It has been about 12,000 years since we emerged from an existence based on hunting and gathering. One could easily image that back then the ability to forage was the most important skill imaginable. Today, it is thought of more as an interesting hobby, or perhaps a way of hedging a bet on an imagined future world apocalypse. Most people I meet seem to love the concept of foraging but are often confused about where to start. Few realize we live in a veritable wonderland of edible delights, with good eating steps away from our doors. Most will agree the idea of free, tasty food and the act of communing with nature strikes a harmonious chord within everyone.
We have obviously evolved from the need for daily foraging for our sustenance. In the modern world, we can easily buy food from a store or order it over the Internet. The ability to forage is not usually needed for day-to-day survival (at least not yet: cue the zombie apocalypse footage). You may, however, find that foraging teaches you important life lessons that serve you well under many circumstances. Ultimately, foraging teaches you how to be resourceful, independent, confident, and humble. Good foraging is also about surviving.
Many people in our society have lost the close connections and rhythms with the seasons we all used to share. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t look at the past as a utopian time. It may be appealing to think our ancestors looked at our planet the way an infant looks at his mother—with a mixture of wonder, awe, gratitude, and love. It was more like an unrelenting battle to survive against animals, the natural elements, and fellow humans to eke out a meager existence. Living well was making it through a tough winter without starving or freezing. Those who excelled at foraging were appointed the leaders and providers of society.
Here on Vancouver Island, one can easily imagine the local First Nations villages were a beehive of foraging activity. The early settlements on the Pacific coast were built by nomadic foragers. They were probably following their favourite food source over the Bering Strait (then bridged by ice) to settle on the fertile shores and valleys of the coast. Here, food was abundant and rich in nutrients. Large seasonal harvests of berries, shellfish, and salmon could be preserved and stockpiled, allowing time to develop a complex culture. Free time facilitated the development of amazingly intricate artwork and storytelling deep with symbolism and powerfully designed.
In these early settlements, we find a place where a sign of wealth and power was the act of feeding people very well. That is a fact that should cause us to pause in our bipolar world of excess and famine-tinged societies. Many of our modern health problems come down to too much or too little food. Many of the gains of our world come at the expense of our connection to nature and the fundamental rights of all humans. Having enough food to eat should be a priority on our planet. If we had kept the foragers in charge, hunger might now be a historical footnote, a challenge already conquered.
How can foraging help? First of all, foraging is about acquiring and using knowledge. Secondly, it is all about respect. Acquiring this knowledge may empower you to look at your world with a more questioning glance. Who made up the rule that all safe food must be grown using industrial, controlled production? When did we decide that if you pay nothing for an item it is worthless? Why are we obsessed with controlling nature? You may end up seeing the world as more than black and white—it may be tinged with seaweed green and chanterelle yellow.
Foraging teaches us to be resourceful, cautious, frugal, and happy—even just a little bit. In many ways, it is not even the food that is the reward. It is the sense of accomplishment that comes from locating, identifying, and consuming wild food. And like our ancestral super-foragers, we know that people will respect and maybe even love us if we provide them a good meal.
Foraging can be a humbling task; it demands a high price for respect and is often unforgiving with mistakes. Natural hazards and poisonous pitfalls await you with every turn of the path. You need to temper your greed as well—foods that are harvested must be abundant and not at risk of disappearing forever. Harvesting too much food might result in habitat destruction or loss of abundance. Consuming too much wild food at one sitting may result in a revolt from your digestive system, reminding you that moderation is sometimes good for you. Despite all this, the rewards far out way the risks. I hope this book illustrates the joy that can be found in healthy nutritious food: glorious meals can be found at the side of a path—and mushrooms can truly be magical. Many plants improve your health and contain nutrients that can boost your immune system, sharpen brain function, and improve faculties like respiration and digestion.
All of the recipes in this book can be made with wild products you can easily forage. You can also substitute purchased ingredients for all of these foods. Foraged products are sometimes available in the marketplace. Look for establishments that feature local ingredients or visit your local farmers’ market. Increasingly, we are seeing foraged foods on menus and gracing the tables at local markets. I also encourage you to grow your own food. It is a simple act that connects us to nature and is deeply satisfying. Go out into the world and see what you can forage; you might be surprised at the abundance and diversity.
Start with the most commonly foraged products, the low-hanging fruit of the foraging world. Build your confidence, then branch out to the more complicated plants, mushrooms, and shellfish. It is a journey into the past that will allow you to commune with the dawn of humanity. Instead of surviving, you might actually find yourself living a little better. The added bonus is that when you are done foraging, you can come home to a warm bath and a relaxing beverage, like a cup of wild mint tea. That’s progress I can get behind.
Bill Jones
Deerholme Farm
Cowichan Valley, BC