Steven Foster – Internet headlines, stories and social media may spark and idea. In such a complex world, a simple message can be a welcome source of inspiration, but when it comes to consuming wild foods, one should approach the subject with cautious attention to detail. For example, you might hear that “fiddleheads” or “fern fronds” are a delicious spring delicacy. That’s a fine idea, assuming that you are getting your news from upstate New York or New England, where Ostrich Fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris) is an abundant edible fiddlehead. But that’s not what we have here in the Ozarks.
The fact is, most of the fern fronds in the Ozarks are only marginally palatable, if not toxic. Edible and palatable, remember, are two different concepts. Preparation is always important, too. Most fern fronds are covered with irritating hairs or scales, which must be rubbed or scraped off the fiddleheads before cooking. Then, depending on the fern species, one would want to boil them in one to three pots of water (pouring off the water each time) in an attempt to leach out unpleasant and mostly unknown compounds, before stir-frying them in a little butter. Safely consuming fiddleheads assumes: 1) The fronds are cooked and not fresh; 2) You know how to properly prepare them. 3) You are certain of the identity and safety of what you are consuming, and 4) You don’t believe everything you read on the Internet.
I hike the Beacham Trail around Lake Leatherwood several times a week. Now the vegetation is changing on a daily basis. In Hyde Hollow, it is quite obvious that wild hogs have rooted up nearly every edible tuber. It looks like someone took a rototiller through the entire riparian habitat. Prominently contrasting that destruction now are plaited leafy greens that look like perfect wild pig lettuce. These are the attractive succulent leaves of False Hellebore (Veratrum woodii), a member of the lily family, with deadly toxic heart-palpitating alkaloids. The leaves are sharply burning if nibbled, hence the wild pigs avoid them either by trial-and-error or collective instinct. The plant rarely flowers, though can produce spectacular six-foot tall fronds of maroon flowers.
The Internet dilutes our collective instinct by bombarding our brains with bits, bytes, and bites of information without nuanced context. My overly-informed nature instinct takes heed of the wild hogs’ “observation” that all that looks like lettuce is not lettuce. Before you take a bite out of wild plants, do a bit more research.