When something is called after the patron saint of fishermen (Saint Pierre) and prized for being the poor man’s salty asparagus, then you can be sure that it has a strong connection with the sea.
In North Wales, apparently they call it sampkin.
So we were going to have a foraging meal for today’s wild adventure – but the local stocks in Hen Harbwr Penbre seemed quite deprived – so we left them for another day.
I really like the sound of pickled samphire – and I really, really like the sound of pickled sampkin. And by the ‘sound’, I really mean the ‘sound’. They must squeak on your teeth.
I guess there’s only one way to find out!