Читать книгу Nothing More Comforting - Dorothy Duncan - Страница 6

You needn't tell me that a man who doesn't love oysters and asparagus and good wines has got a soul, or a stomach either. He's simply got the instinct for being unhappy.

“Saki,” pen name of Scottish writer Hector Hugh Munro

If we in modern Canada welcome spring with open arms, consider the emotions of our ancestors when those first signs appeared — whether in the sky, the streams, the forests, or the fields. Earlier generations of Canadians were longing not only for fresh food but also for plants that could be used as remedies to restore them to good health and to replenish their depleted medicine cupboards. Whether First Nations or newcomers, they had endured an endless winter of dried or frozen foods that had somehow survived in storage, but many of them were well aware of the deaths among their neighbours and friends in late winter and early spring from diseases now known to have been caused by vitamin deficiencies. How welcome were those first tiny, green shoots of rhubarb (pie plant to our ancestors), asparagus, fiddleheads, dandelions, and other edible plants that today we consider weeds, as well as the early herbs that braved the melting snow.

From region to region, that special something that is a harbinger of spring often varies widely. In Eastern Canada, one of the most important signs is the fiddlehead, as the tiny, curled frond of the Ostrich Fern is commonly called. Fiddleheads grow in many parts of eastern Canada as well as in Quebec and Ontario in early spring after the annual freshets have subsided, and they have now become a favourite with gourmets around the world.

When the first Europeans arrived in Canada, the Maliseet (Malecite) First Nations were living in the river valleys of southern New Brunswick and southern Quebec. These natives utilized every aspect of their environment to improve their way of life, including using local wild plants for food, medicines, and dyes. They not only harvested and ate the Ostrich Ferns that they called mahsos, but they also painted pictures of them on their birch bark canoes and wigwams, showing the high regard that they had for this plant as a medicine and as a food. The natives taught the newcomers how to hunt for this delicacy along the riverbanks after the floods had subsided in early spring.There were, and still are, among the natives of New Brunswick, many legends about them, and if you are very quiet while you search, you can actually hear the ferns growing as they push aside twigs, branches, and dried leaves to emerge from the damp earth.

For the United Empire Loyalists arriving in Eastern Canada over two centuries ago and desperately searching for food in an alien land, fiddleheads provided a means of survival. Peter Fisher, writing in Sketches of New Brunswick in 1825, captures that desperate search for food:

The men caught fish and hunted moose when they could. In the spring we made maple sugar. We ate fiddleheads, grapes and even the leaves of trees to allay the pangs of hunger. On one occasion some poisonous weeds were eaten along with the fiddleheads; one or two died, and Dr. Earle had all he could do to save my life.

Fiddleheads need only a little trim, a rinse in cold water, and a short sauté in butter to be ready for the table. The search for fiddleheads still goes on to satisfy a growing Canadian and international demand, and as the plant has not been successfully cultivated in other countries, it remains a North American celebrity.

In western Canada many wild plants, such as Lambs Quarters (pigweed) and the dandelion, are eagerly sought, just as they have been for generations. In the days of settlement the perennial roots of dandelion would be dug up, even in winter, to extract the juice for a patient, to be followed by a steady diet of the tiny young leaves of the plant as soon as they appeared in the snow. Both the roots and the leaves can be used in salad.

Dandelion Salad

Dig up the very young dandelion plants before they bloom. Wash the leaves and white crown well. Soak in cold, salted water until ready to use. Cut up and toss with wild onions and two or three slices of well-fried bacon cut into small pieces. A simple dressing of equal amounts of vinegar and the bacon fat warmed together can be used. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. The leaves of young plantain and clover may be substituted or included in this salad.

The newly grown roots of the dandelion are also tender and can be peeled with a sharp knife or potato peeler.They can be sliced crosswise and boiled in two waters (with baking soda added to the first water). Drain, and season with salt, pepper, and butter. Dandelion roots are also an excellent substitute for coffee, but that is another story.

Another of the surest signs of spring is the appearance of fresh asparagus. Prized by epicures since Roman times, asparagus takes its name from the Greek word asparagus.The name first appeared in English about 1000 A. D. A member of the lily family, there are more than one hundred different species, including the African asparagus ferns that are grown as ornamental plants. It also appears in different colours; however, the most popular is the well-known green vegetable with the succulent stalks. Eagerly awaited each spring in the local markets, it is recognized as a diuretic and one of Nature’s remedies after a long, hard winter.

It is not known how asparagus reached the New World, although given its popularity in Great Britain and Europe, it was a natural stowaway on the sailing vessels crossing the Atlantic. It appears in many cookbooks of the eighteenth century in “economical” recipes, usually in combination with other ingredients. A representative example is in The Complete Housewife or Accomplish’d Gentlewoman’s Companion, written by Elizabeth Smith in 1727.

Asparagus Soop

Take twelve pound of lean beef, cut in slices, then put in a quarter of a pound of butter in a stew pan over the fire, and put your beef in.

Let it boil up quick till it begins to brown, then put in a pint of brown ale, and a gallon of water, and cover it close. Let it stew gently for an hour and a half. Put in what spice you like in the stewing and strain off the liquor, and scum off all the fat.

Then put in some vermicelli, some sallery, washed and cut small, half a hundred of Asparagus cut small, and palates boiled tender and cut. Put all these in and let them boil gently till tender. Just as ‘tis going up, fry a handful of spinage in butter and throw in a French roll.

Asparagus appears to have continued a favourite with the well-to-do in the nineteenth century, for printed cookbooks contained recipes for it in soups, garnishes, and purées, on toast, and in combination with other ingredients. In fact, The Home Cook Book, compiled by Ladies of Toronto and Chief Cities and Towns in Canada and first published in 1877 in Toronto to benefit the Hospital for Sick Children, contains a recipe that is hauntingly familiar to its British counterpart 150 years before, although the portions are smaller:

Asparagus Soup

Three or four pounds of veal cut fine, a little salt pork, two or three bunches of asparagus and three quarts of water. Boil one-half of the asparagus with the meat, leaving the rest in water until about twenty minutes before serving; then add the rest of the asparagus and boil just before serving; add one pint of milk; thicken with a little flour and season. The soup should boil about three hours before adding the last half of the asparagus.

We are fortunate that, in many parts of Canada, we can enjoy some spring delights all year long. There is nothing that can really match their perfection when fresh. Look for them in the wild or in your market, general store, or roadside stand and enjoy these centuries-old treats that herald the arrival of spring.