Ok, how would I know that flavor? Experience. I tripped over a small root on a hiking trail near Newfane VT and, mouth agap, hit the forest floor in a mess of old maple tree bark. I got up, spit out the offending taste and -boom- it hit me: this tastes just like my Mom’s “tender” fiddlehead ferns seared in brown butter.

I think I emptied the entire bottle of water just to get rid of the taste. And our party hit an ice cream store after getting back to the trail head.

Katie can keep the fiddlehead ferns. I think food groupies sometimes eat outrageous things just to be outrageous and, in their minds, adventurous.

Nice blog, btw. Great accomplishment.