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Eat leeks in March and wild garlic in May, and all the year after physicians may play. — Old Welsh Rhyme
If you’ve been reading this column for any length of time, you’ve discovered that my favorite kind of garden tends itself. That’s why I love early spring so much.
Mother Nature is hosting her annual free food party. The first course is dandelion greens, gathered fresh and tender and served with a warm dressing of vinegar and eggs. My mother-in-law, Geneva, called dandelion greens her spring tonic. The first time she put them on the table I was pretty skeptical. In the city I was taught that anything that grew in your yard was toxic. I guess maybe with all the chemicals used on a lawn that’s true, but apparently in the country almost anything green is fair game.
One of my neighbors had a different spring tonic. She often asked us in early spring for permission to walk the edges of our cornfields to look for poke greens which grow in disturbed ground. She said that you should wear gloves when gathering and never gather leaves that are longer than six inches. Then she told me that poke is poisonous and should be boiled a couple of times to remove the toxins before the final prep. I have to say that I never got past the word “poisonous,” so couldn’t tell you whether the greens are good or not. Eat at your own risk.
Ramps appear next. They are a cross between a wild onion and wild garlic and are visible as bright green patches on otherwise duff brown mountain slopes. Ramps are considered a real treat and there are festivals to celebrate them, but because they are so pungent, I don’t eat them very often.
When the ramps begin to fade, the asparagus poke up. For me, spring isn’t really here until the peepers sing and the asparagus rise. I have discovered a secret wild asparagus patch where the spears are as big around as my thumb. It’s in one of our meadows and the sheep feast on it until the end of March. Then they are moved out to mountain pastures, and it’s mine. Planted by birds, those asparagus are far better than the ones I grow in my yard.
At the same time that we pick asparagus, we also start hunting for morels. The first time I ate one of these wild mushrooms I tossed and turned all night, sure I would be dead in the morning. I grew up on mushrooms wrapped in cellophane, and I wasn’t sure a wild one could be trusted. But, morels are pretty safe to pick since there aren’t any other mushrooms that resemble these brainy looking fungi. They grow in abandoned apple orchards and old growth ash groves.
I am a terrible mushroom finder. I don’t have mushroom eyes like my oldest son, Justin. Morels disguise themselves by looking just like the patches of withered leaves where they grow, but still I love the thrill of the hunt. We like them dipped in batter and deep-fried, or sautéed and scrambled with eggs.
When the morels are finished, it’s time for the rhubarb from the old patch in Geneva’s abandoned garden. It’s also time for the wild strawberries that grow on the brow of my hill. These two spring foods compliment each other when baked in a pie.
Once the wild strawberries are done, then the party is over. It’s time to look to my own tame garden for lettuce and peas. While I love to eat things I’ve grown, my heart will always be with food that comes from God’s hands to my mouth. I love to eat where the wild things grow.
