zesty_pinto | Adventures in Fiddlehead Thievery (Reply)

For the next day, I proposed we look for places outside of Chittenden where ostrich ferns grow. Given how a significant amount of interest in fiddleheads has to do with the Bhutanese population there, it only makes sense to go where they don't normally go as well to lower the competition. So we propose going to another park, this one much further down. I also proposed exploring some other locations, but I think Michelle really wanted to get some extra walking in (I only found out the other day that she has enlisted in some office walkathon competition and honestly would have helped push her deeper into it if I knew beforehand).

So an hour in and we go down and... first off, this park is full of couples. Like, everywhere there's couples. I think I saw maybe two families and for a tourist attraction location like this, it's surprisingly sparse. Okay, maybe not that surprising since it's early in the season and once it kicks into summer it's going to get nuts.

I remember we saw ostrich ferns there before and we do see them; most of them are in fact, unfurled and bathing in glorious but inedible greatness. So, okay, we get some walking in at least? We make it all the way to the end and I remember how there's this path that takes you further in along a beaten path and I definitely remember ferns there too, so we go, where human feet dare not tread (unless it's summer). There, we find the motherlode. Lots and lots of fiddleheads, they're big ones too and no one's touched them. Even while abiding by the "take only 30% of the plant" rule (I'm even stricter and only take one or two per grouping), I still make off with two pounds in fifteen minutes. Along the way up back the trail, past a phantom growl of some sylvan guardian, we end up resting by a sign where I noted that no plants or animals should be taken from this area. Whoops.

Michelle has already taken it to mean we must be extra sneaky about it. I'm just thinking we should look for plots closer to home that aren't as well-tread. To be fair, even if we decide to become poachers by trade, the paths itself are pretty deep in so no one will notice, and I try hard not to make sure the plants are killed from this, but I would rather do something that doesn't make me sympathize with poachers, so yeah.

But since forgiveness is easier than asking permission, we brought the bounty back. Thirty minutes washing. And washing. And washing. And my hands are now colder than ~~the president's-~~ice. As cold if not colder than ice and we won't bring yet more politics in here, thanks.

Removing the flakes from the fiddleheads is a pain in the butt, but then there's prepping the bottles. Sterilizing. Prepping the spice mixes. Overloading pots with a 1:1 ratio of water to vinegar and topping it with a tablespoon per bottle.

The most amazing thing about this is that I did the one thing I never thought possible and got all the amounts perfect enough to fill up all the bottles, only missing a few ounces of brine.

I also took photos. Which I would gladly share if image sharing was easier on here.

Edit: Fine, I'll use Smugmug this time, but these images came out utterly mundane.

Those were a pain to wash, but I'd do it again if it meant another two pound crop.

Herbs and spices and all that other stuff!

Finally, the one *one!* photo that I am willing to share of the park that I think isn't completely awful. Actually, I can think of a bunch of comp issues I have with it, but just showing it because postprod makes it not as terrible, imo.

If you think these are bad, be glad I didn't share the shots I did get of the park itself; beautiful place to wander through (apparently enough for couples to come and make out to), but my body and lens combo did it no justice here.

Anyway, thanks to this, not only canned some fiddleheads, but also did a spicy balsamic brine with some onions and some carrots. Really looking forward to see if they come out anywhere as decent as the ones some of the restaurants in here carry.

Oh, and thanks to Michelle, I have dishes to use again. Because not unlike that machine from "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs," I create food, but by spreading disaster in my wake along the way. And now, I sleep. I think?