The rooty things were definitely carrot family, but the carrot was an odd mutation, cultivated for only about 4000 years. These roots were edible when small, before turning woody and tough. There were dandelions, plantains, mint, and some spring fruit coming in, but it would be a while before those developed. Still, they could have some starch from the tubers and blanched acorns they had on hand. “What do you think about rice?” Ortiz called down from the goat pen. “Got any?” “No, but Bob thinks he can harvest it off the river like the Urushu. Can we build a rice paddy?” “It’s possible, but we’d need to dig out a field up here and it wouldn’t be much.” “I like rice. I never got into potatoes that much.” That was not uncommon for Central Americans and Asians. They’d be happier than she would. She loved rice, but potatoes were tasty things with scallions and sour cream, and she could do that here, if she had potatoes. Rice wouldn’t work as well. Her rake was hand lashed from a sapling root.
