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Responchous
Some of our oldest friends came out from London to visit us this past weekend. Being fearless foodies, they are always interested in trying new and strange produce from far-flung – or less-far-flung lands. This time, they themselves semi-discovered a new delicacy to try after having seen various people on the way to our house, rummaging away in the ditches at the side of the road. What were they looking for?
Our time here has meant that we have learnt two things: not to be surprised at cars randomly, and often dangerously, parked at the side of the road and secondly, that the French will go to huge lengths to acquire the freshest of edible produce. The ditch foragers, in this case and at this time of year, were looking for responchous.
A word almost impossible to pronounce, not least because it is spelt in so many different ways (responchous, reponchons, respounchous…), this climbing plant is an indicator in our part of the world, that spring has arrived. Sometimes confused with wild asparagus, this stringy vegetable is in fact otherwise known as Black Bryony (in French, tamier commun) and needs supersonic eyesight to spot.
Foraging to many English folk, is one of those antiquated traditions in which people from slightly uncivilised nations partake. However, the French have no compunction in spending an hour or two poking about under hedges to find a delicious something-or-other which is free and can’t be bought vacuum-packed at the local Waitrose.
the podcast
by Sarah Heath | Responchous
http://thehexagon.space/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/Responchous.mp3
Responchous are particularly prevalent in the Lot, the Aveyron and the Tarn (where we live). They have pretty, heart-shaped leaves and need to be picked when young (I’m not sure how you distinguish between young and old shoots but let’s not be ageist until tasting time). It is also known as “l’herbe aux femmes battues” (battered-wives grass) for its bruise-disguising properties. Not its greatest selling point!
A forager friend, Sandrine, posted a photograph of a generous pile she had spent an hour or so harvesting along the edges of local woodland which incited our enthusiasm to try it. On the excuse of giving the dog a long walk we funnily enough ended up at a local vineyard the owners of which insisted we try all of their finest produce.. On the way home, two or three sheets to the wind, we purposely set forth on our quest to find our own responchous.
Happily ignorant of the fact that the entire plant is poisonous when uncooked, we started looking in the shrubs along the roadside and in the forest. We didn’t really know what we were searching for and we had had at least three glasses of wine each but we felt confident in our mission. We had also bumped into an old neighbour who showed us what it looked like – forgetting that she might have wanted to poison us after several 'neighbourly' altercations!
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Some of our oldest friends came out from London to visit us this past weekend. Being fearless foodies, they are always interested in trying new and strange produce from far-flung – or less-far-flung lands. This time, they themselves semi-discovered a new delicacy to try after having seen various people on the way to our house, rummaging away in the ditches at the side of the road. What were they looking for?
Our time here has meant that we have learnt two things: not to be surprised at cars randomly, and often dangerously, parked at the side of the road and secondly, that the French will go to huge lengths to acquire the freshest of edible produce. The ditch foragers, in this case and at this time of year, were looking for responchous.
A word almost impossible to pronounce, not least because it is spelt in so many different ways (responchous, reponchons, respounchous…), this climbing plant is an indicator in our part of the world, that spring has arrived. Sometimes confused with wild asparagus, this stringy vegetable is in fact otherwise known as Black Bryony (in French, tamier commun) and needs supersonic eyesight to spot.
Foraging to many English folk, is one of those antiquated traditions in which people from slightly uncivilised nations partake. However, the French have no compunction in spending an hour or two poking about under hedges to find a delicious something-or-other which is free and can’t be bought vacuum-packed at the local Waitrose.
the podcast
by Sarah Heath | Responchous
http://thehexagon.space/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/Responchous.mp3
Responchous are particularly prevalent in the Lot, the Aveyron and the Tarn (where we live). They have pretty, heart-shaped leaves and need to be picked when young (I’m not sure how you distinguish between young and old shoots but let’s not be ageist until tasting time). It is also known as “l’herbe aux femmes battues” (battered-wives grass) for its bruise-disguising properties. Not its greatest selling point!
A forager friend, Sandrine, posted a photograph of a generous pile she had spent an hour or so harvesting along the edges of local woodland which incited our enthusiasm to try it. On the excuse of giving the dog a long walk we funnily enough ended up at a local vineyard the owners of which insisted we try all of their finest produce.. On the way home, two or three sheets to the wind, we purposely set forth on our quest to find our own responchous.
Happily ignorant of the fact that the entire plant is poisonous when uncooked, we started looking in the shrubs along the roadside and in the forest. We didn’t really know what we were searching for and we had had at least three glasses of wine each but we felt confident in our mission. We had also bumped into an old neighbour who showed us what it looked like – forgetting that she might have wanted to poison us after several 'neighbourly' altercations!