Marsh Greens

by Anita Benedict

If you know you know and maybe it is just a Noel Shore thing, but I had a “feed” of marsh greens the other night. Who knew those tasty blades would go well with mac and cheese and ribs? Steamed more than boiled, with just a hint of butter and a tiny drop of vinegar; they were a divine feast. They were very tender and almost sweet rather than bitter and with only a hint of salt.

My daughter came home for a flying visit for Father’s Day and wanted to pick marsh greens. She had heard that a local fella was looking for some so she went out to pick some for him. A bag went to her appreciative aunt in the Valley and another will make its way to New Brunswick eventually for some folks up there to try. This used to be a money-making venture for all of my kids, and they were pretty clean pickers, no grass in their bags.

There is something special about going out on the marsh, trudging over last year’s dried and spongy marsh grass to find the perfect spot. A spot you really don’t have to move from. It is quiet out there; traffic is far enough away and no creatures make their way out, except for mosquitoes. The smell is earthy, with a salty tang and squishy in some places. You have to get down to that earth to pick comfortably. Off in the distance you can still the old “hay ricks” that held the marsh hay to dry once cut.

These marsh greens, called Goose tongue by the Acadians, were the first greens of the season. Plentiful, healthy and a great spring tonic! Our forebears picked them, so in a sense it is a tradition passed down through the ages, a connection to our past.

I have had folks tell me they would not know the first thing about picking them, or what to look for. I will say you need to be careful not to pull out the root, or the tradition will quickly come to an end. One of my boys used scissors to cut the blades, so he wouldn’t damage the root system. You can twist, or break them with a finger nail but only one at a time. Grabbing a handful is no faster, you end up destroying the plant and quite often have more grass than green!

I always lay them evenly in the bottom of the bucket, it makes it easier to clean them and divide them at home. There is a satisfaction in seeing the bottom slowly cover over with those tender little shoots with their little black spots. It doesn’t take much to make a meal and you really should pace yourself. 

Wherever I travel in the province I always look for the plants. I find them in the craggy rocks at Cape Forchu, along trails in other parts of Yarmouth. I found some at Scots Bay and wonder if folks know what to do with them. I even found some growing in Ireland, pretty late in the season, but easily recognizable.

My knees won’t let me pick for long, but I have a hankering to get out there, enjoy the salt air and share some time with the ghosts of the past.