The Incredible, Edible . . . Acorn
My affection for them started when I sent my son out to pick up the acorns that had fallen into my winter garden, threatening what was left of what the rabbits hadn’t eaten. We had to remove them before roots sprouted and took hold.
Guy picked up a thousand the first afternoon, and it didn’t take long. Those acorns looked so autumnal in their flowerpot that I asked him not to toss them into the woods as first advised. “Let’s save them for the squirrels,” I said. “When it snows this winter, they’ll have a treat.”
So there is a pot full of acorns by my front door, poised and waiting for the dead of winter. By the dead of winter, though, there may well be more buckets of acorns here, there, and everywhere. Now when I see a handful, I want to pick it up and start counting yet again. Who doesn’t love a challenge? Maybe Guy and I between us can pick up 10,000 acorns. If we can do that, why stop?
Looking at the first pot of acorns, I began to uncover a dim memory from grade school, something about acorn flour. To get in touch with my inner child, I consulted today’s encyclopedia, the Internet, to see what I might have done so long ago with acorns pillaged from my yard and never returned to the squirrels.
Sure enough, I found a recipe for acorn flour, a popular project in the schools. The first thing you have to do is leach them to remove a taste bitter to humans (not squirrels).
The Maidu tribe did this by pouring water over them a number of times in a hole in the ground covered with pine straw. Rain would work, I bet. Short of the old-fashioned strategy, modern recipes suggest that you can boil them until the shells are soft, pick them open, and then roast the innards in a slow oven before grinding them into flour for muffins or whatever suits your fancy.
Acorns are indeed nutritious. If you’re looking for a protein-enriched carb with a low glycemic index, think acorn. If you keep pigs, you can fatten them up with acorns and wild berries, according to southern folklore. If you don’t keep pigs, maybe a guinea pig could enjoy the occasional acorn, if your squirrels can spare them. Another possibility is acorn juice, a concoction revered in 17th century England for medicinal purposes.
By the time you’ve harvested 50,000 or more, though, you should shift some of the burden from food items to material culture. If people get tired of fruitcakes, just imagine how tired your friends (and animals) will get of acorn-laden goodies. With acorns to spare, turn your hand to craft-making. Why shop when the materials you need are in your yard?
If ancient Romans could enjoy adorning themselves with acorn necklaces, modern-day Virginians could too. I’d wear one. Another idea is the worry acorn. Why carry a worry stone when an acorn, said to ease the aging process, is lighter? Although I can imagine the functionality of a decorative acorn abacus, I know from experience that an acorn makes a great cat toy.
If none of the above interests you, just think acorns. Ralph Waldo Emerson pondered the acorn to say, “The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.” It’s true. My pot of 1,000 acorns has the potential to grow into 1,000 oak trees. Multiply that! It’s awesome to think that Guy found the first 1,000 in a space of less than five square feet. What a mighty oak.
Felicia Mitchell. First published in Washington County News (Abingdon, VA), 9 November 2005, p. A4. WCN is a publication of Media General Operations. Copyright 2005.
Guy picked up a thousand the first afternoon, and it didn’t take long. Those acorns looked so autumnal in their flowerpot that I asked him not to toss them into the woods as first advised. “Let’s save them for the squirrels,” I said. “When it snows this winter, they’ll have a treat.”
So there is a pot full of acorns by my front door, poised and waiting for the dead of winter. By the dead of winter, though, there may well be more buckets of acorns here, there, and everywhere. Now when I see a handful, I want to pick it up and start counting yet again. Who doesn’t love a challenge? Maybe Guy and I between us can pick up 10,000 acorns. If we can do that, why stop?
Looking at the first pot of acorns, I began to uncover a dim memory from grade school, something about acorn flour. To get in touch with my inner child, I consulted today’s encyclopedia, the Internet, to see what I might have done so long ago with acorns pillaged from my yard and never returned to the squirrels.
Sure enough, I found a recipe for acorn flour, a popular project in the schools. The first thing you have to do is leach them to remove a taste bitter to humans (not squirrels).
The Maidu tribe did this by pouring water over them a number of times in a hole in the ground covered with pine straw. Rain would work, I bet. Short of the old-fashioned strategy, modern recipes suggest that you can boil them until the shells are soft, pick them open, and then roast the innards in a slow oven before grinding them into flour for muffins or whatever suits your fancy.
Acorns are indeed nutritious. If you’re looking for a protein-enriched carb with a low glycemic index, think acorn. If you keep pigs, you can fatten them up with acorns and wild berries, according to southern folklore. If you don’t keep pigs, maybe a guinea pig could enjoy the occasional acorn, if your squirrels can spare them. Another possibility is acorn juice, a concoction revered in 17th century England for medicinal purposes.
By the time you’ve harvested 50,000 or more, though, you should shift some of the burden from food items to material culture. If people get tired of fruitcakes, just imagine how tired your friends (and animals) will get of acorn-laden goodies. With acorns to spare, turn your hand to craft-making. Why shop when the materials you need are in your yard?
If ancient Romans could enjoy adorning themselves with acorn necklaces, modern-day Virginians could too. I’d wear one. Another idea is the worry acorn. Why carry a worry stone when an acorn, said to ease the aging process, is lighter? Although I can imagine the functionality of a decorative acorn abacus, I know from experience that an acorn makes a great cat toy.
If none of the above interests you, just think acorns. Ralph Waldo Emerson pondered the acorn to say, “The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.” It’s true. My pot of 1,000 acorns has the potential to grow into 1,000 oak trees. Multiply that! It’s awesome to think that Guy found the first 1,000 in a space of less than five square feet. What a mighty oak.
Felicia Mitchell. First published in Washington County News (Abingdon, VA), 9 November 2005, p. A4. WCN is a publication of Media General Operations. Copyright 2005.
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