Hermitcraft: Red Spaghetti (and Similar Rhodophytes)

As spring brings back the tender new seaweed, I rate it proper to share one of my favourites. This is Gracilariopsis sjoestedtii, a rhodophyte also known as "red spaghetti". As that name suggests, it's edible, though not in exactly the way you might conclude.

G. sjoestedtii is native to the eastern Pacific but relatives with similar attributes can be found across the planet. Like many in its phylum it's a good source of agar, a vegan jelly put to a wide range of uses in science and industry. And more importantly, gastronomy.

To that end you can poach rhodophytes in water or milk and press the gunk out of them, as humans have done for millennia, then use it to thicken soups and desserts. But for my money G. sjoestedtii is best simply eaten raw, more or less as-is, in the Korean style.

Unlike most seaweeds, this one is tender, succulent, and mild straight off the beach. Which is why I often eat it straight off the beach. However, it's also salty, so don't do this unless you're near home or packing drinking water.

If you bring some home, refrigerate immediately and wash it just before eating. Fresh water destroys marine algae at the cellular level, resulting in instant putrefaction.

You can chop chilled Gracilariopsis and add it to salads. Or just make a Gracilariopsis salad; cut the stems into bite-sized lengths, toss with a little finely chopped red onion, maybe other ingredients as called; dress lightly with oil and vinegar. Rice vinegar is particularly good, but I've also had plenty of success with herbed vinegars or plain old apple cider vinegar.

Though the noodle-like red algae don't cook especially well, turning instantly to stringy bright green hair, you can add them raw to hot soups or noodles, just before serving, for a pleasant touch of the sea.

And they make an excellent topping for crackers, baked potatoes, and hamburgers. On franks and brats, the shred-like pieces are remarkably suggestive of a marine sauerkraut.

Or just pitch bite-sized bits into your Bassho bowl (recipe: cooked brown rice, vegetable, protein – microwave, or steam lightly in a lidded pan), where they can serve for either vegetable or protein, according to need. I particularly like to pair Gracilariopsis with beans in this quick, sustaining monastic meal.

Nothing better in your Buddha bowl.

WW: Still life with sea cucumber

(Parastichopus californicus. At up to 60 centimetres, the largest sea cucumber in the world, though this one is only about 4 inches extended. Excellent eating, too. As are all but one of the seaweeds pictured.)

Hermitcraft: Pickleweed

Unlikely as it seems, this common plant of the high tide line (Salicornia spp.) is a member of the spinach family, and a righteous edible in its own right. Common names include sea bean, samphire, sea asparagus, and glasswort, but when I was growing up on the North Pacific coast we called it pickleweed.

Salicornia is delicious raw, and adds salty crispness to salads and sandwiches. (Egg salad and hamburgers being two of my favourites.)

The name "pickleweed" may come from the fact that Old Settlers jarred and pickled it; the French, among others, still do.

Or maybe it just looks like pickles. (Likewise, "sea beans" is a reference to its visual and culinary resemblance to string beans.)

The larger, mature stems, which develop a stronger, "greener" flavour, can be steamed, then the entire branch placed in the mouth and the twiggy, woody heart pulled out by the base. This novel dish is a great accompaniment to fish and seafood, and can be enjoyed with or without lemon butter. Salicornia is also one of several marine vegetables layered into New England clambakes for flavour.

In Bretagne, where it blankets whole acres, farmers run flocks of sheep on pickleweed to produce a rare and expensive delicacy called agneau pré salée (salt-pasture lamb).

Finally, the term "glasswort" recalls glassmakers of times past who burned it in large quantities to make soda ash for their craft. And Salicornia may be on the industrial rebound these days, as it's currently being investigated as a biodiesel crop.

Pickleweed is one of those plants many have seen but few have noticed; most only know it as the weed they pass on the way to the tidelands. But because it sets in quantity, is easily identified, and good eating, it's a valuable edible to know.

So keep an eye out for Salicornia in your beach rambles. This uniquely delicious wild food may significantly enrich the experience.

Hermitcraft: Fucus

Though delicious, Fucus (FYOO-kuss) has a marketing problem. The genus sounds like some kind of fungal disease; its common names – rockweed, bladderwrack – are hardly better. But once you've tasted it, nothing else will do.

Fucus is a distinctive, prolific seaweed, readily identified by the yellow-green "mittens" at the end of each frond. These endear it to children, who love to pop them. Incredibly tenacious, bladderwrack thrives in the harsh upper tidal zone, and is therefore accessible at all but the highest tides.

This remarkable alga, adapted to long, thirsty stretches high and dry, will keep for a week or more in the refrigerator. Used fresh, it lends nutrients and a suggestion of shrimp to sauces and soups. The flavour compliments tomato bases especially well.

Fucus also dries readily, dwindling to unrecognisable wiry black shreds that spring miraculously back to life after a brief soak. (It's also one of the rare marine algae that bear up in fresh water.)

Dried bladderwrack can be lightly toasted and crumbled on salads and baked potatoes, for mock-crustacean tang. Eaten as a snack chip, it goes surprisingly well with a crisp blond beer.

Fresh Fucus is a powerful source of Vitamin C, while protein accounts for up to 25 per cent of its dried weight. In the past, bladderwrack tea (see below) was taken for goiter, a painful swelling of the thyroid glands occasioned by iodine deficiency – yet another Fucus asset. Full-spectrum nutrition also made bladderwrack tea a traditional, if ironic, response to both starvation and obesity in Scottish fishing villages.

On the scientific front, modern studies have found that Fucus extracts reduce plasma cholesterol in rats, are an effective anticoagulant, and may even be useful in treating radiation poisoning.

The resilience of this vinyl-looking weed means that you can often gather heaps of it from the beach after a storm; if sufficiently fresh, all it needs is a vigorous wash and you've got pounds of delicious food. (On sand beaches it can be difficult to get the grit off those sticky clusters, but I just dry them on a clothesline and bag the result. What sand survives washing and drying collects in the bottom of the sack.)

But do check for barnacles and epiphytes before collecting a washed-up clump. In the open sea bladderwrack often plays host to a variety of other life forms, and is increasingly likely to be encrusted the further out you get from new spring growth.

In calmer waters, where Fucus blankets logs, pilings, and rocks, you can simply snip fronds from the growing plant, leaving the rest intact. Because it grows so densely you can gather quite a bit this way in little time, with minimal impact to the community.

So give Fucus a try on your next beach trip. Those who get past the name(s) soon come to appreciate its true beauty.

A few recipes:

o Bladderwrack Tea

(This "tea", which tastes more like a seafood stock, is savoury and satisfying.)

Steep 1 tablespoon of dried and toasted Fucus in a cup of boiling water, or four tablespoons in a pot, for about 10 minutes. Strain and drink.

Typical amendments include soy sauce, black pepper, lemon juice, hot sauce, and malt vinegar. My favourite: seafood cocktail sauce. (A smooth variety, without pickle chunks.)

The leftover leaves can be used in cooking.

o Bladderwrack Breakfast

Slice up some bacon or sausage and fry it soft. Pour off the fat that pours off.

Add minced garlic and chopped onion.

Add chopped fresh Fucus. (Make sure to slice the mittens in half, or they'll explode in your face.)

Throw in a diced tomato, or canned equivalent. In the absence of these, I use tomato juice or sauce.

Sauté till the bladderwrack is bright green and tender. (Bear in mind it'll always remain al dente.)

Grind in some black pepper and serve over rice, or as a side dish with eggs, hash browns, etc.