Now you can read us on your iPhone and iPad! Check out the BTRtoday app.
The last couple of times I’ve visited my local grocery store, I’ve had some strange interactions. Why? It’s all because of the weird-ass-veggies that I’ve excitedly placed into my shopping cart.
First, I picked up some fiddleheads; these little buggers are extremely seasonal, and they represent a bit of a relic of my childhood. These are the tippity-tops of ferns, and they’re only edible in this early stage, and when appropriately cooked, or else they can make you sick. When I was a kid, my sister and I used to go into our woods and pick these guys. They’re rare and fleeting, so we’d sell them at our local farmer’s market for jacked-up prices. Supply and demand, baby, we were smart little entrepreneurs.
I explained all of this to the woman checking me out at the market, who had no earthly idea what these little curly-ques could be, and why a person would buy them.
I brought them home and blanched them, then sautéed them in a pan with a ton of butter. Damn good.
The very next night, I visited the same grocery store. I had spotted some sunchokes that I planned to roast with some olive oil, thyme, salt, pepper, and aged balsamic. I grabbed a handful of the nubby root veggies and took them to the checkout. It was a different worker, and he said to me “You know those aren’t ginger, right?”
“Yeah,” I responded. “They’re sunchokes, also called Jerusalem artichokes,” I told him. He asked me what they tasted like, and I said they were kind of a combination between parsnips and artichoke hearts. He thanked me for explaining, and wished me a happy dinner.
One thing’s for sure, without my in-depth food knowledge (and willingness to spew it at anybody who will listen), this grocery store would be screwed.