<\/a>Mickey Prescott and Oscar help pick spruce tips in Wrangell. (Photo by Vivian Faith Prescott)<\/p><\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
The sound of a squawky blue jay drifts through the open window. I’m having fun driving the logging road with the windows down, and a dog leaning out the window as my dad and I conduct our ritual creature count. So far we’ve seen two porcupines and a deer. I tell him the last creature we glimpsed hurrying into the woods, hairy and bigger than a porcupine, was a baby sasquatch. Together, we listen for hooters, watch for bear poop and stop for animal tracks.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
We drive for about another mile, then turn up a steep, but short gravel hill. On each side of us the alder is overgrown and it’s like we’re entering a magical place. Once we crest the hill a wide-open sky welcomes us with a picnic table, firepit and enough room to turn around. Snow-topped mountain peaks rise in front of us and a thick forested hillside drops steep into the ocean below. And it’s a kingfisher day, but a bit breezy. Sure enough, the spruce tips in this location are at a perfect stage, and some have already bloomed out. This is the earliest spruce tip ripening spot on the island and it’s easily accessible for Elders, which makes it the perfect place to pick and picnic.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
<\/a>Measuring and packaging spruce tips to donate to local tribe Wrangell Cooperative Association (WCA) in Wrangell. (Photo by Vivian Faith Prescott)<\/p><\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
Oscar, my border collie, jumps down out of the truck, and I grab my cedar basket, gloves, bag and head for the closest tree growing on the edge of an embankment. I watch my footing because it’s steep and put on my gloves. “Gunalchéesh,” I thank the tree. The rhythmic motion of picking spruce tips soothes my worries. I want to live in the moment just as this pesky bee on the spruce tips.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
Spruce tips make me happy. Over the years I’ve learned a lot about them. Often people want to know how spruce tips taste. They’re hard to describe. Some say spruce tips are like rosemary. Others say they’re tart or piney, even somewhat like a pickle and perhaps a bit citrusy. I’ve added them to clam chowder and salmon chowder, to halibut Olympia, spring rolls and teas. I’ve made spruce tip ice-cream and spruce tip scones, spruce tip butter and spruce tip tortillas. I also discovered that spruce tips are best preserved frozen in plastic freezer baggies in the freezer for use all year long. And you can chop up the whole thing and add it to any recipe.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
At nearly every growth stage you can add a handful of spruce tips to infuse your water for a refreshing drink. If you’ve never tried spruce tips, the best way to get used to the sprucy flavor is to try spruce tip iced tea. Basically, go by the rule of 8s. If you love the taste of spruce tips, use about two tablespoons of chopped tips in your baking and cooking. That’s about eight spruce tips per recipe. If that amount makes it too sprucy, then divide that in half. Four spruce tips per recipe. If you’re hesitant to try spruce tips as a seasoning (either savory or sweet), then try one or two chopped spruce tips per recipe.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
My dad is sitting at the nearby picnic table. The table is old and weathered, and soon the Forest Service will replace it with a new style. Oscar has jumped on the table and is kissing my dad’s face, and that blissful high rushes through me like a creek in spring-melt. I reach for another spruce tip and pick it — and another and another — until my cupped hand is full. I dump the handful into my basket.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
<\/a>Spruce tips blooming on spruce tree in Wrangell. (Photo by Vivian Faith Prescott)<\/p><\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
My dad is now next to a tree picking a few spruce tips and, after a few minutes, sits down again at the picnic table. I join him at the table and bring out the picnic lunch. We eat saltines and egg salad, some apple slices and leftover cake. I pick the smallest spruce tip from the basket and pop the whole thing in my mouth. My eyes widen with the tart spruciness and the taste instantly returns me to my childhood. Spruce tips are one of the first things I foraged as a kid. We’d strip the soft needles from the older tips and eat the tart center.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
“Do you want one,” I ask my dad, holding out a small spruce tip. He says no thank you. “You know I chopped some into the egg salad.” I say.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
“Mmmm,” he say, “figures.” We laugh, and he hands Oscar a cracker.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
Surrounded by alder and muskeg-scent, a basketful of green tips, a dog with moss stuck in his tail fur, and my dad, sitting at a table he built with his own hands, I’m sure that spruce tips will now taste like today, which is the best day ever.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
• Wrangell writer and artist Vivian Faith Prescott writes “Planet Alaska: Sharing our Stories” with her daughter, Vivian Mork Yéilk’. <\/em>It appears once per month in the Capital City Weekly.<\/em><\/p>\n\t\t\t\t