Fettuccine with Artichoke and Lemon

Two birds on Monday (artichokes and fava beans). Two birds!

My eyes searching. My brow crinkled. My lips pursed. FINALLY. I zeroed in. Three boxes left. $3.69 a box. Are you kidding? If we can't get the best fresh, the alternative has to be frozen. And so it is. One box purchased.

Subject: Monday

I went out at lunch, found the frozen artichoke hearts at Giant. Do you want to try fettuccine with artichoke tonight? Keep it simple—lemon, salt, pepper, olive oil, etc.

I wonder how they'd taste in red sauce...

Or we can do something with them tomorrow.

Subject: Re: Monday

That's cool...we can wing it tonight.

...

The door bell rang. I'd better hurry, else they'll think the door bell is broken AGAIN.

"Sorry! I was upstairs." I said.

Zara was bucking like a bronco at the end of her leash. Roberto's mother tried to steady her while handing me a large bag of pale green fava.

"Oh, wow! How much do I owe you." I asked.

"Don't worry about it." She said.

"I found the artichokes today." I said.

"Birds Eye?" She asked.

"Yep, at the Giant." I said.

"Santoni's has them too." She said.

We said our goodbyes as the drizzle started to drop. There would be no walk for Zara.

...

The base was simple. Aglio e olio. Roberto took the reigns.

"We should probably chop these up a bit." He said.

"You're probably right." I said.

And lemon perfumed the air as the pasta was dropped. We both kept tasting and testing the artichoke.

"It's lemony. Let me know if it needs anything." He said.

"It's good." I said.

While my twirling skills are more than adequate, Roberto is always one step ahead, planting seconds into his bowl just as the last strands encircle my fork (give me short and witness grayhound speed).

"I'll buy the last two boxes tomorrow." I said.