Since moving to the countryside, I’ve taken an interest in foraging. This started with the discovery of marsh samphire growing in the tidal lagoon near our house. Marsh samphire is an edible, salt-tolerant succulent that goes well with fish and seafood dishes, and over the summer months, we came, we saw, and we picked it frequently (sustainably, of course).
Fresh, wild food can taste phenomenal, and the samphire discovery massively piqued my interest in the activity of foraging, so I upped the stakes by purchasing a book about it, a foraging bag, and a mushroom knife. Hardcore, I know, but that’s how I roll.
What’s the appeal? Well, aside from the outdoor nature of the activity and the taste of the food, part of me is very aware that we are always only a zombie apocalypse away from having to rely on nature for survival (and yes, I have been watching The Last of Us on HBO). So foraging complements my keenness to survive in the wilds without the comforts of modern life.
The next step was attending a full-day foraging course in a spot on the coast near our home. Despite the weather being that particular combination of cold and wet that the Welsh coast can only seem to provide, the experience was enriching and informative. We discovered the tastes and textures of wild plants such as Alexanders (see photo above), sea beet, common sorrel, gorse (flowers), scurvy grass, and sea radish.
One of the key learnings I took from the day was the strange juxtaposition within foraging of the genteel nature of the whole activity (middle-class, basket-carrying, GORE-TEX-clad hikers picking leaves in the countryside) and the ever-present danger of picking the wrong thing and effectively killing your whole family by poisoning them. Case in point, Alexanders is a member of the Carrot family that grows in coastal areas and on clifftops, and pretty much all the plant can be eaten (the stems have a similar texture to celery, the leaves are like parsley, the roots can be roasted like parsnips, and the black seeds can be used as a pepper-like spice). However, Alexanders can also be mistaken for Hemlock Water Dropwort, which is perhaps the most poisonous indigenous plant in the UK. The whole of this plant is toxic, and some estimates suggest the mortality rate may be about 70%. The plant contains oenanthotoxin, which is a central nervous system poison, and in the ancient Mediterranean, plants containing this toxin were used as a humane form of euthanasia. Elderly people unable to support themselves were fed the plant and then killed by dropping from a high rock or by beating to death (taking a rather belts and braces approach to getting the job done, in my view). Interestingly, the facial muscular contraction induced by the plant (which is a sardonic herb) would mimic a smile, giving rise to the expression, sardonic smile to indicate a sinister smile.
Obviously, learning to avoid the wrong plant is a critical part of foraging. The risk of death during a dinner party is a risk no one wants. But for me, foraging as an activity is attractive because of the way it connects us to elements of food, yes, but also nature and culture, which in themselves are often intertwined with our history. Plus, when the apocalypse comes, I’ll still be able to make a nice salad.
