Wild Asparagus – Finding, Picking, Eating

First of the season

First of the season

Here it is the first of June and we probably still have another meal of asparagus to pick from our garden. Last night’s supper of mushroom risotto with asparagus was delicious, almost as good as it would have been if that was the first we’d had this year. From our wild crop we’ve already picked more than ten pounds.

Our route runs along country roads over a total distance of about five miles, not too much to cover in an hour or so by bicycle, with most of that time devoted to gliding along looking for the telltale gleam of a new stalk. If we hadn’t been doing this for a few seasons already I’m sure we’d cruise right past most of our meal, because asparagus is hard to spot. It comes up just about the time the new grass is high enough to hide it, and it comes up fast. In a couple of days it’s two or three feet high and branching out, already too tough to eat. You have to be there at the right time.

Growing next year's crop

Growing next year's crop

Even when you know where it is, asparagus can be hard to spot. It’s a slightly paler green than the grass it grows with, and if it’s much taller than the grass you are probably a little bit late. You can snap the stalks any time before they begin to branch out and there will be plenty of tender vegetable, and actually if you pick wild asparagus when it’s only eight inches high, the base will be a bit too tough.

On a windy day, new asparagus stalks stand out from the weeds because they don’t move in the wind like the grass and other plants around them. Different plants sprout at different times, depending on how much warmth they get from the sun, so a north facing plant may be below ground when a south facing plant has begun to leaf out.

It's right there.

It's right there.

The easiest way to find asparagus is to begin about now, when it’s too late to pick. The plants will be obvious, bigger than everything else around them. Locally they may peak anywhere from two feet to eight feet high, and the biggest stalks may be nearly two inches thick at the base. If you spot a good stand of it, jot down some notes and list some landmarks. You’ll probably not need to consult the notebook next year, but it will mark the spot in your mind anyway. Next year when the redbuds begin to bloom, keep an eye on the roadside. Before the leaves open on the hardwood trees the asparagus will be poking through last year’s grass.

I swear to ya, it was this big . . . .

I swear to ya, it was this big . . . .

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The Art of Grazing: Wild Onions

It's only a little dirty . . . .

It's only a little dirty . . . .

At what point in a survival emergency would you begin to forage for wild food? Is it when you first understand that you’re lost or would you wait until you were hungry? How hungry would you have to be?

If you’ve answered anything but that you’d eat when you first suspected trouble, you have a survival attitude that will create serious problems if you ever do get into a critical situation. You can’t wait until you run out of food and begin to starve. You have to do like any wild animal would do, and eat whatever is available when you find it.

I happen to like wild food, especially wild plant food. It’s the easy way to eat. You don’t have to know everything out there, you just have to know what is available in the area where you live. If that’s the same area where you hike, you’re probably an unusual person. Wilderness areas vary considerably in food quantity and type, so learning about the places you’ll visit on vacation is a really smart thing to do, and taking along a guide book for that region’s plants may be a worthwhile investment of weight.

In other times, people knew the lay of the land a lot better than they do now and could forage for plant food even in the winter. You can sometimes spot the dead stalks of edibles like dandelion and wild carrot, and with some strong tools worry the roots out of frozen ground, but the invisibles won’t be found unless you already know where they are. Winter is not a good time to get lost, because in unknown country you’ll be living off tree buds until you find your way home.

This time of year, though, if I got lost in this part of the country I’d be doing fine. Food might be a little monotonous but it wouldn’t run short. We did lose our jobs last year, and work has been come and go since then, but it does give us the time and the reason to go out and forage. We’ve been eating wild onions since they first sprouted in early March. That first pot of vegetable stew, with wild onion bulbs and tops, irish potato and a few seasonings, still sticks in my mind as delicious. Right now in late May the plants are mature and beginning to bloom. The tops are tough now, and the bulbs have gotten a little bitter, but they still add flavor and nourishment to a stir fry or a soup. As the bulblets swell on the flower stems they make a convenient roadside snack and a distinctive addition to a salad.

Wild onions are hard to mistake for anything dangerous. If you have any doubts, crush a leaf or a bulb in your fingers and sniff it. If you smell onion, you’re ok. If you eat enough of them, you’ll smell like onion, too.

Around here, onions grow wild by the ton, along roadsides, in fields despite the plowing and the herbicides, and even in the shade of woodlands. They are one of the first plants up in the Spring and one of the last plants to die down in winter. Changes are that even in the coldest month you could chop open a block of frozen ground and find some.

That’s just one. Walk a few miles around here and you’ll find dozens of plants you can eat. Some of them are delicious, some of them are the sort you’d only eat for education, but there’s always something close to hand.

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Shifting Gears

Modified rig with an extra turn at the heel strap.

Modified rig with an extra turn at the heel strap.

I’ve gone through several different mindsets so far in my barefoot running training.  The first idea I had was that it was impossible and my 57 year old feet would never adapt.  That faded after my third run, which was only a mile but left me feeling like I’d had a great foot massage.  Suddenly I thought it would be easy–but I was wrong about that.  The rest of the summer was a series of small successes and moderate setbacks.  Problems with the huaraches (solved by customizing them to my feet); tendon problems in my calves, treatable only with rest; and a series of strange migrating pains in the arches of my feet as they slowly reconsidered what they ought to be doing for a living.  I was less optimistic at the end of the running season, but still determined.  In spite of the adaptation problems, I find barefoot running pleasant.

Winter is a whole different challenge for me.  When the temperature drops to near freezing I work out inside, because a lifetime of hard labor and dusty jobs has been tough on my lungs.  I don’t like to admit I have asthma and I can usually ignore it, but winter running is like running with no air in the air.  The fun goes out of it quickly.

Treadmills are the substitute for running in my wintertime training, and I don’t find them to be entirely satisfactory.  Mill running is an illusion at best.  You have the movement of running, but you don’t propel yourself anywhere.  You don’t push your body mass up hills–the machine moves your feet for you and all you do is make the motions.  It’s a good cardio workout but it is not the same as running.  Maybe that’s why I don’t take it seriously enough and just do minimal training.  I’d rather be outside.

Spring is always a wrenching shift, when I find out exactly how much fitness ground I’ve lost and what it might be that I did right during the indoor season.  This year it’s not bad.  I’m sure the winter training did me good, this time, giving my body time to heal and reason to keep slowly shifting towards what is natural.  My legs feel much different now.  I have soreness deep in the center of my calves, but it’s not terrible, and it’s outweighed by a strength I feel there now.  It’s like I’m walking on spring steel, and I like that feeling.

How long I can keep it, I don’t know.  It’s so easy to go too far and get the old injuries back.  For both of us it’s been a long chain of recovery and practice and injury again, but we are nearing the top of the hill.

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