Welp, it’s November, food & foraging friends!
I’m going to depart from my normal format this month, because it’s not a normal month. But stay with me, there will be wild edible plants!
Kill Bill is one of my all-time favorite movies. And to explain why, I need to give you a little background. Before the chronic illness ME/CFS devastated me physically, I was a hardcore athlete who qualified for the Boston Marathon in my second-ever race, and boxed against a woman who went pro and was ranked third in our weight class. I lost terribly the first time, but had the heart and foolishness to fight her a second time, and lose even worse (stopped by TKO in a matter of seconds). I biked and drummed and danced and climbed.
When chronic illness hit me overnight, I had to completely reinvent myself – a story I tell in this piece, Slow Foraging, which just came out in the gorgeous magazine Mushroom People Volume II. And that meant learning to channel that singular physical energy and discipline into a mental form, because exertion made me ill. So when Uma Thurman’s character The Bride conjures the will to wiggle her big toe out of paralysis or the determination to punch her way out of her own grave, it spoke to both my former physical warrior and my newfound spiritual one.
The thing about that grave scene I didn’t appreciate until this month is that it was about so more than determination. Uma’s character had honed critical skills that she didn’t know would save her life until the moment she needed them (the signature move that got her out of the grave was one she’d practiced for years).
Right now, with the fate of my beloved city (see: DC Home Rule), hard-working friends’ jobs at federal agencies, and so many other things on the line, I’m seeing many of the activities I do because they bring me joy in a new light. Foraging, gardening, hosting travelers, the project I founded for artists with chronic illness — all are networks that can be safety nets of support, helping foster resilience in difficult times.
A recent New York Times piece entitled “Weeds are Everywhere. Why Aren’t We Eating Them More?” delves into edible weeds, able to thrive in challenging weather and soil conditions, plants like galinsoga, amaranth and purslane I often cover in this newsletter, and yet often overlooked by foragers seeking scarcities like ramps and morels: “According to the regenerative land steward and chef Katrina Blair, the author of “The Wild Wisdom of Weeds”, the prolific nature of such plants — and their nutritional value — makes them ideal for an era marked by instability. “Weeds offer a path to sustain us through uncertain times,” she says.
At Bloom, I work with farmers throughout Maryland, who face a lot of uncertainty of their own right now. Many had to disc under crops due to weather conditions this year, and global crop prices are in decline. Weeds are just one of many worries for them, yet one more thing that can cut into their declining yields. But for us backyard gardeners and city slickers, invasive weeds can be a silver lining and a lifeline: something free and nutritious we can count on in our diets that we can forage freely without disrupting the ecosystem.
Left/top: Edible weeds found on a single quick neighborhood stroll – amaranth, oxalis, chickweed, mallow, bedstraw, galinsoga, shepherd’s purse, henbit and lemon balm.
Right/bottom: Top row, botanical ingredients steeping in alcohol and honey for an amaro and oxymel respectively. Bottom row, spruce, ground pine, and a spruce-pine sugar.
For me, this time of year is about taking stock: what did I set out to do this year versus where the year actually took me, and where to invest my precious time and energy next year (less worrying and mindless scrolling, for one). It’s also literally about taking stock of what’s in my pantry, and trying to capture whatever last greens, roots, berries and other goodies I can from the neighborhood.
As of last weekend, I’ve got an oxymel and 14-ingredient amaro in the works, both with some last marigold blooms and the few hawthorn berries the cedar-apple rust didn’t destroy (this fungus has taken over an increasing number of serviceberry, crabapples, and other malus genus trees in our area), among many other things, from fig and carrot leaves to mugwort and catnip. I’m also making herb salts, sugars, syrups and pestos. And I know in a month or two, I’ll regret not doing even more!
If you’ve got the winter doldrums before the season even starts (not going to sleep at eight, no, not me), I’ve got a class for you! My conifers & cocktails class will teach you how to safely identify evergreens you can find and play with all winter long. We’ll make our own evergreen needle sugar scrub while sipping on an ANXO cocktail made especially for our class. There are a handful of seats left for the December 1 class, but a little bird told me it will be covered in the Washington Post‘s upcoming Going Out Guide, so I’m expecting that to fill up.
Until the next, I hope your Thanksgiving is full of great food, family, friends, and fungi! Don’t forget to do a post-holiday walk for turkey tails and other fun guys in the woods. I’m grateful for you all!
Wildly yours,
April
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PPS: If you decide to pick up a copy of Mushroom People II (a great gift for mycophiles!), the publisher gave me a code to share for 15% off: FIFTEENFORME at checkout.