I’m starting to wonder if the word “Foodie” is overused. I’d like to call it an unbridled enthusiasm for cooking and eating instead. That’s it’s very definition for me. I’ve discovered an exciting amount of wild edibles growing on the land that have sparked my interest. Long forgotten flavours that our ancestors ate as vegetables they had growing outside of their homes. There is something enticing in that thought and realising that we can EAT these plants is just impossible to resist. In doing some research and already knowing a little about wild plants, I knew a few goodies were out there waiting for me to have a tentative nibble. There are several chefs around the world who are into foraging and experimenting with their local plant life, even growing them in their kitchen gardens right now. I admire that some are reintroducing these old flavours in a modern way, albeit in an extremely high-end and expensive way. If only for the nutrition wild plants provide and some new tastes that are out there for free, I feel I must try them all. I love a good forage. In autumn, my mushroom senses start tingling when the conditions are right so I head out with my special knife, from a dear friend who also understands, and a favourite basket. I’m not much of a morning person so mushrooming happens for me as early as I can possibly manage which is like 8. I creep out alone and hit a few good places I know. The year before last, I had my best ever haul one morning. My basket was full to the brim with Boletus Edulis (Ceps/ or Porcini) and I was beside myself with excitement. I think I even had them stuffed into my coat pockets. It’s a feeling that must be experienced to believe. Wow, I can’t wait for autumn, but with my latest plant discoveries I think I’ll be ok all summer. What’s more, they’re right outside and I don’t have to get there before the flies. My passion for foraging in this country began in 2003 but goes back well before then. As a child hunting wild White-tailed deer with my father out in the deep country of Northern California, he imparted his knowledge, love and respect for the seemingly endless and powerful nature that surrounded us. We’d usually set out around 3 AM to get to a spot before sunrise which for a 14 year-old girl was quite a mission. My Dad took it all very seriously too. There was to be no complaining and all of our clothing had to be washed in unscented detergent. I admired his dedication as it all seemed quite sensible and necessary to what we were going out to potentially do. Days before the outing he would gather everything we needed, checked it over and even practiced shooting his bow to ensure we would be ready. I will never forget the bags of sunflower seeds and the staggeringly beautiful sunrises we got to see. He said to me once that this was his church. I felt the same way and that feeling is all beautifully relevant to me today in the form of my interest in being a solitary Pagan. Now it was too easy to start nodding off when the sun came up, but sometimes I would find that when left all alone to ‘cover that patch of woods’ or ‘just wait by that road across the valley’ unarmed, I was definitely awake. There are in fact mountain lions and black bear out there! My Dad seemed to know they weren’t there so I trusted that. Some of you may be smiling right now as you read because you know exactly how that feels! So if he made a kill, we would first have to track it down and with his special bone handled knife, he would relieve the animal of its entrails where it laid. Stay with me here, it was really not that bad and the level of respect my Dad showed for the deer giving it’s life to us made it a meaningful task. I like to think that comes from our small amount of Native American blood, that old reverence for the spirit of the animal. He would always keep the liver to bring home to offer it to his mother, my Grandma, and her waiting frying pan. That was usually where we went first as I recall, to my grandparent’s house to skin and hang up the body. It was all kind of ceremonial and a spiritual experience that has become a part of me too. I loved how everyone in the family got excited when someone ‘got a deer’ and we would stand around to hear the story and watch the gestures the hunter would make to tell everyone how it all happened. Sometimes this would be done by phone of course and my Dad would make excited noises as if he were there in person. After the deer was left to age for a few days, this huge carcass needed to be processed by hand so it would often end up on our kitchen island. Dad knew how to make all the right cuts of meat and would talk about what the animal ate and it’s free-range life before. Nothing went to waste and the meat was shared around the family if needed. Freezers were stocked up like this annually. I wish I had some in mine now, especially the meat of those mountains. It’s all so far removed for most people, including me, as today we mainly buy our meat in shops or maybe a local farm shop (organically produced if we’re lucky). Here at the homestead, we make an effort to buy small amounts of organic meat and hope that it’s what it claims to be. We could eat plenty of pigeons and squirrels, maybe even those deer I mentioned last time if we had to. Salads of young beech leaves, plantain, young yarrow, wild garlic, purple dead nettle, dandelion flowers and leaves, shepherd’s purse and sweet violets would go nicely with that. The other day, I read that you can eat wild hop shoots and that some say they’re the most expensive vegetable in the world. We have them springing up in abundance near the vegetable garden so I went to pick 4 or 5. I carefully shaved off the spiky outer layer on the bines as a lady I follow online has done at Noma. I sauteed them, leaves and stems, in butter with a tiny bit of rice bran oil. They were very delicately flavoured so I think I’ll leave them to grow in future. I guess ‘Wild Hop Shoots’ on a menu sounds exciting! These are mostly spring ingredients and into summer I’m hoping to find more delicious things to add to the repertoire. I’m getting a lot of help from the children too who enjoy cutting small amounts to taste and learn the names of the things we’re harvesting. It’s amazing how empowered a child feels when they’re allowed scissors! They have to be watched and made to understand that they must check with me first before touching anything. We’ll bring the colander in, gently wash off any beasties and chop or leave whole the leaves or stems depending on what we’re thinking of making. A few days ago, it was a yarrow and tender hedge garlic scrambled egg dish my little daughter and I made. I recommend this, it was delicious and great finished with some celery salt. I wonder if I can get the hens to eat some of these plants so we can have extra yummy eggs. I’ll keep you posted on that one. They are inherited old girls and seem to only like their cracked corn, layers pellets and stale rice cakes…for now.