Gathering your food doesn’t have to be dirty business…unless you like it dirty.

Do you know what is sexy? Foraging is sexy. You heard me right, foraging. The age-old art of gathering one’s own victuals. Except we’ve slapped our own spin on it for the modern West coast lifestyle. For example: Ye old Pilgrim Settler boy would wander the meadows in search of slugs to make a cauldron of grub gruel. Nowadays, 21st century Digital Girl dapples her plate with snails, calls them escargot and serves them to posh luminaries visiting from Dubai and Ibiza.

Of course there is the requisite foraging-gear. You will wish to protect yourself from the perils of spring with an apropos outfit. I lean toward the Brit-Bombshell-At-Glastonbury look, myself. Purple Hunter Wellies, a matching skirt that’s short enough to crouch in comfort, and a pair of workaday gloves to shield my manicure against the painful barbs of stinging nettle. A foraging boy-about-town would find a pair of bum-defining Carhardts sufficiently serviceable. Whatever you do, hold the Crocs — it’s an urban forest, not a Pea Patch!

If you were so moved as to drop your iPad and head for Seward Park RIGHT THIS MINUTE, you’d do well to look for fiddlehead ferns and nettles. Fiddleheads are the visceral manifestation of Fibonacci’s famous sequence, and I daresay a fat handful would make a better bouquet than a dozen tired tulips picked up from QFC because you narrowly-missed forgetting an anniversary. There are as many uses for fiddleheads as there are positions in the Kama Sutra. They are great when tossed in a scintillating stir-fry, scramble or sauté, so get kinky and be experimental.

Nettles are easy to spot and make a great first-forage because you know right away if you’ve got the right plant by their stinging salute. The obvious solution is to wear gloves when harvesting and bring a handy pair of sheers to snip the stalks. The “sting” of nettles disappears the moment they hit boiling water, so snip ‘em, blanch ‘em and use them at that point as you would spinach. They are great in lasagna or served as a wilted green salad with a hint of bacon and balsamic.

If you don’t trust yourself to suss out the difference between Deadly Nightshade and friendly fiddleheads, you’re in luck. Local author and modern-day Renaissance man Langdon Cook teaches foraging workshops. The next one is May 3rd and details can be found on his Web site.

And now it’s time for the question of the week. This is an exciting feature of the Sexy Food column that YOU should join too. We all know that doing it in a group is more fun, right? To entice your clever, lusty little minds, we are offering a prize for the best question sent in this week. Not only will you be featured in next week’s column, you’ll also win a selection of syrups, sauces and olives from the good people at Estancia Lucia. The loot has been selected for its aphrodisiacal properties, so if you want to get a head start on your evening’s hedonism, all you have to do is email a question about sex, food or Seattle to Sexyfood@Seattleite.com.

This week’s winner is Heather of West Seattle. She writes:

Dear Sexy Seattleite,

My boyfriend recently took a job where he is out of town most of the time. In fact he is only home every other weekend. While traveling he eats out for every meal. When he comes home I would love to offer up something new, fun and sexy! My mac and cheese and roast chickens just won’t cut it anymore. Any suggestions?

– Cookin’ in West Seattle

 

Dear Cookin’,

Girl, what you need is a good old-fashioned boots-knocking, and you need it in a bad way. You need to keep this boy at home with the lure of what’s local. Show him that the goods you have to offer are simply not available in hotel rooms across the country, and that he needs to come home to mama to eat his fill. You can get all of the ingredients for this pasta dish at the Pike Place Market. For more information on how to make your own pasta (should you be so ambitious) see the original version of this recipe here.

Morel Marsala Primavera with Fiddleheads and Carciofini (baby artichokes)

Makes 4 servings (enough for morning-after leftovers!)

• 3 tbsp butter

• 1 thinly-sliced leek

• 3 garlic cloves, chopped fine

• 10 carciofini, quartered and blanched for 3 minutes in boiling water

• 1 cup fiddlehead ferns

• 1 cup morels, halved

• 1 tsp chopped fresh thyme

• ¼ c chicken stock

• ½ c Marsala wine

• Zest of one lemon (Meyer preferred)

• Juice of one lemon

• ½ c heavy cream

• 1lb fettuccine noodles (I use homemade beet fettucine, recipe here)

• Optional: 4 oz chopped Serrano ham, 10 quail eggs cooked at 145°F in water bath for 25 minutes, or Parmigiano Reggiano grated over the top of the tossed pasta.

1. Saute the leek in the butter in a large skillet for three minutes. Add the garlic and carciofini and sauté for two additional minutes. Add the fiddleheads, morels, thyme and stock and cook for two minutes, stirring frequently.

2. Turn the pan on high heat and add the Marsala wine. Ignite and allow the alcohol to burn off. Add the lemon zest, lemon juice and heavy cream and remove from heat. Serve with beet fettuccine (or pasta of your choice) and toss in optional ingredients listed above if you wish.