Posts Tagged ‘forage


blackberries and fennel

San Francisco has huge stands of feral fennel, and something in their smell reminds me of the smell of blackberries. I didn’t think of trying the two together in time to do it last summer, but tonight, the two met, in two preparations.

Savory: Fennel and blackberries tossed with a lemon-olive oil dressing, a variation Mark Bittman’s fennel and apple salad with mustard vinaigrette (number 16 here). It was alright, but not great. Maybe I should have taken inspiration from his fennel and prunes with ginger vinaigrette (number 12 here). Ginger might have helped.

Sweet: This is a winner. I wilted some fennel in olive oil on the stove, to simulate the effects of baking. Drained the fennel and tossed it and some blackberries with a little sugar and cinnamon. That would make a wonderful pie filling. Now if only I can get enough blackberries for a reasonable enough price before the end of their season…

And the end of their season is clearly coming soon. I bought my half pint at Bi Rite around 2 this afternoon, and long before I got home (around 10), they were deliquescing and smelling more fermented than herbal-tangy-sweet.


Blackberry on FoodistaBlackberry


learning to forage

While J-P and I were hiking the Marin headlands this week, we paused to pick and eat blackberries anywhere we saw them. It seemed we were late in their season, though: we saw few ripe berries, and few red ones nearby when we saw those. No green ones, and no flowers. (It also didn’t help, I’m sure, that there were many other visitors to the park.)

I realized as we walked that it bothered me that I didn’t know how to eat from this landscape. Growing up in Texas, I learned plenty about which wild plants were edible. Dewberries, prickly pear pads (nopales) and fruits (tunas), pecans, pine nuts, agarita berries (shake them off the tree, don’t pick!), wild onions, pepperweed (which turns out to be a European import), dandelion greens, mesquite flour (even though the plant was a nuisance), acorns (after a lot of soaking), even cattail roots, or so I heard. As a gardener in Austin, I learned a few more, like henbit, chickweed, and purslane. Then there was the urban forage in Austin: pears, persimmons, pomegranates, loquats… If I somehow had to, I could get by.

I never had the urge to learn the same skill in Massachusetts, although I did add lambs’ quarters, wood strawberries, and the identification of maples (for syrup, of course) and walnuts to my repertoire. Urban forage came to include apples and cherries, too.

Maybe I didn’t feel the need in Massachusetts because I was already too busy adapting to the climate to bother with the landscape. Or maybe it was that our time outside of the city was mostly on our bikes, not on foot. Or maybe it was that, though foreign to me, the flora there wasn’t as gobsmackingly foreign as it is in California. Whatever the cause, I was feeling the lack of my old skill.

prickly pear by tomas castelazo

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