What most shops abroad sell is the Green Globe, the Californian type: conical rather than round, with tough fibrous outer bracts, sharper tips and a substantial hairy choke to remove. Provençal and Venetian violets are the other thing on the counter, small, pointed and purple, and they are eaten raw. Season narrows the field further, since the Roman one runs from February to May. Look for Carciofo Romanesco del Lazio IGP on the crate or tag, with cimarolo or mammola marking the large flat topped apical head. Expect $4 to $8 each abroad.

Fresh Romanesco artichokes rarely leave Italy, and the season is short. In Lazio they are sold by the head: 1.20 to 2.50 euro each for cimaroli, half that for lateral heads, or 4 to 8 euro per kilo, with prices highest in February and again in late May. Elsewhere in Italy add about fifty per cent.

Abroad the realistic purchase is hearts preserved in oil from Italian producers, sold by delicatessens and importers such as Eataly and Gustiamo in the US and Italian specialists in the UK. Expect 8 to 14 dollars or 7 to 12 pounds for a 280-300 gram jar, which works out at roughly 12 to 20 dollars per pound of drained artichoke.

Look for the full wording Carciofo Romanesco del Lazio IGP with the EU mark. Carciofo romano, mammola and cimarolo on their own describe a type, not a certified origin.

Buying fresh, judge weight against volume, take heads with at least ten centimetres of stem, and squeeze: a fresh artichoke squeaks. Reject any whose bracts have begun to splay open.

Rome, and specifically the Ghetto, where Jewish-Roman cooking invented carciofi alla giudia and the restaurants along via del Portico d'Ottavia have been frying them for generations. Carciofi alla romana, by contrast, are on every trattoria menu in the city from March to May, from Testaccio to Trastevere.

Ladispoli, on the coast north of Rome, holds the country's oldest artichoke festival in April: fried, roasted and stuffed cimaroli eaten in the middle of the fields that grew them.

Sezze and Priverno, down on the Pontine plain, run their own spring festivals, and at Velletri and in the Castelli Romani you can look for carciofi alla matticella, cooked whole over a fire of vine prunings. That is the rarest version and the hardest to find.

Timing is everything. March and April are when the cimarolo is on the table, and the cimarolo is the reason to make the trip. By June the Romanesco season is over and whatever is on the menu came from somewhere else.