Wheelchair Gallery Going, Cardoons, & Memories of CicadasAt the Boston Museum of Fine Arts in late April, we were taking my mother-in-law around in a wheelchair (her legs are weak but workable). As we approached a traveling exhibit of El Greco and Velazquez, she decided to walk for a while, and I decided to sit in her chair for a second. Then…a guard opened the door for me and I was faced with the choice of either getting up, slightly embarrassed, and walking in…or I could roll in on the wheelchair. I opted to go with the wheelchair. Sometimes I like putting myself in challenging situations.
Here’s a shot of my legs, sitting in the chair, as I pondered if I should get up, but with every second that passed, I realized I was less and less able to leave the chair and betray my charade.

I saw some people shooting photos elsewhere in the museum, so I shot a few pix of this still life; I dug the cardoons – that’s the pinkish looking stuff in lower left of frame.

After I stuffed my camera back in my shirt, a guard came over to apologize that shooting photos, even without a flash, was verboten in this particular exhibit. I think he cut me a break by letting me finish shooting before stopping me – thanks, I believe, to my wheelchair. At one point, there was a huge statue of Saint Theresa, and it flashed through my mind that I could wheel up to the statue, kick back my chair and shout, “I can WALK again!!” But that struck even me as going a bit too far.
One major advantage of wheelchair gallery going is that because it takes an effort to move, you are more likely to sit in front of paintings and appreciate them more completely; in a wheelchair, it’s hard to just cruise past works of art and give them just a cursory glance. You have to sit and look, which works well because when you’re in a wheelchair, people don’t step in front of you.
Somehow, viewing El Greco from a wheelchair seemed oddly appropriate, as the artist himself was allegedly visually handicapped (though I don’t think his alleged “condition” was any more real than mine).
Shortly after my trip, I planted some cardoons in my garden. Here they are now.

To prepare them, I figured frying would be good, so I cut off the spines:

I gave the pieces an egg-wash and dredged them in flour:

I used a little Fry Baby to cook them up. We last used the fryer last spring to prepare several batches of Brood XIII; when my daughter walked in, she asked “Dad, are we having cicadas again?” I do not believe any other father in the area has ever been asked that by his child.

The Wife and I sat down to a lunch of cardoons, some fried sage leaves and a little vino. It was good.

The cardoons had a slightly bitter but fresh taste that meshed well with the lightly fried batter crust; moist and crunchy, astringent and rich, complemented by a soft red wine. They did, though, look a little like cicadas.
Hammond
"Don't you ever underestimate the power of a female." Bootsy Collins