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Jack-In-The-Pulpits by Paul Hetrick
Author: "Paul S. Hetrick" http://ledgewood-consulting.com/(website no longer in existence) Home of the Homestead Chat Room 8:00PM EST nightly! Reprinted here after hours of sucking up....
I wrote this last fall for another list I was on. I figure it's a good example of what not to do for this list.
Eating Wild Plants.
As I walk my dog through the woods these days, the most colorful things growing in the woods are the bright red berry-clusters that mark where ‘jack-in-the-pulpits' grew last spring. I've always liked jack-in-the-pulpits; they are interesting flowers.
I was surprised when I heard that they are one of the traditional seasonings for the hot dishes common to southern China. When I heard this, I looked them up in a wild-flower field-guide. "Jack-in-the-pulpits, otherwise known as Indian-turnips. The fleshy roots produce a burning sensation when eaten–this burning is removed when cooked." or some such was the relevant part of the description.
Armed with this knowledge I went out and harvested two of the roots. The eatable part of the root is a button-shaped corm at the base of the stem that has smaller roots radiating from it. One of the two I harvested was about the size of a nickel and maybe a quarter of an inch thick. The other was quarter-sized and about a half-inch thick. I brought my bounty from the wilds into the kitchen and washed them off. I peeled off the tough outer skin of the smaller one to reveal a firm-but-fleshy inside. I took a sniff–there was hardly any smell at all. Racking up by courage, I had no idea how hot these beasts would be, I placed a tiny piece of the small root on my tongue. Not much happened for a few seconds–this is one of those things that has a deadly delay so that you think it's safe–and then the fire started. I spit out the root and grabbed a glass for water. I then moved onto the Diet Coke in the fridge. Somewhere in the midst of the above I rinsed my mouth out with hydrogen-peroxide too.
Two days later I could still feel something unusual when I ran the tip of my tongue across the roof of my mouth.
Now I'm usually a smart guy–however I do get a bit stubborn at times and I really like the hot Szechuan and Huanan foods. The book did say the burning went away with cooking, it promised it did. The Indians ate them. The Chinese eat them. I could eat them. I just had to cook it.
Well a week or so later the larger root was still sitting in my kitchen. The burning sensation had completely left my mouth and I could see no signs of permanent scars.
Of course none of my books said _how_ to cook it.
I dropped the peeled root into a microwave-safe glass of water and set it to boil. It shriveled up a bit and felt softer when I picked it out of the glass with a fork and rinsed it off. It was cooked. It had to be. It wasn't very big and had been in the boiling water for a minute or so. It felt cooked.
Very gently I touched it lightly to the tip of my tongue. Nothing happened. Well nothing happened with the first gentle touch of the raw root either. I wasn't going to be fooled twice, not I! I waited a few seconds and there was no burning. I rubbed the tip of my tongue across the roof of my mouth and it felt normal. After a few more licks, each of growing duration and firmness, there was still no burning. The thing didn't even have much flavor. This was going to be a boring letdown. I popped the root into my mouth and rolled it around on my tongue. Nothing. Well the time had come. I rolled it to the front of my mouth and bit it in two.
In less time than it took to say to myself, "It does not have any taste at all," the fire started. By this time part of the root had rolled back towards the back of my mouth and the other was still in front of my teeth, catching my lower lip afire. I spit out both parts of the root and once again started rinsing my mouth out with whatever I could lay my hands on. I was at the sink, so once again water was the closest. The Diet Coke was nearby so I drained the second half of a two-liter bottle and opened another. I then remembered the ice-cream in the freezer, but it was frozen too hard to spoon out quickly. Well pain is an even greater force for invention than simple necessity. I probably drank the worlds first float made with Diet Coke and coffee ice-cream.
The pain was at a livable level in a few hours. I felt confident I'd survive. My voice was a bit off for a couple of days. A week later I could still feel an unnatural tingle when I ran the tip of my tongue across the roof of my mouth.
Well, I've truly learned my lesson about jack-in-the-pulpit roots. I'll not try them again even if I find detailed instructions on how to safely prepare them. It even took me a while to order hot-and-sour soup at the Chinese restaurant. I promise I'll never dig up another jack-in-the-pulpit root again, ever.
. . .
Epilogue: Well, It's moved on to Spring again. I eventually did look up Jack-in-the-pulpits in a wild food book. They are edible, but no amount of cooking dulls the burning they cause. The way to make them edible is to dry them--thoroughly. It was during the winter that I learned this, and they are just now regrowing. I might try drying them this fall when the roots are again at their peak.