Soft and crisp at the same time. It sounds like a contradiction, and it is the one thing that separates a well-made jar of artichoke hearts from a limp one.

These grow in open fields in Italy and are gathered across a short season. Each is cleaned and cut by hand, which is slower than the machines most producers rely on — machines tend to leave a few of the tougher leaves behind. What reaches the jar is the tender part and very little else. Three hundred jars of this size were filled from this year's harvest.

They are blanched in Chardonnay and white wine vinegar, the method the original recipe called for before wine was swapped for water on cost alone. The wine rounds the acidity and draws the artichoke's green, faintly nutty flavour to the front.

This is the jar for a table with people around it. Warm the artichokes briefly, fold them through hot pasta with a spoonful of their own oil and plenty of parmesan, and supper is done.