To me, the first day of Spring is just a number. The real season begins with a certain feel and fragrance in the air―an emotion, which poets and writers have attempted to capture on the page since the beginning of time. The robin has been here a while, the geese have long returned in numbers, and the lizards have crawled out from under their rocks to sun themselves. In my gardens, the broccoli has bolted, the kale and collards have flowered out, and the beets are beginning to wear out their welcome. But I know that spring is truly here when my first artichoke blossom has sprung up among its downy, serrated leaves.

Many people remember well their first tryst with the artichoke. But some, like myself, are pretty sure we were fed them from a bottle, way before our first memories. I do remember a couple partings-of-the-way, though―when I was six and lost my bottom teeth and again as a young adult with braces. Horrible times, both, but I only grew to appreciate them even more. There is just something so satisfyingly tactile about tugging those tough leaves through the teeth, trying to scrape off every single bit of that creamy, olive flesh. And oh! my disdain harbored for neophytes, when glancing at their pile of gnawed leaves―I am irked by the waste due to the lack of skill!

Although there are lots of gardeners here in the Valley who successfully grow artichokes, there are many more who have never seen an artichoke plant this far inland. How majestic and stately they stand with their graceful, arching leaves, as we drive along the Coast on our travels to Monterey for a weekend of seascape, fine dining, and romance. We are sure to find them there on any menu, prepared in a variety of delicious and interesting ways, to tempt even the most bucolic of palettes. Yes, artichokes do best on the foggy California coast, where they stay fresh and misted by the cool, moist climate.

But what if you didn’t have to drive all the way to the Coast to fully appreciate this most heralded flower bud? What if you didn’t have to refinance your home to be able to afford them in the supermarket? What if you could just step out to your backyard and snip off half a dozen blooms to toss into a steamer for dinner? Well, here in the Central Valley, it is not only possible but quite easy. We are actually lucky, since growers in other parts of the country have to do some crazy stuff to coax chokes to grow and bloom. In colder regions, they are grown as annuals, started from seed indoors, and live for only one season. In those frostier areas, they must be put outside in the cold air for an hour or two each day, in order to trick the young seedlings into thinking they have braved the winter so they will set buds. But here in sunny California, they are grown as perennials, having a life cycle of at least three years, and are generally propagated by division of roots.

If you think you might like to begin an artichoke amoré of your own, you can easily start them from seeds in the fall, as well as purchase plants from most reputable nurseries. Artichokes are heavy drinkers and feeders and need a little TLC to help them survive the sweltering Central Valley summers. But other than that, they are pretty easy to grow. Although Green Globe is the standard California artichoke, there are several other varieties that do quite well. We can actually thank the ardent Italians for the introduction of the first edible artichokes, and those ancient romanesco varieties are still cultivated today. Another Italian variety, the small, purple Violetto, is becoming increasingly popular.

I am envisioning contrasting green and purple inflorescence on a plate next to a small dish of Real Mayonnaise, or a bowl of my savory yogurt Ranch dressing. But ultimately, my favorite way to consume them is simply steamed and drizzled with Extra Virgin Olive Oil, balsamic, and a light dusting of Italian herbs, salt and pepper. It seems once the season finally begins, I cannot satiate myself of this most beauteous, ambrosial blossom. But alas, by the end of the season, the romance is waning and I am giving bags of them away and thinking I never want to see another artichoke again. The spring courtship may be over, but I’m totally okay with that, as now begins the tempestuous summer affair with the zealous zucchini.