When I was in New England with my American Grandmother, I bought a little cardboard box with a lump of hard chewing gum in it, labelled 'Spruce Gum'.
It tasted strongly of resin, a taste as overpowering as menthol that snorted down your nostrils in gusts of pain and challenged you not to gag. It reminded me of the contests we used to have at school to see who could keep a Fisherman's Friend in their mouth the longest.
Gran told me that when she was a child they used to pick the gum off the spruce trees that grew all around her house, and chew it just like that!
My father once persuaded me to chew on a lump of spruce sap. Mind you, he also taught me how to drink the nectar from dead nettle flowers, so I can forgive him that.
ReplyDeleteWhat a good father! I used to drink the honey from purple clover and I once met someone who ate tulips.
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