In Season NW: Learning to Love Weeds

Growing up, anything that was growing in the yard that wasn't identifiable as grass was declared a weed and was summarily yanked or sprayed or otherwise executed on the spot. Not to say that in our zeal we didn't occasionally rip out one of my mother's prize peonies or a ranunculus or two. And all of us knew from repeated finger-shaking lectures that all weeds were poisonous and would cause painful convulsions followed by death if eaten. Period.

That impression was only fortified later on when there was a flurry of dandelion winemaking resulting in a foul-tasting brew that wasn't even worth drinking for the buzz from the alcohol. So imagine my confusion when I visited my soon-to-be-relatives in Maine and they served up a pile of little green swirls they called fiddleheads, the tiny furled fronds of ferns that were gathered next to icy streams with exotic names like Meduxnekeag.

Suffice it to say that from then on I put childish things behind me and became fascinated with all edible "weeds" to the point where, if I saw some growing in a parking strip, I'd stop dead in my tracks, checking for any telltale signs of marking by dogs, and pick and eat one then and there, much to my son's chagrin.

One of these, claytonia perfoliata or miner's lettuce (above left), is now being grown by several vendors at the farmers' markets in much more sanitary surroundings, and I try to pick up several bunches when I see them. Recently they formed the bed of a beet salad that I served with a pork and couscous tagine, providing a colorful contrast as well as a satisfying crunchiness to the sweet richness of the beets.

Roasted Beet Salad with Miner's Lettuce and Honey Mustard Dressing

For the salad:
3 medium-sized beets
1 bunch miner's lettuce or other leafy greens

For the dressing:
Juice of 1 large lemon
1 1/2 Tbsp. honey
1 tsp. whole-grain mustard
1/3 c. extra virgin olive oil

Preheat oven to 400°. Wash beets to remove any dirt clinging to them. Wrap each one, drizzled with a bit of olive oil, in a piece of aluminum foil and place in small roasting pan or glass baking dish. Roast for approx. 1 hour, testing occasionally with a fork. When tender but not mushy remove from oven and cool. Cut in 1/2" or smaller cubes and place in medium-sized mixing bowl.

Combine the lemon juice, honey, mustard, and olive oil in a jar with a tight-fitting lid. Shake until well combined. Alternatively, place the lemon juice, honey, and mustard in a bowl. Whisk to combine. Add olive oil in a slow, steady stream until dressing is emulsified.

Pour dressing over beets and mix to combine. This can be done ahead and refrigerated until ready to serve. Make a bed of the washed and dried miner's lettuce or other greens, top with a pile of the cubed beets and serve.

In Season NW: There's a Fern in My Pizza!

The very first trip I made to Maine to meet my future in-laws, they made sure I tried genuine Kennebec and Katahdin potatoes grown in Aroostook County (in Maine, it's just called "The County"). They made sure to emphasize that their potatoes were grown in the rich, rocky soil of New England, unlike the potatoes grown in Idaho that they disdained as being "grown in sand."

Of course they made sure I had lobster a few times, too, sweet and luscious and served whole in the shell, unlike the odd bits mixed with other seafood I'd grown up with, included only so the restaurant could justify doubling the price of the dish. But the real revelation of the trip was an odd little green shaped like the scroll of a violin, the unfurled fronds of a young fern that are gathered along streams in the spring.

As with nettles, these first little sprouts of green that appeared in the spring were no doubt greeted with great relief by people living in northern climes who hadn't had any fresh vegetables for several months. With a flavor reminiscent of spinach and a crunch like celery, they make a great appetizer (and conversation piece) simply sautéed in olive oil and sprinkled with salt. Add bacon and shallots for a side dish or to serve over pasta.

Or do what we did: sauté them and scatter the fiddleheads over a homemade pizza for a seasonal twist. You can find them at the farmers' markets now and they should be available for the next month or so. Oh, and they also freeze quite well if you want to test any potential relatives when they come to visit.

In Season: Fiddleheads!

I was introduced to this short-lived spring green by my in-laws, former farmers in the tiny town of Houlton, Maine, often known as the coldest place in the nation in winter. They were shocked (shocked!) that I'd never had the curly delicacy that tastes like a crunchy version of spinach and is found along most streams in that state. And we were both relieved when I asked for seconds.

Norma Cravens of Springwater Farm near St. Helens gathers them on her property along with spring nettles and gorgeous maitake mushrooms. She sells her produce to several restaurants, including Nostrana, but you can find her at several of the Portland-area farmers' markets. Fiddleheads will only be around for another week or so, but if you hurry you can have these wild green treats before they're gone.