Agretti Spaghetti, or the little sour one

As a baker, I can probably taste dozens of different shades of sweet, and gosh it's lovely, but after a spell of back-to-back baking, I usually want to run to the other side of my tongue for a while.

 This probably explains my love for all things brine: pickled vegetables, sauerkraut*, bracingly tart citrus cocktails, and well, anything with lemon juice. Salty seaweed sits at the opposite flavor pole to butter cream frosting.  

I used to pick sourgrass (also commonly known as soursop, sorrel, or the adorable bermuda buttercup; botanical name is oxalis pes-caprae) with my next door neighbor wherever we spied it, up to and including our front yards, slopes at the park, poking through chain link and picket fences, and clinging to road medians. Our foraging skills gave me a (false) sense of bravado, as if we could survive days without going home to Mom and Dad, subsisting on sourgrass. I felt I belonged to a secret club of adventurers, as mushroom hunters might feel, privileged to know that something not everyone knew to be edible, actually was. Not only that, it tasted like a fresh crunchy pickle in wild grass form.

Well, have you had land seaweed?