Fiddleheads take me back out east to a creekside forest in springtime Nova Scotia where I gathered buckets of these tender spirals with my friend Marge. It was a cool, damp morning years ago somewhere between Wallace and Tatamagouche and I’ll never forget it. I l just love that feeling of gathering in the wild – blue berries, black berries I’m in –  though I do draw the line at mushrooms!

It is rare to find fiddleheads on my Californian grocery shelf but today I lucked out! They are a luxury, but so worth it! I clean them really well, steam until tender, sauté them with a little olive oil or butter, and add a squeeze of lemon and a dash of salt and pepper. My son who can be a picky eater called them twirly whirlies and popped them in his mouth like candy!

I miss Marge!