Ómós Digest #9: Elm seeds, a year to the day.
A very rare discovery on the east coast of Ireland.
Welcome to the Ómós Digest. This newsletter will hopefully bring you on that journey about the food you were looking for, or perhaps never knew existed. It is our quest to expand on what we don’t know and to share with those who care. If you haven’t read Newsletter #1 yet, it can be found here.
This newsletter is brought to you by Cúán Greene, Founder of Ómós.
Those who have ventured along the outer walls of the Phoenix Park towards Chapelizod, will have noticed the War Memorial Gardens: an open secret located on the south bank of the River Liffey, where the river transforms into a Utopia, free of pollution. Unlike the city centre where cement footpaths line the banks, traffic congests the parallel streets and seagulls harass passersby, here towards the park, the river is lush with green, vibrant banks. The city’s hustle and bustle disappears and the shrieking sound of scavenger gulls is replaced by harmonious birdsong. Along the cycleway is vegetation to pick and ponder upon: wild berries, spruce, garlic mustard, cow parsley, knotweed, elder, meadowsweet, brassicas, you name it. With each season, the riverbank brings forth new findings, and that is what makes Dublin so special to me. At any given time you are only a short cycle away from an urban forager’s paradox. No wonder so many renowned poets hail from here.
Few and far between
May 14th, I am told, is the most important day of the year. I’m often made aware of its approach as early as March, not because it is the day that a certain wild herb or flower blooms - Mother Nature is far too unpredictable for that - but because it’s the date of my girlfriend's birthday.
Last year we celebrated next to one of the aforementioned banks. It was the picture of a beautiful sunny day, without the faintest of a breeze: a day meant for a picnic. I recall we spent the morning making rice paper summer rolls, which in my mind are a much better traveller's bite than a soggy sandwich. They were paired with an experimental dipping sauce containing, at the time, the all-new Harry’s Nut Butter, plus a few other condiments from the fridge. We washed it all down with a bottle of Alexandre Bain’s Sauvignon Blanc, a Pouilly-Fumé like no other. This was the perfect escapism from city life, even though we were still very much located in the heart of Dublin.
That rather tranquil afternoon was met with a finding. Similar to when you are caught gazing into a fire, the glistening of a passing river has the tendency to transport us elsewhere, affixing us by both its inherent beauty and danger. As we watched the river's debris gently float by, I spotted what could only have been an elm seed. It was unmistakable. With the appearance of tiny halved pears, elm seeds (also known as elm fruit), are about a 1 euro coin in size. They typically grow in clusters with a flat paper-like texture, and a mild flavour reminiscent of a pea or steamed, waxy potato. I looked around to see if there were any more seeds in its company, but there weren’t. With stretched out fingertips I collected the seed, astounded by the discovery. Eva (the birthday girl), despite being initially taken aback by my excitement, is used to such behaviour and just like one would do with a toddler, knew to demonstrate great enthusiasm towards my unveiling of such a rare find. In fact, the likelihood of finding one in Ireland today is slim.
The Wych Elm tree is Ireland's only native elm. Wych comes from the old English word ‘wice’ which means supple or flexible and was used in the making of chairs. In Irish, it's known as leamhán sléibhe which means ‘mountain elm’ and this leads me to believe that the elm seed I found may have drifted downstream from its origin all the way up in the Wicklow Mountains. The Celts believed that the Wych Elm protected the dead and helped the soul pass to the underworld. Although the elm tree was once abundant in Ireland, the tree's population was decimated throughout Europe between the late 1960’s to 1990’s by the Dutch elm disease: a fungal disease spread and transported by elm bark beetles. It is extremely rare that elm trees become resistant to the disease and most succumb to it within reaching 5m in height. If you find a Wych Elm in good health, then it is most likely that the tree has avoided the disease out of pure luck.
A second discovery
A note to the reader: the following information is true and no adaptation has been made in the effort to romanticise the story.
12 months had passed since my last discovery of the Wych Elm seed. Last season had come and gone without any further luck. I continued to investigate whether any other recent sightings of the tree from seed had been made. My investigation was met with no reward.
It’s Friday, 14th May 2021. Eva and I head for a celebratory run around Killiney Hill in the foothills of the Wicklow Mountains. We have plans for a post-run dip followed by lunch by the sea. Killiney is a beautiful location, home to some of Ireland's most extravagant properties. We run along steep, narrow side paths, quaint alleyways dotted with summer's early wild offerings, and past homes you might associate with Beverly Hills, gawking over walls and craning our necks around tall gates; unashamedly curious by how the other half live. We turn a corner and with that, I stop. Elm! A 30-foot elm tree, lush with bouquets of seeds, protrudes over a walled garden as I had never seen before. I’m elated: a run turns to a skip with a feeling of great wonder and excitement. The 14th of May really is the most important day of the year, which makes me wonder what next year will have in store.
Room at the table
I am attracted to naturally delicious foods, ingredients that have unique textures, where the uses develop when manipulated or paired with other flavours. These have the ability to excite people through taste and storytelling. Some wild foods are less palatable than others, sometimes being bitter or fibrous. However with many plants, the palatability relies on seasonality; knowing when to pick it is equally as important as knowing where to find it, and this is the case with elm. Its leaves are rough to touch, tooth-edged, and tapered to a sharp point. While edible raw, they are a little astringent. The seeds however are delicious, available for a short window between April-May. They are the perfect vehicle for bold flavours, and are excellent in salads. Last week, we made a pancake from buckwheat, brushed it in a really intense savoury fudge made with our own miso and rose oil, before scattering elm seeds all over it. The pancake melted the fudge, which allowed the elm seeds to stick. It was the perfect bite. All that was missing is a photo…
Rarer today than wild salmon and steeped in Celtic mythology, there is something very Irish about the Elm seed. I do hope my tree is in good health come next May.
As always, thank you for reading the Ómós Digest. This is newsletter #9, so if you missed our previous editions, you’ve got plenty to catch up on, including our Something Saucy offering. You can also check out omos.co if you’re curious about our story.