foraging

After a long winter like the one we just suffered through, most of us here in Minnesota are anxious to get outside and enjoy some nice weather. Last week, I had the opportunity to get out trout fishing with my 2-year-old son. We walked along a river bank south of Rochester and didn’t catch a thing but we were outside and it was wonderful. As we went along, I couldn’t help but notice all the broad green leaves sticking up out of the ground. They were instantly recognizable as ramps and my trout-fishing day turned into a ramp-picking day.

Spring is finally here, and along with it comes a whole new hunting season. I’m not referring to the spring turkey season; I’m talking about the spring foraging season. As the woods and prairies come alive with new growth, a plethora of wild edibles come into season. From May until the first snow falls, there are literally thousands of wild plants that grow in the wild. And these plants, berries, and mushrooms are as delicious – if not more delicious – than anything you can buy in the grocery store. I love getting out into the woods and finding wild foods that I can take home, not just because of their distinctive flavors but also because foraging is a great way for me to stay connected with nature and to scout possible hunting areas for the upcoming fall hunting season. 

Header photo: Burdock by Shastared

The day might have made a magnificent postcard. Spring was staining trees with subtle hints of summer. A stream was carrying on an animated conversation with raindrops. Rocks were locked in a shining dual with water. Some humans, armed with buckets, boots, and plastic suits, stumbled toward the stream. They worked in silence, selecting tender sections of watercress. Then one of them spoke: "This is beautiful. It looks like a rain forest." I shot a surprised glance at the speaker. Blood sucking insects and relentless rain had clouded my beauty sensors. But the world in which we waded was indeed exquisite.

I was in New York last week and saw something peculiar at one of the farmers markets: lambs quarters and nettles selling for several dollars a pound. I guess it's understandable considering those weeds probably aren't thriving between sidewalk cracks in New York; but in Minneapolis, it's another story. Here, these delectables are growing in great abundance just outside your front door.

Imagine that you are from a place and a time where your life, your very existence, is inextricably linked to the land. Imagine that you know the environment around you so intimately that you can spot the swish of a lizard's tail in the undergrowth twenty feet off. That you can differentiate an edible plant from its poisonous cousin from touch alone. That by tasting the soil, you can divine what plants will and will not flourish. That you can disappear into the forest or jungle and emerge 60 minutes later with dinner for your family. That even though your family grows food on a farm, you often venture off with friends to gather what is offered in the wild. That some of your earliest memories are following your mother through the jungle as she bends and stoops to gather greens. That you remember hearing laughter as she and the other women banter back and forth between patches of wild edibles.