Last night Bill had to make room in the freezer for his pancetta and guanciale, so he pulled out all the chicken bones he’d been saving and made stock. Today he typed “chicken broth” in the Cooks Illustrated search and browsed the soup recipes, settling on a Vietnamese-style soup.

The recipe adds smashed ginger, smashed garlic, star anise (Bill substituted fennel seed based on pantry availability), fish sauce, soy, and a bit of sugar to the stock, brings it to a boil, adds the boneless, skinless chicken thighs and simmers. Bill also added a strip of lemon zest to mimic a bit of lemongrass. After ten minutes at simmer, remove and slice the thighs. To serve, layer noodles, napa cabbage and chicken in the bowl and ladle in the broth. Top with an array of aromatic garnish–sliced green onions, cilantro/coriander, torn mint, sliced jalapeno and a squeeze of lemon (no limes at Tesco!).

Bill called it faux phở.The recipe was from a series on enlivening canned chicken broth, so starting with homemade broth made a wonderfully flavorful soup. We adore cilantro and eat it at every opportunity. Some Thai basil would also be great in this soup, as would some bean sprouts.

I’ve learned a bit about carciofi alla giudía since I first tried one on Friday.

I had heard about fried artichokes, but it wasn’t until I saw the waiter carrying a golden brown flower across the room that I realized how much I desired one. What I wasn’t sure about was how to eat it.

When my bloomin’ carciofi arrived I started munching the crunchy petals.  “Can you eat the leaves?” Bill asked. “Um, I guess so,” I said, my mouth full of crispy artichoke. In the moment I had forgotten completely that artichokes are usually broken down into tiny spoons with a tasty bit scraped off of each tip. “If you can chew it,”Bill said, “I’d say you can eat it,” establishing a new culinary maxim. (Well, it was true in the moment at least.) So we crunched away on the tasty artichoke chips, which provided a great contrast to the juicy heart. And the waiter didn’t look shocked when he collected the empty plate.

I later looked up a carciofi alla giudía recipe and learned that the harder outer leaves are trimmed before frying. And all was confirmed when I saw vendors trimming artichokes  at the market yesterday.

It’s artichoke season and the market was piled high with crates of artichokes still on their stems with large dark green leaves. In addition to trimming artichokes into these lovely blooms, I saw a few vendors shredding the stems.

Like so many things, artichokes taste great deep fried, and you can eat the whole thing.

Bill with the guanciale we brought back from Rome. Bring on the pasta all’amatriciana and spaghetti alla carbonara! We also brought back pancetta, some cheeses (Provolone, Ricotta Salata, Fontina, Grana Padano), and of course Paprika Pringles.

Note: Borrowed this super cute image from the Zingerman’s mail order site. They offer guanciale from La Quercia in Iowa.

Fragments of stone at in the portico of Santa Maria Church in Trastevere. These are possibly from early Christian grave markers.

Pizza at Da Vito e Dina–Bresaola with rocket/arugula and Parmesan. A terrific thin crust, crispy but not crumbly. Bill had mushrooms and “meat pig,” which turned out to be a tasty sausage. This was preceded by antipasto of cured meats, bread (basically a pizza crust with rosemary–amazing), fried things like suppli, and Carciofi alla Giudia, a fried artichoke. Accompanied by a 7 EUR liter of  very drinkable house vino.

Anyone know if you’re supposed to eat the leaves of fried artichoke? Because I did.