Fenocchio

[…] Since buried she lay in a deep bed of Oysters, He’d live on “Fenocchi,” and die in his Cloisters! […]

But at all times the place is worth a visit to those who can admire flat scenery, and the artist will delight in the Cuyp-like effects of the oxen and horses and groups of pilgrims (for some are here always) seen against the delicate aerial mountain distances; and in the beautiful colouring of the plain, pink with asphodel in spring, or golden with fenocchio.

Most of his ‘town poetry’ was written in the village of Twickenham where, in between fits of composition, he was out in his garden looking to see how his broccoli were springing up, or if the ‘fenocchio’ was sprouting.

Pray aſk Mr. Synge whether his Fenocchio be grown; it is now fit to eat here, and we eat it like Sellary, either with or without Oil, &c.

A boy is climbing up a wall to pick the golden oranges which are hanging over it; beneath, a flock of chickens are pecking at a sieve filled with almost more golden Indian maize; and through all this collection of life when we were there, the priest, in purple cassock and white pellerine, was moving from house to house, pronouncing his Easter benediction upon the furniture and cooking utensils, and followed by a man with a large basket to receive the dole of eggs, saffron-cakes, and fenocchi, which he expected in return.

The novelties of fenocchio and broccoli seeds Swift probably got from Pope, who in turn may have had them recently from Italy by way of the Earl of Peterborow.

Florence fennel [fenocchio (F. vulgare var. dulce)] — the bulbous leaf base, separates into licorice-flavored stalks.

“Tomatoes, lots, so I can make fresh sauce. Cabbage, onions, fenocchio, eggplant, green beans. Too much for me to cook.”