Foraging for Food

….or getting down to the root of it all.

Earlier in February I attended a lecture at the Florida Natural Plant Society on edible wild plants. The speaker, Peggy Sias Lantz, stood on a little raised stage with a table in front on which were buckets full of various types of greenery. She had gathered all of them from her own backyard (she has a very large backyard.) She would muck her hand about in a bucket, extract a plant, root and all, and talk about how to recognize it, when to eat it and how to prepare it. Some bits were good in salad, others tea, some had berries, others edible roots. As she went along she added anecdotes about feeding wild things to her family and also cautionary tales of what not to eat. It was a most informative evening and the next morning on the way to my compost bin I was most excited to spot a leaf that I recognized from the lecture. I was certain that this was the leaf of one of the items she passed around the room which smelled for all the world like a good A&W root bear. Mmm, homemade root beer coming right up.

These were without a doubt the leaves of an edible plant.

I knew without a doubt that these were the leaves of an edible plant.

I read that root beer could be made from sassafras, camphor, or smilax. On looking at leaf shape I discovered that my backyard treasure was indeed smilax which is also known as wild asparagus or sarsaparilla vine. What great names; sarsaparilla and sassafras. I was excited enough by having the opportunity just to say the words out loud, let alone have a new food source. The book said that the tea or beer is made from the knobby root which grows deep and to be careful of the sharp thorns on the vine. Okay, I thought, sarsaparilla tea coming right up. The book also informed me that the new tips could be eaten right off the vine so I thought I might try one or two of those.

I pulled the root and there ’twas: the tuber of my root beer dreams.

Smilax aka sarsaparilla.

Smilax aka Greenbrier aka sarsaparilla.

I had trouble snapping the vine so I pulled it down off the tree on which it was climbing. The tips were disappointing. They tasted like ‘green’.

The beginning is the root in my hand, the tip is the mess of green leaves on the ground over by the live oak tree. Oops, can't call it ground, no ground there; just sand and dreid leaves.

The beginning is the root in my hand, the tip is the mess of green leaves on the ground over by the live oak tree. Oops, can’t call it ground, no ground there; just sand and dried leaves.

I took it inside for closer examination. Just couldn’t wait to cut into it and smell that sarsaparilla.

Another view of the precious root.

Another view of the precious root.

 

It cleaned up nicely.

It cleaned up nicely.

 

and I sliced it open.

and I sliced it open.

Turned out to be another of life’s little disappoinments. I held the sliced root to my nose and sniffed. Nada. It just smelled like ‘wet’. I sniffed harder, then I licked it. Apparently Albert and Walter had left the building. I knocked it on the counter a few times to see if that would loosen up the smell. Nope. There was more smell to a peeled potato. Perhaps the flavour only developed with heating.  I looked up the recipe. It told me to take a large Greenbrier root about the size of a medium potato. It required chopping and soaking and boiling and sitting in the fridge for a week. It also required, along with sugar and carbonated CO2, 1/8 of a cup of pure vanilla. No instant gratification to be had here. Besides not having a large enough root I was without the 3 gallon keg to make it in. So I put the project on hold.

In the meantime, Lance recalled that the root that I had smelled at the lecture was camphor, which the lady said was very similar in flavour to sassafras. I could find hide nor hair of that in my backyard nor could I find a large Greenbrier root. It will have to wait for another day. I did find a way to satisfy my cravings for the time being. The farmer’s market we frequent carries birch beer; the first time I have seen it anywhere outside of Newfoundland and it is only a dollar a can. I shall stock up and sip it while I plan a Greenbrier hunting trip.

IMG_7342Bottoms up.

© Judy Parsons 2016

Leave a Reply