Tuesday, May 13, 2003
By LAWRENCE HAJNA
Courier-Post Staff
Each spring, a little culinary delicacy unfurls from South Jersey's leaf-littered forests.
Fiddleheads.
Culinary delicacy may be, well, a bit subjective.
But this plant, actually the shoots of ferns, has drawn people of Asian descent from all over the region to the Pinelands for years.
So I launched a quest for fiddleheads, or, more importantly, for the denizens who scour the forests in search of them.
First, a little background. Fiddlehead is a generic name for the sprout of just about any fern.
The sprouts are so named because they pop up with spiral-like leaf heads that resemble the end of a fiddle.
Several fern species grow in the Pinelands. But here the fiddlehead is most likely going to be the sprout of the ubiquitous bracken fern. This species favors the region's dry, sandy soil and is easy pickings along many roadsides.
Locating fiddlehead lovers, however, would be more daunting than finding the inconspicuous little sprouts just starting to poke through the sand.
I was met with incredulity: "I never heard of such a thing."
And sympathy: "I haven't seen them this year, but I know what you're talking about."
The latter was from David Moore, who owns the Green Top Farm Market on Route 70 in Southampton.
"You'll see them on the side of the road, only right now when the ferns are starting to pop up," he said.
"You'll just see a car parked on the side of the road. If you see four or five people bending over with a bag, then you know they're picking something to eat."
I logged more than 200 miles over two days, crisscrossing all the major roads in the Pinelands. And many that were not so major.
I began to deduce that the season may be running late because of the cool spring.
My only luck came early on, when, in a kind of a daze, I almost sped right by two older Korean women picking fiddleheads along Route 72 at the edge of Brendan T. Byrne State Forest.
A brush fire swept through here in the not-too-distant past, clearing fallen leaves and making it easier for Ok Yung and Penny Wagner to locate fiddleheads.
Yung, 72, came to the United States from Seoul, South Korea, about three years ago.
Yung speaks no English and seemed suspicious of my intentions. She cast furtive glances at me while continuing to fill her plastic grocery bag with shoots she plucked from the charred roadside embankment.
Wagner, 60, who "Americanized" her Korean name after emigrating from Seoul more than 30 years ago, did all the talking.
The two friends drove about 90 minutes from their homes in Bensalem, Pa., to pick fiddleheads, mostly to kill a day, Wagner said.
"She was bored, and asked me if we could take a ride," Wagner said, glancing at Yung, still picking.
Technically, it's illegal to pick any plants in state forests, but it's not like anyone was ever hauled away for picking fiddleheads.
By summer, the ferns will blanket these woods with frilly fronds, giving the forest floor an almost tropical appearance.
The shoots, on the other hand, are, at best, unassuming. Certainly nothing you'll notice while driving down the road.
"The secret to finding them? A lot of times we just drive over and just get out and see," Wagner said. "A lot of times they're under pine trees."
Which, of course, is just about everywhere in the Pinelands.
Russell Juelg is a naturalist and survivalist who works with the Pinelands Preservation Alliance, an environmental group.
Picking the shoots probably does little or no damage to the ferns, he said. Shoots in an area as big as 40 square yards may all come from one complex, interconnected rhizome system, he said.
"Besides, (bracken) ferns are so abundant, I can't imagine it being a problem," he said.
Juelg has eaten many odd, woodsy-type things. He doesn't necessarily rank fern shoots among his favorites.
Some can be downright unpalatable; the bracken shoots are well, rather, blah, he said.
"They're just kind of gummy, sticky," he said. "They don't have a lot of flavor to them. If I had to compare them to anything, maybe they're a little like a raw yellow squash. It has a peculiar consistency, a little like over-cooked okra."
Of course, Juelg has only tried them raw.
Yung and Wagner boil them - not once but twice, "like spinach." The club-like tips fall off, leaving clumps of cooked stalks.
They add butter, sesame oil or other seasonings to serve the fiddleheads as a side dish with rice or traditional Korean foods.
Ferns, of course, are found all over the world.
"When we were young, we ate a lot," Wagner said. "Now they're so hard to find."
So what do fiddleheads taste like?
"Very good," Wagner said. "A lot of Asian people like them: Chinese, Vietnamese, Koreans."
No, I mean, what would you compare them with?
"Hmmm . . ."
Long pause.
". . . it tastes like . . ."
Another long pause.
". . . I don't know. Almost like spinach, it tastes like. But flat. A green taste, you know?"
Not really. Guess I'll have to try some myself.
Later.
In the meantime, through intrepid research I found that a gourmet market outside Atlantic City sells the stuff.
Vince Mazzeo, owner of B.F. Mazzeo Gourmet Food Market in Northfield, has fiddleheads delivered by Federal Express every week during the spring. They come in 5-pound, vacuum-sealed bags and sell for up to $10 a pound.
He's been selling fiddleheads for about five years, after seeing them used on the Food Network. Chefs, mostly haute-cuisine types, buy the stuff.
Mazzeo never realized they grow abundantly, practically in his back yard.
"Jersey fiddlehead ferns? Hmmm . . ."
One could almost imagine the light bulb switching on.
His primary supplier is southern California-based Frieda's Inc., which markets ostrich fern fiddleheads that grow wild in eastern Canada.
The ostrich fern, which prefers marshy areas, is one of the few fern species considered safe for consumption. It is not native to New Jersey's Pinelands.
In fact, survivalist field guides and government Web sites warn that bracken fern, although not acutely toxic, contain compounds known to cause stomach cancer. Stomach cancer is a big problem in Asian nations where bracken fiddleheads are widely eaten.
One Canadian government Web site notes that bracken fern fiddleheads are often confused with the ostrich fern fiddlehead.
This said, I figured it was time to try a local fiddlehead for myself.
I pulled over on a desolate stretch of Route 563, somewhere north of Batsto, and pinched off a four-inch-high shoot. I tentatively nibbled the stalk.
It melted in my mouth.
Creamy, was one word that came to mind.
So did grassy, as in chewing cud.
Not entirely bad. But not good either.
Next time, I'll heed Wagner's roadside advice.
"You can't eat it raw," she said. "It's lousy that way."
http://www.courierpostonline.com/news/southjersey/m051303c.htm
By LAWRENCE HAJNA
Courier-Post Staff
Each spring, a little culinary delicacy unfurls from South Jersey's leaf-littered forests.
Fiddleheads.
Culinary delicacy may be, well, a bit subjective.
But this plant, actually the shoots of ferns, has drawn people of Asian descent from all over the region to the Pinelands for years.
So I launched a quest for fiddleheads, or, more importantly, for the denizens who scour the forests in search of them.
First, a little background. Fiddlehead is a generic name for the sprout of just about any fern.
The sprouts are so named because they pop up with spiral-like leaf heads that resemble the end of a fiddle.
Several fern species grow in the Pinelands. But here the fiddlehead is most likely going to be the sprout of the ubiquitous bracken fern. This species favors the region's dry, sandy soil and is easy pickings along many roadsides.
Locating fiddlehead lovers, however, would be more daunting than finding the inconspicuous little sprouts just starting to poke through the sand.
I was met with incredulity: "I never heard of such a thing."
And sympathy: "I haven't seen them this year, but I know what you're talking about."
The latter was from David Moore, who owns the Green Top Farm Market on Route 70 in Southampton.
"You'll see them on the side of the road, only right now when the ferns are starting to pop up," he said.
"You'll just see a car parked on the side of the road. If you see four or five people bending over with a bag, then you know they're picking something to eat."
I logged more than 200 miles over two days, crisscrossing all the major roads in the Pinelands. And many that were not so major.
I began to deduce that the season may be running late because of the cool spring.
My only luck came early on, when, in a kind of a daze, I almost sped right by two older Korean women picking fiddleheads along Route 72 at the edge of Brendan T. Byrne State Forest.
A brush fire swept through here in the not-too-distant past, clearing fallen leaves and making it easier for Ok Yung and Penny Wagner to locate fiddleheads.
Yung, 72, came to the United States from Seoul, South Korea, about three years ago.
Yung speaks no English and seemed suspicious of my intentions. She cast furtive glances at me while continuing to fill her plastic grocery bag with shoots she plucked from the charred roadside embankment.
Wagner, 60, who "Americanized" her Korean name after emigrating from Seoul more than 30 years ago, did all the talking.
The two friends drove about 90 minutes from their homes in Bensalem, Pa., to pick fiddleheads, mostly to kill a day, Wagner said.
"She was bored, and asked me if we could take a ride," Wagner said, glancing at Yung, still picking.
Technically, it's illegal to pick any plants in state forests, but it's not like anyone was ever hauled away for picking fiddleheads.
By summer, the ferns will blanket these woods with frilly fronds, giving the forest floor an almost tropical appearance.
The shoots, on the other hand, are, at best, unassuming. Certainly nothing you'll notice while driving down the road.
"The secret to finding them? A lot of times we just drive over and just get out and see," Wagner said. "A lot of times they're under pine trees."
Which, of course, is just about everywhere in the Pinelands.
Russell Juelg is a naturalist and survivalist who works with the Pinelands Preservation Alliance, an environmental group.
Picking the shoots probably does little or no damage to the ferns, he said. Shoots in an area as big as 40 square yards may all come from one complex, interconnected rhizome system, he said.
"Besides, (bracken) ferns are so abundant, I can't imagine it being a problem," he said.
Juelg has eaten many odd, woodsy-type things. He doesn't necessarily rank fern shoots among his favorites.
Some can be downright unpalatable; the bracken shoots are well, rather, blah, he said.
"They're just kind of gummy, sticky," he said. "They don't have a lot of flavor to them. If I had to compare them to anything, maybe they're a little like a raw yellow squash. It has a peculiar consistency, a little like over-cooked okra."
Of course, Juelg has only tried them raw.
Yung and Wagner boil them - not once but twice, "like spinach." The club-like tips fall off, leaving clumps of cooked stalks.
They add butter, sesame oil or other seasonings to serve the fiddleheads as a side dish with rice or traditional Korean foods.
Ferns, of course, are found all over the world.
"When we were young, we ate a lot," Wagner said. "Now they're so hard to find."
So what do fiddleheads taste like?
"Very good," Wagner said. "A lot of Asian people like them: Chinese, Vietnamese, Koreans."
No, I mean, what would you compare them with?
"Hmmm . . ."
Long pause.
". . . it tastes like . . ."
Another long pause.
". . . I don't know. Almost like spinach, it tastes like. But flat. A green taste, you know?"
Not really. Guess I'll have to try some myself.
Later.
In the meantime, through intrepid research I found that a gourmet market outside Atlantic City sells the stuff.
Vince Mazzeo, owner of B.F. Mazzeo Gourmet Food Market in Northfield, has fiddleheads delivered by Federal Express every week during the spring. They come in 5-pound, vacuum-sealed bags and sell for up to $10 a pound.
He's been selling fiddleheads for about five years, after seeing them used on the Food Network. Chefs, mostly haute-cuisine types, buy the stuff.
Mazzeo never realized they grow abundantly, practically in his back yard.
"Jersey fiddlehead ferns? Hmmm . . ."
One could almost imagine the light bulb switching on.
His primary supplier is southern California-based Frieda's Inc., which markets ostrich fern fiddleheads that grow wild in eastern Canada.
The ostrich fern, which prefers marshy areas, is one of the few fern species considered safe for consumption. It is not native to New Jersey's Pinelands.
In fact, survivalist field guides and government Web sites warn that bracken fern, although not acutely toxic, contain compounds known to cause stomach cancer. Stomach cancer is a big problem in Asian nations where bracken fiddleheads are widely eaten.
One Canadian government Web site notes that bracken fern fiddleheads are often confused with the ostrich fern fiddlehead.
This said, I figured it was time to try a local fiddlehead for myself.
I pulled over on a desolate stretch of Route 563, somewhere north of Batsto, and pinched off a four-inch-high shoot. I tentatively nibbled the stalk.
It melted in my mouth.
Creamy, was one word that came to mind.
So did grassy, as in chewing cud.
Not entirely bad. But not good either.
Next time, I'll heed Wagner's roadside advice.
"You can't eat it raw," she said. "It's lousy that way."
http://www.courierpostonline.com/news/southjersey/m051303c.htm
