Doing Wild Rice Native Style

I have always been intrigued with wild rice in part because it was rumored to be a staple of the Native Americans. Plus, it might just be a form of local food---you know, the local food movement. In recent years, it apparently has spread south and it is now common to see it growing in great profusion in some of the local waterways. Recently, I ran into a massive out pouring of the eight foot high grass in one of the lakes on the Montello River.

I managed to wrench a small tutorial from brother Crow on how to harvest the stuff as he had once done it for folding money---along with the First Nations dudes. A name like Crow what do you expect.

We put together our canoe rig along with a couple of sticks for taping the stems to remove the seeds and set out in traditional mode---we wore the clothing of honkys, however. Ann manned the bow along with Chester, the dog, as we slogged through the marsh engulfed in duckweed, rushes and wild rice the size of small trees.

The idea is to bend the stalk over so the heads are above the hold of the boat and then tap the stem knocking the grain into the cargo area. Getting in position was not easy and reminded me of the African Queen episode where I was Humphrey. With some effort and the expenditure of many calories, we aligned ourselves as harvesters and began tapping. It seemed that little would come to us and much that did, appeared small and not very edible. The grains had a long extended shaft of hull that made it look more like dart grass. To top it off the dog ate a few of them and started to choke and hack. There was concern that if he hurled the product would be soiled and ill tasting.


After a solid hour we had secured about a cup worth. At that point we realized that this would be a poor living for us and we had to retrench as death would be stalking us if we were desperate. The calories spent in labor exceeded the energy in the product, not to mention the ten dollars worth of gasoline to get there---I did get some nice bluegills that covered that expense. We took our harvest home for processing. This certainly will be another story told at a later time.

But like MacArthur said, "I will return."

Walnuts for Cookies

In Wisconsin every podunk town has a walnut tree or two. Mostly folks don't like them because in the fall they drop their nuts, the male ones, in the lawn and they make for hard mowing---like oh my God!. It seems that few realize their true value. As a kid I know we gathered hickory nuts, butternuts and walnuts wiht great folly. Our parents would take them home and bust them up for their food value ---I was not raised by a family of squirrels even though we did gather wild foods but not bury them in the ground---only the gold. I do remember it was a project. Mostly, I remember the smells of the nuts and to this day they offer a great smell with many memories. We probably last did this 55 years ago but it still lingers.



I've always noticed them here, usually squashed in the roads where they leave a black smudge or seen them being trucked off by a local squirrels---relatives. This year I decide to compete with the rodents and latched on to a good bucket full.

I am sure some would argue that this is a project of some marginal value. However, there are a couple of issues of interest. They have to be packed with nutritional goodies because the trouble a squirrel will go to to latch on to one of these babies is profound. Leave one on an outside table for even a few minutes and it will depart. Bury it in the ground to plant a new tree and they will have it dug up in part of a day.

But the best part is the taste. There is absolutely nothing like it. It is a richness not to be found in any commercial nut. It is work, but the time is well spent and a source of rich food that should not go unnoticed---they are free for the taking.

Possibly as we move to more local food supplies, the nuts of distant lands will not be available. Knowing the whereabouts of the walnut might just prove to be a pleasant surprise---might piss off the squirrels but they can eat acorns and I don't think I can. Push come to shove, maybe.