As a forager, I suspect the fact that world-class chefs are gaga for wild foods at once glamorizes them and makes them seem inaccessible to the home cook.
Like so many others, I’m inspired by the imaginative and innovative cooking techniques that top-level chefs such as Rene Redzepi and Magnus Nilsson use with foraged foods, showcasing ingredients that some mock as sticks and berries to their full potential. The downside is that there seems to be a disconnect between people who are interested in eating foraged goods, and their ability to actually incorporate these wild foods into their kitchens.
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When all is said and done, we’re still talking about eating weeds. Don’t get me wrong, I love eating weeds. I’m obsessed with seeking out and collecting them to eat. They are the backbone of my kitchen. Although foraging can certainly be an adventure, the meat of it has more to do with being able to cook with the plants I see every day than any exotic or obscure finds. These aren’t the sexy plants that make foodies drivel and drool, the deep-forest mushrooms and delicate gem-like flowers. They are humble leafy greens, dock, dandelions or invasive species of mustard. These are the same weeds reviled by gardeners, cities and farmers alike.
Know your wild plants
When I teach, I encourage people to let go of their desire to have an encyclopedic knowledge of wild edibles. Instead, I talk about getting to know 10 plants very well, seeing them at every stage of growth, and knowing how to cook them at many stages. After all, I gained my own knowledge of wild plants one at a time. In some cases, it has taken me years to really understand a particular species. For an aspiring forager, it’s better to know a few wild plants well and eat them on a regular basis than it is to know how to identify hundreds of plants without ever getting comfortable enough to actually eat them. If one is to know only a few foraged foods, it makes sense that they should be ones that are close at hand.
Dandelions. Credit: Wendy Petty
Just as the majority of car accidents happen within five miles of home, simply because that is where people spend most of their time driving, most of the foods I forage are outside my door. I’m particularly fond of foraging an old irrigation ditch, which makes for a pleasant bike ride from my home to an area that used to be an apple farm 100 years ago. It’s a route I’ve traveled a few times per week over the several years.
There’s a particular joy and intimacy that comes in interacting with the same small strip of land over time. I watch the seasons progress, and know when to expect certain crops. I also get to closely monitor spraying, mowing and other man-made dangers. In that one small area, I’ve witnessed years of drought, and the shocking flood that followed. Still, I’m still surprised to see new things along my favorite ditch all the time, plants I never knew were there, new nesting birds and predators that had previously remained hidden. Knowing that place well informs how I harvest, when each plant peaks, which of them needs to be harvested immediately, and which of them needs to be protected.
No Disney characters
I sometimes get the impression that people envision foraging to involve tip-toeing through dappled light with a basket over one’s arm, birds singing background music like Disney characters in the trees. The truth is that there’s little glamor in my daily walks or rides along my ditch. In fact, foraging in this way is often sweaty and backbreaking. I wear out several pairs of shoes every year. It takes careful consideration not to damage plant populations or ecosystems. Often, it involves selecting individual leaves from plants, or visiting many locations to harvest enough of a particular plant to make a recipe. Still, I’m an awestruck witness to a quiet beauty that is both constant and ever-changing. At its best, foraging is about developing a relationship, a connection, with a place. It is the ultimate act of local eating.
All good relationships are based upon respect. In this case, respect ensures that the same plants will be available to harvest for many years, and hopefully many generations, to come. My hope is that foraged foods can gain the same celebrity as food darlings such as kale. It can start with a combination of inspiration from dazzling chefs and a deep appreciation of the weedy and abundant wild foods that grow close to home.
Dandelion Greens With Warm Bacon Vinaigrette
Serves 4
Ingredients
8 slices cooked bacon, cut into small pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil 2 shallots, finely chopped
¼ cup sherry vinegar pepper
4 eggs
8 cups dandelion greens, washed and torn into 3-inch pieces salt
Directions
1. In a skillet, brown the bacon in olive oil over medium high heat for 3 to 5 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to remove the bacon pieces and set them aside.
2. Reduce heat to medium, add the shallots, and sauté until they become translucent but not browned.
3. Add the sherry vinegar and stand back as it bubbles away for 30 seconds to a minute. Remove the vinaigrette from the heat, then stir in a pinch of black pepper.
4. In a saucepan, bring 2 inches of water to a boil and then reduce it to a bare simmer, so that a few bubbles are rising. Break each egg first into a tea cup and then gently pour it into the water. Poach the eggs for two minutes, or until the whites have set and the yolks are still soft when you push them with your finger.
5. In a large bowl, pour the vinaigrette over the dandelion greens. Give them a quick toss before transferring them to plates. Top each salad with crispy bacon pieces and a poached egg that has been blotted dry with a towel. Give each egg a sprinkling of salt and pepper before serving immediately.
Main story: Dandelion greens with warm bacon vinaigrette. Credit: Wendy Petty
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