Artichokes and lemonade in Rome

Our time in Italy is passing slowly by. Today we took a walk to the Jewish quarter, once the Jewish ghetto. We tried a dish I'm already dreaming of making when I someday have a house and a yard to cook in. Fried artichokes. They just fried the entire artichoke until it was golden and crispy. They threw some really tasty salt on it and served it with a lemon wedge. Yummmmmmmm! I'm not a foodie or a food writer or a restaurant critic or anything like that. I just like to eat tasty things and this was tasty to me. So first, I need a place to cook that's not going to get all hot because I'm cooking indoors. Then I need some good artichokes. I guess I'll have to grow some but I don't even know what climate they grow in and I don't know where I'll be living. So, I'll deal with that later.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to cook as little as possible in this heat. I never really was taught how to cook at home. My father cooked in our family and he learned to cook the food he ate in the army. Lots of sloppy, heavy, creamy food full of beans and meat. Guess that's why my brothers and I turned out so hearty. "Beans, beans, they're good for your heart, the more you eat 'em, the more you fart, the more you fart, the better you feel, so let's eat beans for every meal!" I can still hear Jeremy Simmons, our neighborhood pal, and my brothers singing that song at the table. Anyway, putting together something that can pass as a meal, from an American standpoint, and not using a heating device is pretty hard unless you're only making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I can just say that the Italians and the Turks have got things right. They're not dying off from heart disease, diabetes, etc. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think I've discovered the answer to all America's obesity problems. Just turn off the air conditioner and don't use your microwave, stove or oven to make food. There's no way you can fry yourself anything. There's no way you can eat too much because raw stuff gets boring after a while. Just a tip from a fellow American who regularly eats for pleasure.

 Sherman is trying to make money so he can buy a quadcopter. I told him he could have 5% of the grocery bill if he does the shopping for me during our stay in Italy. He's all for it, but tonight I needed a lemon for a salad so I called him over and told him I needed him to go to the store for a lemon. He said he also wanted some lemons to make lemonade. I said okay, buy more than one. Buy a whole bag, that's fine. So he goes. He comes back with a bag of oranges. When I see them I realize that my kid is blind. Look at his glasses. First, we need to take him to the eye doctor every year and he's six months behind schedule, and second, his glasses are always dirty. Poor kid! I said, Sherman, these are oranges, not lemons. To make a long story short, Sherman made lemonade in the end. He found the bamboo stick and convinced his dad to hit some of the lemons off the tree that he was too short to reach. He was pretty proud of his lemonade.