Well, it’s shaping up to be a banner year for wild things from my backyard. Last year was something of a bust; hardly any pokeweed, and just a few handfuls of berries. This year, however, is something else.
Was it the cicada invasion (speaking of wild things!)? Or just the cyclical nature of nature? Whatever, I’m having to think of things to do with all the wineberries that are coming in. The pokeweed has experienced a rebirth as well. Fortunately, I have no worries about using up the poke while the new shoots are harvestable; I pick some every day for about two weeks, and then, just as I get slightly sick of it, presto! it’s too old to eat.
So far, I’ve had pokeweed tacos, poke pasta, and my old favorite, cold poke salad with an Asian-inspired dressing. Poke seems to have a special affinity with toasted sesame oil.
In contrast to the wineberries, the black raspberries have not been particularly plentiful. They tend to grow intertwined with the wineberries and probably compete for resources. The raspberries ripen earlier, and there is a short window when I can enjoy both berries fresh on my morning cereal.
I’ve frozen some wineberries, and this year I’ve started a batch of shrub, following a recipe using (red) raspberries which includes dried hibiscus and rosehips. I added some hibiscus but left out the rosehips. The mix infuses for two weeks in apple cider vinegar, then is strained and sweetened with honey. Diluted with sparkling water, it promises to be a refreshing summer drink.
Speaking of cicadas, I had to decide whether to try sampling them when Brood X was upon us for some of May and all of June. The media were full of suggestions, as if eating insects was suddenly the thing to do. Call me a contrarian, but I decided to give them a miss this year – not through revulsion, but for sympathy for their survival strategy. Seventeen years in the dark for a few weeks of fun in the sun!
After their little corpses started to litter the ground, I confess to being glad that the earsplitting noise was gone, but really, who could begrudge them their short, wild time aboveground?
