L'Italo-Americano

THURSDAY, APRIL 18, 2019 www.italoamericano.org 12 L'Italo-Americano A s another Passover approaches, house- wives stroll up Via Portico d'Ottavia, beside the faded arches and Corinthian columns of the Theater of Marcellus and beneath the gleaming aluminum dome of the Great Synagogue, to buy artichokes in Campo de' Fiori. Armed with wicker baskets, leather purses, and iPads, they haggle with the carciofàre, the market's artichoke cleaners. Seat- ed among tubs of lemony water, these cackling old women with stained but nimble fingers quickly pare the outside leaves, turning the globes as if they were on a lathe. Artichokes, which come into season in late February and grace the pantry until early summer, emblazon the signs and decorate the tables of the restaurants in the Ghetto, dating back to the first century BCE. The most popular item is carciofi alla giudia, Jew- ish-style artichokes. Whether served as a snack, an appetizer, or a side, this deep-fried dish, the ultimate soul food, ignited a war between Rome and Jerusalem to rival anything in Josephus. Last April, the Chief Rab- binate of Israel, declared arti- chokes not kosher and banned all imports. While not distinguishing artichokes grown in Israel and other Middle Eastern countries from those grown for the Italian market, the Rabbinate specifically referred to the way cooks prepare the vegetable for Rome's Jewish community, the oldest in Europe. "An artichoke heart is full of worms," said Rabbi Yitzhak Arazi, Director of Imports. "There's no way you can clean it." The Roman Jewish style of frying artichokes, he pontificated, makes it even more difficult to remove the pests. And because worms, along with reptiles, amphibians, and most other insects (except certain types of locusts), are trayf, eating carciofi alla guidia was now prohibited. Roman Jews objected. Gener- ations of Jews have been eating carciofi alla guidia with no spiri- tual or other problems. A kosher food can't lose its certificate. It doesn't work that way! Besides, Roman artichokes are superior to Jerusalem artichokes. Their stems are tighter, their leaves more compact, making them impene- trable to insects. These arguments failed to persuade. The dish can't be kosher, Arazi insisted. This wasn't politics; it was Jewish religious law. Yeshivas petitioned the Rab- binate. Demonstrators picketed the Israeli embassy on the Pincio. Social media was flooded with thousands of posts, from angry diatribes against the diktat to ten- der love poems about carciofi all giudia. Political memes were recycled. "Je suis Charlie," which went viral after the 2015 attacks on the French satirical magazine, Charlie Hebdo, became "Je suis carciofo." One agitator threatened to carve an artichoke on the Arch of Titus. This collective outrage had less to with defending artichokes than with honoring the past, for the origins of carciofi alla giudia are entangled in a history of oppression. When Pope Paul IV confined Jews to the Ghetto in 1555, he banned them from most profes- sions. Since food preparation was one of the few permitted activi- ties, many Jews operated friggito- rie, stalls selling fritti or fritters. Unlike other local fried foods, prepared with pork fat, Jewish fritti were cooked with olive oil, due to kosher rules and to the Mediterranean influences of Spanish and Sicilian Jews, who came to Rome after being expelled from Castile and Aragon in 1492. Having seen their relatives boiled in oil, these refugees became experts at deep frying, as evident in the traditional recipe for carciofi alla giudia. The ingredients may be simple—arti- chokes, oil, and salt—but the technique would have daunted Benvenuto Cellini himself. The trick is to fry the arti- chokes twice: the first time in hot oil; the second time, after a brief cooling, in scalding oil. The ther- mal shock of the second frying causes the artichokes to bloom. When served, they resemble chrysanthemums sculpted in gold: the outside leaves crisp as chips, the inside soft and flavor- ful. Almost no trace of frying oil remains. "We've prepared this dish the same way for 600 years," explains Umberto Pavoncello, manager of Nonna Betta, a kosher restaurant in the Ghetto. Despite last year's ban, carciofi alla giu- dia remains on the menu. "Still, I worry about the souls of all the people who have been eating it over the centuries. I hope nothing bad happens to them." Rome's chief rabbi, Riccardo Di Segni, and Ruth Dureghello, the president of the Roman Jew- ish community, he notes, never made a public comment on the ban, but they posted a photo on Facebook showing them washing and preparing carciofi alla giudia to celebrate Passover. With a wink, Pavoncello pre- sents a plate of fried artichokes to a Conservative Jewish family from Port Washington, New York. "Buon appetito," he says, "and shalom!" Pasquino's secretary is Antho- ny Di Renzo, professor of writing at Ithaca College. You may reach him at direnzo@ithaca.edu. ANTHONY DI RENZO LA VITA ITALIANA TRADITIONS HISTORY CULTURE Carciofi Pasquino fries artichokes Carciofi alla giudia, a typical dish of Rome's Jewish community, may be under threat: artichokes have been declared non-kosher © Tinamou | Dreamstime.com To obtain their flower-like shape, artichokes alla giudia are fried twice

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