So far I’ve left the adventure of seeking for leeks to my in-laws while Northwoods camping in late spring. I’ve also left the cleaning and cooking of leeks to my sister-in-law. But I readily partake in the tastiness of this wild vegetable.
I didn’t know much about leeks until a few years back when my brother-in-law and his wife showed me where the low, broad-leafed vegetable grew wild in the wooded area behind their rural home. I’ve always avoided mushrooms for fear of picking the wrong kind, so I didn’t think wild harvesting in spring was meant for me. I head for the natural stuff in late summer to pick blackberries and wild plums and gather butternuts.
But there they were, wild leeks with wide, green leaves rising half a foot above ground and thickening near the ground into a bundle of leaf sheaths, which disappear below the surface into a short, oblong bulb with roots. So the edible part is from the bundle of sheaths to just above the roots, I’m told. All I know is that the edible part of the wild leek smells like onion and tastes like mild onion with a hint of sweetness, however that is possible.
On our Memorial Day family camping trip, my inlaws found leeks, and they were sautéed with other vegetables in a tasty side dish to the main meal of salmon slices over a campfire. It all went well with the beverage of each one’s choice, with my German heritage coming out with my choice (always) of full-bodied beer.
I’m now reading everything I can about leeks, how they have 12 vitamins and six minerals, how they can replace all the greens and spices in a recipe, including spinach, garlic and onions, a culinary fact reinforced for me by naturalist Emily Stone of the Cable Natural History Museum.
My spring woodland hikes are now more than about wildflowers and finding what winter left behind. I’ve discovered leeks.