The Lost Art of Forgotten Foods
I recently
discovered a garden growing right here in Fort
Collins that I’d never seen before. I had heard myths,
and rumors of it’s existence, but it had always seemed so distant, so elusive,
like a childhood dream that you want so much to believe in but are barely able
to recall. This garden has been abandoned and neglected longer than I’ve been
alive. Actually, attempts have been made without success to eradicate it. But,
thankfully, it’s still here, growing food without, and in spite of, the hand of
man. Most of the plants growing in this garden cannot be bought at the grocery
store, or the farmers markets, even though it’s local.
This garden
also grows the widest variety of food types of any garden I’ve ever seen. There
are spring greens growing before most farmers are even thinking about planting
(I know, I know, farmers are always thinking about planting…), and some of
these are tender and good enough to eat into late august, after my garden
lettuce has turned to a bitter bolted green. There are edible flowers, with
flavors too good to be true. Vegetables ripen all summer long. Berries begin ripening in June and last well
into autumn. There are fruits and nuts which fall to the ground by the
bushel-full, only to be despised for disturbing our hard earned
landscapes. There are beans. There are
seeds, and grains, and pollens to be made into flours and breads and cereals.
And fresh tubers can be had all the winter long, so long as you can dig the
ground, from natures best root cellar.
Herbs to be dried for teas and medicines abound, begging somebody to
pick them, use them, love them. There are wild animals to be seen. Foxes, deer,
squirrels, skunks, hawks, owls and eagles. Tanagers, flickers, robins and
hummingbirds. Frogs, toads, turtles and snakes. They all eat freely from this
garden, as does my family, and still there is plenty.
We come
here together, for nourishment. We go there alone, for solitude.
In researching
the history of this garden, it seems to have been here all along, as far back
as anyone can remember. No one claims to
have planted it. The natives peoples who lived among and travelled this region
ate from it. All of their food came from it, as well as the fibers for their
clothing. They say the Creator gave it to them as a gift, to shelter them and
feed them, to keep them healthy, and to restore their health when they became
ill. In return, they have promised to protect it, and not to destroy it.
By the end
of the nineteenth century however, most of the natives had been confined to
reservations, their lore and history, and means of living in harmony with
nature going with them. The settlers despised the natives as savages, would
have none of their food. Thus the garden was forgotten.
As cities
and farms grew the garden was encroached upon. It shrank to but a fraction of
its original size. But it survived.
Then came
the great depression, and the people of this region, town and country folk
alike, began to go to this garden, seeking its food, mostly out of necessity.
Most people had long since forgotten how to recognize and eat the food they
found growing in this garden, if they had ever known at all. Thus accounts from
this time often describe frustrating attempts to eat this food, with flavors
being described as bad, bland, bitter, palatable, or OK. But no one
intentionally lives on food that is “palatable,” or “OK.” Eventually the
depression went away, and the people forgot the garden. Again.
The same
thing happened during world war two, but to a lesser degree. Remarkably,
however, the garden is still here today, and you can go to it almost any day of
the year and find good food. My family and I come here every chance we get, and
we always find much more than food. Each time a new discovery is made. A new
plant found or identified. A bug we’ve never seen before. Deer eating the same
food that we’re eating. Sunlight slanting through the branches of a tree you’ve
seen a thousand times before, making it look new. I feel like a kid again when
I’m out here, filled with awe and discovery.
Some of the
food growing here you have already heard of. Some of it may be strange and
exotic. Some are common plants you see everyday, but never recognized as food.
All of it is medicine. When you eat from this garden you are truly fulfilling
the Hippocratic oath, “Let food be thy medicine, and medicine be thy food.” You
begin to feel younger, to want to go outside more. When you leave your house it
becomes an adventure, never knowing what you’ll return home with. You’ll become
acquainted with nature in a way you never knew was possible. You will trust
her. You will feel at home. You will be a part of a tradition as ancient as
humanity itself, fulfilling a desire you may not even know you have. This is the forager’s garden, and it’s right
outside your door.
Everybody eats, and foraging is the
oldest occupation known to man. And, contrary to popular opinion, it is also
one of the safest. The biggest fear people have with wild foods is eating a
poisonous plant, but this never needs to happen.
There are a
few simple guidelines to follow which will ensure you’ll never eat a poisonous
plant.
The first is never eat a plant (or
anything for that matter) unless you know with absolute certainty what it is,
which part of it is food, and how to prepare it. Many of the foods we eat on a
regular basis are harmful if these steps are not taken, but that doesn’t stop
us from eating them. The most obvious example is rhubarb. The stems are food,
the rest of the plant is poisonous. But we eat it anyway, because we know how,
and we like it. So know a plant before you eat it, or have it prepared by
someone who does. You know the difference between a strawberry and an apple,
and when you go to the grocery store you can tell them apart, even if someone
switches the labels on them. Know your wild foods just as well, and you’re
safe.
As foragers, we often eat what are
commonly considered weeds, and people spray weeds. Don’t harvest any plant that
is wilted, or has mutated growth. Look for evidence of spraying on the other
plants nearby. If you find a nice curly dock plant growing amongst a bunch of
dead or wilted leafy spurge, don’t harvest there, move on. Use your nose too,
if an area has been recently sprayed you may not see it, plants take a while to
wilt, but often you can smell it. Some places to avoid are railroad tracks and
road sides. These are almost always sprayed, and even if you find good looking
food growing there, pass up the temptation and move on. It is disheartening to
see the amount of poison we dump on the earth these days, but if we realize
that most of the plants we try to kill by poisoning are actually good for us, we
may just be able to make an impact.
Another
rule, know how to eat your food. Some foods, such as fruit, and young tender
greens, are fine eaten raw, and even better when eaten right where you find
them. Picking your own food is a joy that can’t be bought. Other foods, such as
potatoes, or black locust beans, need to be cooked if eaten in significant
amounts.
Also, when
eating a new food, exercise some restraint the first time. Take a small bite,
if it tastes bad for God’s sake spit it out. We have tastebuds for a reason. If
it tastes good, eat a little bit, but don’t overdo it, give your body some time
to react. (I don’t know of any poisonous food that tastes good, so, if you’re
going to disregard rule number one, which is know your food, at least pay
attention to this one.) You can eat too much of anything and get sick. So just
taste your new food first, and as you taste it, imagine what other foods or
flavors would go well with it. There are literally thousands of flavors
available, and we eat only a handful of them in our regular diets. With wild
food you’ll discover new and exciting flavors you never dreamed of. Some of
these you’ll like, and some of them you won’t. But don’t always trust your
first taste. There are many factors that contribute to flavor, and many foods
that I’ve disliked the first time I tried them are now my favorites.
Another
thing to know is when to harvest your food. You don’t buy under-ripe, out of
season produce from the supermarket (ha ha), so don’t pick it that way either. Again,
this comes from knowing your food. But this gets exciting. Unlike the
supermarket, where you can pretty much buy the same food in January as you can
in July, foraging has it’s own seasons, each with it’s own unique array of
foods. This helps break the monotony in the kitchen, and in your life as well.
It is exciting to look forward to next spring, when you’ll be able to harvest
cattail pollen. You sure can’t just go to the store and buy a bag of it. Yet.
If you are
not already a person who likes to cook, chances are you’ll become one. There
are hundreds of foods which can be eaten raw, or with little preparation.
Plants in this category include amaranth and lamb’s quarters- good raw when
young and tender, and good as cooked greens the rest of the time. Use them just
as you would spinach. Some plants make great vegetables with a little more
effort, such as peeling an outer layer, or removing from a husk or a pod.
Plants in this category include burdock and thistle stalks, ground cherries,
etc. And alas, some plants require great commitment on your part to render them
ready to eat. Plants in this category include acorns, black walnuts, and the
foods which you will use as flours. These foods will literally change your
life, simply on account of the amount of time you’ll be spending with them.
But, like all things in life, the more time, effort, love and care you put into
something, the greater will be the reward you gain from it.
Foraging
isn’t going into the woods and ingesting random plants, it’s finding food,
almost everywhere you go, and figuring out the best way to eat it. It’s like a
where’s Waldo puzzle where almost everyone on the page is Waldo. It’s a sacred
adventure in a world of desecration. And it helps to restore our lost
connection to nature, in all it’s guises. Far from being and fearful dangerous
pastime, it sets you free from fear by making you more aware of your
surroundings. You’ll learn more about plants than you ever thought possible.
More about the animals that inhabit your favorite haunts, more about the
seasons and how they change, more about the wind and the water, the earth and
the sky. And more about yourself as well. With each new discovery you’ll be
made new. There’s no end of things to learn.
I am by no
means an expert. The more I learn about plants the more I realize how little I
know. I’m not looking to teach you about wild foods. I’m looking for people who
care about where their food comes from. People who are excited to be outside,
who don’t mind putting a little, or a lot, of effort into something good.
People to pick berries with. People to try new and exciting foods with, foods
that I’ve never eaten, or new recipes for old favorites. People who want to
learn, and never stop growing. People who will wade into a cattail marsh in
November and come out wet and muddy and smiling with a handful of roots. People
to spot that hawk circling in the sky, with a snake dangling from it’s claws.
People who want to be alive. If that’s you, let’s go.
