Fiddle me this

Yes, you can eat them

By Jill Strauss

INFANT FERNS Best eaten smooth and dark green, not furry.

The only thing more challenging than finding a fiddlehead forager in May who is willing to be interviewed is finding plentiful supplies of fiddleheads when you want them. And the only thing more challenging than finding bountiful amounts of edible ostrich fern is getting my 75-year-old best friend, Allan, who was born and raised in Maine, to come over and eat even a few of them. I must be blessed, because in spite of the obstacles, I have achieved all of these things.

My quest began one evening after my dear friend made the mistake of telling me that he felt fiddleheads were without value. His admission shocked me since I have never known him to dislike anything edible. In fact, he once told me that his grandmother, a farmer’s wife, took in a boarder who repaid her with fresh killed raccoon. To show her appreciation for the gift, she apparently stuffed, baked, and served it. Allan said the meat was almost black, but “we ate it. If it didn’t bite back, we ate it.”

Fiddleheads were also given to Allan’s grandmother on occasion. “I think she boiled them or stewed them,” he told me.

“How long did she stew them?” I asked trying not to sound judgmental.

“It’s not that they were nauseating or hair curling,” he said in defense of his grandmother’s treatment of the spiral morsels. “It’s just that they were kind of bitter and furry and I’d rather not pay good money for them ever again.”

I didn’t want to mention this to Allan, but fiddleheads should be smooth and dark green when picked, not furry. They also have a thin protective layer, which must be removed. You can do this through repeated soakings in cold water followed by double blanching in boiling salted water. I decided to go in search of “Matteuccia struthiopteris” and prove to my friend that when cooked properly, the wild fern is every bit as delightful as asparagus (a green vegetable that I know he enjoys). “They’re mild; in fact, they taste a bit like asparagus,” I told him when I suggested he come for a dinner I was preparing that would feature fiddleheads.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something great,” he said encouragingly.

I began my search by contacting a famous forager in North Belgrade, Maine. This in itself is an amazing feat. Foragers are notorious for being incommunicado, especially the second week in May when the brief fiddlehead season is, in some parts of Maine, at its peak. Nevertheless, Joe Doucette spoke to me from his log cabin house a few days ago while he was waiting for his deer roast to cook. Doucette, who has been a professional fern picker ever since he retired from the Scott Paper Company 17 years ago, told me he does not deliver to Southern Maine, but he would wait supper for me if I wanted to come up and join him and his family. He also offered to take me foraging in his canoe along a secret waterway if I promised not to flinch whenever I had to deal with a black fly, which he guaranteed would be often. I thanked Doucette for his generosity, but turned down his offer. “I could use a good recipe for cooking fiddleheads, if you wouldn’t mind sharing that,” I told him.

“Just boil ‘em for five minutes in a pot with a couple cubes of bouillon. Strain the fiddleheads and serve with melted butter, salt, and pepper. Or, if you like vinegar, put a few drops on ‘em.”

Following my conversation with Doucette, I headed over to my favorite produce store, The Portland Greengrocer on Commercial Street. “Sorry, Jill,” John Naylor, the store manager said. “We’re all out of fiddleheads. I think our forager is done for the season, although he did just deliver some nice ramps.” I bought the wild onions and some dried morel mushrooms and headed for the Whole Grocer on Marginal Way, but I had no better luck there. At last, in desperation, I pulled in to Shop ‘n Save on Forest Avenue. Prominently displayed in the produce section was a huge box of tightly coiled fiddleheads. “You’re in luck,” John Merrill, the produce manager said sweetly to me. “These just came in from New Hampshire. They’re triple washed, membrane free, and they’re $3.99 a pound.”

I bought two pounds and headed home. I trimmed the tails and boiled them in bouillon the way Joe Doucette suggested (Allan kindly conceded that they were neither bitter nor furry). Then I tried a more sophisticated approach. I blanched the fiddleheads in boiling salted water, then shocked them in ice water. Next I made a “beurre fondue” (a quick butter sauce) for the fiddleheads, ramps, and reconstituted morels. While they simmered for a few minutes in the sauce, I seasoned some sole and added it to the sauce to poach. Finally, I garnished the dish with chives and watched as Allan cleaned his plate. He said the meal was every bit as good as the raccoon his grandmother used to make and that he now had a different opinion of fiddleheads. With compliments like that it’s no wonder I love having him over to dinner.

Jill Strauss can be reached at straussj@adelphia.net.