I have previously confessed that my love of edible forest gardening is a direct result of being a gluttonous slattern.
I don't use the term 'weeds' because, after some years of carefully cultivating edible wild plants - blackthorn, blood-veined sorrel, horseradish, Good King Henry, sea beet, winter purslane etc, I realised my garden consists mainly of that which the council sprays with poison by the roadside. But this, of course, is precisely why I offer it an urban organic sanctuary.
Dandelions, however, are in no need of my charity. When Inca was alive it was pleasing to tear up big handfuls for her and spare the kale and broccoli, but now she has wheeked her last wheek and there are too many sauté dandelion greens for dinners. The raw leaves are too bitter in any quantity for my green smoothies and I am not going out to dig up their roots every day because this is time-consuming and dandelion coffee sounds like a lot of work for minimal reward thus is wholly incompatible with my tenets of edible forest gardening. I don't do anything out there that doesn't taste good, smell good or feel good. All I really want to do is keep the dandelions from going to seed and thus completely dominating the other weeds, uh, plants, I mean, and I require delicious motivation for this task ('Will Garden For Food'). This reminded me of controlling the gaudy orange nasturtiums by eating seed pod capers. De-budding the dandelions every day would both prevent them going to seed AND pre-empt their gauche yellow flowers (look, I don't like orange and yellow in a Scottish garden, ok? I'm tweedy).
It's possible to pickle the buds like nasturtium seeds but I fried them - in proper fat, not some hideous calorie-free chemical abomination - until they were crispy, then drained them on kitchen paper and scarfed the lot.
This does not so much commend the dandelion bud as confirm my long-held belief that pretty much anything will taste ok if it's fried...