We fed on furled fronds from a fledgling fern; fantastic they were.
The S.O., a female, fawned over the ferns since arriving in Maine from further south.
“Can you grab some fiddleheads in your travels? Please. I can’t get them down here,” she said.
“I am waiting for the roadside sellers, dear. None have revealed themselves, and I don’t have time to gather a mess so you can be fed your fill when you fly home.”
“Fine, I’ll pick some up at the grocery store, but they are five times the price.”
She estimated high but wasn’t too far off the per pound price. That’s what you get when you refuse to scour the stream banks of some waterways a little north of home.
We either went’ fiddleheading’ or went on a three-day beach vacation. For this year, she determined she would get sand rather than mud between her toes.
Well, yesterday, she found a feed of ferns at our neighborhood grocer. She bought more than we needed, but seconds sometimes become thirds, so it was a wise decision.
She walked into the house, holding them up like she’d caught a world-class Atlantic salmon using only a stick, string, and hook. By the way, that’s illegal unless you are only making a written comparison.
“Look at these beauties,” she said.
Suddenly, apple cider vinegar became something that I must have misplaced, at least until she looked in the lower cupboards where we had stored a couple of liters.
I stood affirmed; no one throws out the vinegar. No one.
We were having chili, which was good. However, I pointed out that the results of chili and fiddleheads might have gastric consequences. We went ahead with the plans.
Matteuccia struthiopteris—or, for those who cannot pronounce it, Ostrich ferns are what Mainers (and others) call fiddleheads. They are delicious. But only when they are young and fresh.
After chili, we savored the tightly curled fronds of young ferns, their taste and texture a delightful surprise.
This is not surprising to us, as we are fiddlehead aficionados; you should try them if you are rooting around Maine over the next few weeks. If you have trouble identifying the treats, do a little research, as some people end up with the wrong kind of fern, which can leave you very unsatisfied and feeling a bit silly.
Butter is more important than apple cider vinegar, but you’ll have to argue that with your housemates. I like a little vinegar, but not a lot. Salt and pepper are your friends.
Ask permission before you go rummaging around on someone else’s stream bank, too. Felonious fern frolicking is frowned upon.
From the Jagged Edge of America, I remain,
TC
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