It was my turn to buy the food for the youth group; each week we cook dinner together as a part of our meeting. This afternoon, the supermarket had fiddleheads on sale, so I bought some along with everything else.
Emma, the other advisor, said, “You always bring such interesting food when you buy.” Jarrod looked at the fiddleheads skeptically; they do look pretty weird, coiled up heads of ferns cut before they can grow into those tall fronds. Alyzza just chopped garlic.
“Interesting food?” I said.
“Yeah,” said Emma, “Like you brought in the parsnips a couple of months ago. I don’t think I’d ever eaten parsnips.”
I thought about it. I guess it’s true: most people in these United States don’t eat parsnips or fiddleheads. Why do I? “I guess it’s because Carol and I keep trying to eat locally grown food,” I said. “Parsnips are just about the only vegetable that you can dig all winter. And I really don’t like fiddleheads all that much, but they’re really the first green vegetable you can get in the spring that’s local.”
We sauteed the fiddleheads in olive oil with lots of garlic. “About a third of the population has mild allergic reaction to fiddleheads,” I announced as we dug in to the food.
“Great,” said Emma, who’s an R.N. “When I go into anaphylactic shock, you can drive me to the hospital.”
“Well, maybe it’s not a full-blown allergic reaction,” I said. “Sometimes I get kind of an itchy feeling inside my mouth. Besides, you’re a nurse — oh wait, guess you can’t do first aid on yourself if you’re in anaphylactic shock, can you?”
We all tried the fiddleheads. They weren’t very good. They never are.
“They taste kind of like asparagus,” said Alyzza.
“Kind of,” I said. They just taste like leaves to me.
Emma actually had seconds. We talked about it later: fiddleheads must have tasted pretty good when you hadn’t had any fresh green vegetables all winter long. I suppose now we are spoiled by having fresh produce shipped in from California at a great expenditure of jet fuel. Even so, I think the only reason I’d eat fiddleheads is because they remind me of spring; but not because they taste good.
I had fern heads in Hawaii that were rather tasty. I’ve never had them on the mainland though. I’ve thought about it when I walked through the redwoods and the ferns were head height though.
On PeaceBang’s blog she was raving about them as her new favorite vegetable.
Oh, well — taste is taste….
I’ve never had them so I have no opinion. What kind of ferns are they? Or is the plant called “fiddlehead”?
People grow and eat fiddleheads??? wow, you learn something new everyday…
I guess the next time I see some in the swamps, I should go and check to see the harvesting and cooking instructions……
Jeeze dan. Fiddleheads are baby ferns. Man. Cut down in their youth
and all that. And Ferns are so good for the whole transpiration thing.
Well, sigh, whatever.
Kim: In this part of the world, according to the Wild Food Trailguide, you can eat the young fronds of both Ostrich Fern (Pteretis pensylvanica) and Pasture Brake (Pteridium aquilinum); but it’s the Ostrich Fern that produces the classic tightly curled fiddleheads. I would imagine that in other parts of the world, there are other edible ferns that could be called fiddleheads.
Fiddleheads are quite the staple this time of year where I grew up (Central Maine). Usually, however, they are gathered, not grown. In fact, you have to be careful during fiddlehead season while driving, so that you don’t run into collectors on the side of the road. people will park their cars and walk inot the woods to see what they will find. I like fiddleheads with lemon and garlic. They also make a nice soup. Then again, having grown up in the MOXIE capital of the world (Lisbon Falls, ME) I also like that. Maybe it is a regional-identity thing…
Dan, STEAM THEM FIRST!!! You have to steam them before you sautee them or else they just taste like weird rubbery green dirt.
For about eight minutes. THEN sautee them.
PB — I used to steam them, but I didn’t care for them that way. So now I saute them. Guess it’s just personal taste. Or the fact that you’re probably a better cook than I.
Adam — The soup idea sounds interesting. Wanna share a recipe?