From Forest to Table

 

A fiddlehead is a fern in early spring, before the front unfurls. The name comes from its resemblance to the scroll of a violin. Picked at that stage, steamed and then sautéed, it has a flavor somewhat similar to asparagus but much more subtle. This was only my second year harvesting them, and I carefully cut only one or two per clump (sometimes only one if there were only two or three), wanting to anticipate fiddleheads for many years to come. 

I am not one to sneer at conventional wisdom when it comes to wild foods, so I followed online instructions and steamed the fiddleheads for 10 minutes before draining and patting them dry and adding them to butter and olive oil in a skillet I had already used to sauté sliced mushrooms. Added the mushrooms back to the skillet to warm them before serving. Topped with freshly grated Parmesan and freshly squeezed lemon juice. That was the first course one night.

I had gathered enough fiddleheads that we didn't eat them all the first night, so the next evening I sautéed additional mushrooms and made a cream sauce, resulting in the perfect accompaniment to panfried fresh lake trout. I didn't realize until I looked at the photo later that the chicken on the dish looked like it was falling off a cliff. Oh, well. Dinner was good!

Soon the toothwort blossoms will be open, and I'll gather leaves and flowers for salad.

Start with a Mistake

 

--But that can't be an instruction, can it? I mean, if you do it intentionally, it isn't a mistake. My mistake was at the store, when I bought the can of crushed tomatoes rather than diced or whole for homemade chili. But they worked out okay, maybe especially with the pinto beans I use now (instead of kidney beans) for their creamy texture. Still, the chili only needed half the can. 

So a couple nights later I fried up half a dozen strips of bacon, drained and broke them into pieces. Sautéed onion and mushrooms. Added the cooked bacon...

...crushed tomatoes, salt, oregano, herbes de Provence, and simmered for a long time. That is the not-so-secret secret: long, slow simmering.

Served over tortellini with grated Parmesan cheese, the resulting dish was perfection. And perfection being the moving target that it is, it's pleasing to hit it once in a while.