Books are the gift that lives for years. Not just for other people but also when you get one for yourself. So what books on foraging do foragers recommend?
A strong mushroom bias from Daniel Butler including Jane Grigson’s ‘Mushroom Feast’. Daniel is an author himself, having written ‘The Owl House’, which transports you to the centre of Wales as well as sharing foraging.
Roger Phillips’ meticulously photographed books are beautiful as well as informative. We were delighted to have a mushrooming ramble led by him for the AoF annual meet-up in 2018. His books ‘Mushrooms’ and ‘Wild Food’ were specifically recommended by members.
Emily Murphy recommends “Any of the Pascal Baudar books, especially his book on Wildcrafted Fermentation. It covers so much including wild krauts and kimchis, fermented forest brews, seawater brines & plant-based cheeses!”. Working from west coast USA with a the techniques and processes he describes are transferable for using on edible plants and mushrooms growing in your terroir.
Foraging isn’t just about edible plants and mushrooms, it can also include wild materials for inks and herbal medicines.
We've gathered together ,embers’ favourite books and books written by members into two lists:
books on foraging recommended by Association of Foragers members
Foraged, not free!
Maybe the dandelion leaves I pick from my garden could be classed as free as nothing else seems to eat them apart from me. But just because I’ve not handed over money to someone for the thing I just collected from the wild doesn’t mean it’s totally free. There is an impact, a cost that’s not money.
Yesterday I found a beautiful hen of the woods, a joyous score of yummy mush. And large windfalls are bounty I can preserve now, as I prepare to live off only wild food for three months in the Wildbiome project.
As always I didn’t take it all but I took a fair chunk, and when I was cleaning it up and getting it ready to dry I discovered a whole city of woodlice and I’ve come along and destroyed their home and taken away their food.I know they just little creatures that probably don’t have the brain capacity to think beyond mating, eating and survival. But they’re still alive.
If this had been another human destroying another human’s home and taking all their food, there would be outrage, it would be in the news and people would be calling for my arrest. hile I was sorting the mushroom I had an image of really angry and shouty woodlice coming at my hands with tiny pitchforks!
This is the cost of wild food and all food eaten.we just don’t see all the insects and small mammals harmed in food industry. Food is not free, and it should have more value than just money. I’m not going to waste a single part of my mushroom because I couldn’t live with the guilt of taking away the food and shelter of another living being and then letting it go to waste.
To absolve myself, after picking the mushroom, I carefully gathered all of the woodlice that were living in there and gave them all the scraps. This included a bit of porcini ,another prize mushroom that I’d picked. felt I had to share with them. I put the woodlice in a sheltered area of my garden with the remainder of their mushroom meal in the hope they live on.However, that’s probably going to have an impact too, Nothing we do is impact free and it’s good to remember that!
Teaching foraging can be a way to welcome people to local life. Tamara Colchester shares her experience of running foraging sessions for refugees and asylum seekers.
This year I’ve focussed my foraging events on working with communities around Scotland and who don’t have easy access to time in green spaces. The range of needs and challenges are broad, and so far we’ve worked with people living with chronic illness, mental health challenges, blindness, deafblindness, trauma, and domestic abuse, as well as veterans, refugees and asylum seekers. These last two groups that have now become the main focus of our work with Plant Listening, a community interest company I formed two years ago.
Working with all of these groups has brought out the central issue of access. It’s easy to assume that living in a beautiful rural environment ensures easy access to natural spaces. I’ve now learnt that this is far from the case, and that without an invitation, a guide, as well as transport, that spending any length of time in the natural world can be either financially, physically or psychologically difficult. This is particularly true for asylum seekers and refugees, people who are living in a new country, without a network of support, local knowledge, understanding of the language or the financial means to travel.
There is a difference between the opportunities available to refugees and asylum seekers. Refugees have been given legal status, are able to have bank accounts, work, and are given a small amount of financial assistance. Asylum seekers on the other hand exist in a kind of limbo state in which they are unable to legally work, hold a bank account, or travel. Each asylum seekers is assigned to a hotel while their application is processed (this can take over a year) during which time they are given £9 a week to live on. They are threatened with deportation if they spend a night away from the hotel they have been assigned to.
As we’ve recently seen, there is some resistance to the presence of asylum seekers, and so the places they are held can become like prisons. Even where this is not the case, with no financial means there is little possibility of travel by public transport, alongside a sense of unease about their new surroundings and whether they are welcome there.
So far this year we’ve put on three pilot events for refugees and asylum seekers living in Dumfries and Glasgow. These have ranged from days at our base, a hill farm in Galloway, to local walks near their hotels, as well as an organised visit and foraging walk to Luss Estate on Loch Lomond. This diversity is helpful in mapping different options for what works and what doesn’t in offering support foraging experiences to these groups. With the generous funding from the AoF we were able to cover the food costs for three of these events, ensuring we were able to share a meal full of foraged ingredients in the peaceful surroundings of the woods.
Some of the challenges so far encountered include language barriers, transport issues, lack of follow through despite people signing up, the weather (!) and lack of funding. But all of these have been far outweighed by the beautiful experiences each event has given rise to.
Many of the attendees have expressed a deep thanks for being helped to find their way to a space in which they can spend time outside, surrounded by trees, clean water, and plants. Sennan, a man from Yemen who lost his family in the conflict there and whose journey to the UK was a harrowing ordeal, summed this up as he stood by the river watching the water. ‘My heart’ he said, ‘I can feel my heart for the first time since having to leave my country.’
If you would be interested in being involved in any events like these, or advice about planning your own, then please contact Tamara
Andy Hamilton sums up the vibe of the biggest ever gathering the Association of Foragers has had to date:
Many moons ago, and long before what3words made it big, the BBC adopted this identity policy. You’d see it in corners of studios, up on cameras and above DJ booths. Each show had three different words, the words reflecting the core values and identity of the show. Stuff like creativity, local, inclusion, nature or whatever. This year’s meet up got me thinking about the idea once more as core themes jumped out at me. It felt like these words, or words that would sit next to them in a thesaurus, were on many peoples lips.
Of course the first word had to be kindred, I even renamed the weekend Kindred 24. For me it summed up my experience at last year’s meet up and I hoped it would sum up this years too. It might have seemed like a gamble, but really it wasn’t as the weekend was full of warmth, encouragement and bonds that were being either made or strengthened. In other words it really felt like a place where kindred meet.
In fact one member was so overwhelmed by how at home she felt amongst, after years of not feeling like she belonged, that there were tears, staging “It feels like coming home”. I couldn’t agree more.
This year there was a blistering array of workshops, too many to list. But just for starters there was writing, miso, smoking, butchery, cake making, herbalism we even had a highly entertaining foragers confessional.
Each person who put together a workshop did so for free, and that of course means putting in all the preparation and carrying about a bunch of nerves beforehand. Then there was the folk who disappeared off into the kitchen especially, Alex, Rupert, Craig and Kat (from what I saw, sorry if I’ve left you out). Who worked relentlessly, managing the chaos that was the kitchen, to ensure that we ate better than Kings with two multiple course meals a day.
Ok, so I know some of you will be running for the sick bucket with this one. But it’s a fact that none of this would have come together if it wasn’t for the openness of our members. To be willing to be open with each other, to share knowledge and to be humble enough to listen to others isn’t a given in every field (pardon the pun). This was on show in abundance.
There was of course other words and phrases that I could have used, goddess – due to the drumming, late nights, laughter, drinking, poetry, fire and partial nakedness. Indeed, we are blessed in our association as we have somehow stumbled into creating a near utopian vision of the future.
We might only manage to keep it for a weekend, but to have that glimpse is rather magical and I only hope you come along to share it with us next year.
Emma Sandhu from Curious in Nature remembers the joy of her own childhood in Suburban Newcastle. She wonders if the trend for man made Fairy Doors nailed into unsuspecting trees might be a distraction from the real magic in the woods.
When I was small we used to play in the grounds of a grand Victorian Gothic psychiatric facility which stood opposite my house. The area was half-wild and full of wonderful trees. Stately, smooth-barked beeches with layers upon layers of bright green leaves, gnarled hawthorns which drew blood to match their fruit when you weren’t careful, and a twisted chestnut of eerily singular beauty
We were certain that these trees were also home to the fairies, we didn’t really need to think about it. There, in suburban Newcastle in the 1990s, the trees were magical, and the presence of magical folk was a truth we held to be self-evident. We could feel it in our bones.
Now, thirty years later,
It’s, Spring! Light and frolicsome, the world is making itself new again. Bumble bees buzz busily, songbirds greet the dawn, fluffed-up in their fresh-feathered finery. The quickening of life can be felt all around us.
I head out to the woods to drink it all in, but soon stumble across a man-made fairy trail. At first glance it looks like the work of fly-tippers, but no, this dog-eared mess is where the fairies live now.
I wish people would stop putting human stuff in the woods, it only ends up tattered and sad. Nature’s power to renew itself each spring is nothing short of miraculous. The wilder world never gets dowdy, its paint never peels.
I can’t help feeling that these fairy trails are a symptom of how far childhood has fallen away from the wilder world. In my grumpier moments I begin to worry that today’s children can only see fairies if they’re clearly presented in a designated, manufactured area.
I raised my own children in a tenement flat in a busy part of Glasgow. I was a struggling single mum, and we didn’t have much access to outdoor space. There was a swing park opposite, but the road was too dangerous for them to go alone, so I always came too and we never stayed that long. When we moved to a house with a garden in 2018. I remember having to explain to them that they could go outside any time they wanted. But they didn’t.
When I think about the scant opportunities my kids had to explore the wilder world alone, I know I let them down. We can never get those days of wonder back.
I wonder if this all-too-common sense of loss of the wilder world explains the rise of the seticky-tacky human-made fairy trails. Are we responding to our grief for the wild magic we have lost and failed to pass on to our sweet, indoor children?
In my less grumpy moments, I know we can always find wonder in the wilder world, no matter our stage of life. Nature renews itself every year and it’s never too late to go down to the woods today!
And, if you should find yourself trundling round a synthetic fairy trail during the holidays, try walking slowly, like a curious snail…Take your time and look closely. The real fairy doors and secret beetle-burrow windows are still there behind the fading figurines, the magic is waiting to be found, between the mushrooms and moss, just where we left it.
Ru Kenyon writes about the connection between his foraging practice in both everyday living and work as a foraging teacher with custodianship of The Earth in mind.
Earth Day has always felt an absurd ‘day’ to me, as if we don’t live on the Earth every day. Mostly an opportunity for a bit of posturing, presented in the frame of consumer capitalism. Arguably it does more harm than good
After decades of climate warnings, we’ve entered a time of consequences. In the UK farmers can’t plant crops in waterlogged fields after the wettest February on record. Just a taste of what will happen if we allow this to get much worse . We’ve been over 1.5C above the pre-industrial average temperature for the last 12 months. The temperature we’re supposed to stay under by 2050. Sea temperatures and sea ice show even more alarming departure into uncharted territory.
In 2015 the Oxfam paper titled ‘Extreme Carbon Inequality’ produced in my view the most important graph of our time:
Yes, the wealthiest 10% are responsible for half of ‘lifestyle emissions’. This staggering inequality is largely missing from the conversation. It means, when the world’s governments fly into COP climate conferences, it’s basically the 10%, bargaining with the 10%, over the emissions of the 10%. The sustainable carbon footprint has been calculated at around 1 tonne CO2 per person , ostensibly what we’re all aiming for by 2050. The bottom 50% show us it is entirely possible, now, to live on much lower emissions. Subsistence farmers I assume. Hunter gatherers wouldn’t even feature on the graph.
When politicians talk about a green transition, it’s mostly shifting the 10%’s consumption to clean energy. Two major problems – 1. It’s too late 2. It’s too resource intensive to replace the whole carbon economy. What’s actually needed is what climate scientist Kevin Anderson calls Equity . Rapid emissions reduction by reigning in the excess of the 10%.
However, that would contradict the economic paradigm of continuous growth. As many have pointed out though, infinite growth on a finite planet is impossible. There is now though an established movement for degrowth. Fundamentally - an overall reduction in energy consumption and materials throughput.
Overturning the economic paradigm would be nothing less than a revolution, of course. It feels unthinkable here but revolutions are a regular feature through history, and given the gathering crises it looks like that time is coming around again. My thesis, as far as foraging’s concerned, is: instituting radical change in society will take more than politics - a change of heart, is needed. Particularly for the 10%. Research has shown dialogue in fact doesn’t change people’s minds, but participation and a sense of belonging do. Foragers are perhaps well placed to open up space to allow people to come to terms with the crisis. Moreover, we sometimes find ourselves with peculiar access to wealthy people. Making explicit connection to the crisis and how we face it is where I mean to take my work.
Written with beginners in mind, AoF member Andy Hamilton’s new book The First Time Forager published by the National Trust is a great foraging guide for beginners, and handy to have with you in your basket or bag when out foraging. Here, AoF member Sam Webster reviews the book after a few jaunts taking it outdoors for action.
I really like it how it focuses on the most common and easy to recognise species, which is something I always tell beginner foragers to do:don’t over complicate things by trying to learn to much too quickly, get to know a few things really well, learn their habitat, look-alikes and their uses before learning more species. Andy’s book is perfect for this.There’s a great reference section for a quick check on id features and look-alikes which is great in the field, and a more in-depth detailed description for when you’ve got a little more time at home to sit and learn about what you’ve found.
I also really love the photos in the book. I’ve been taking it with me on my guided forays and showing my beginner foragers what the plant will look like later on in the year when it’s in flower or fruiting. The pictures are a good size and show the details and key features for identification which is really useful for beginners
There is also a great selection of recipes in the book, some of Andy’s own creation and others kindly shared by other foragers. This gives a really nice vibe and shows the wonderful sense of community and sharing that many foragers have, especially those joined by membership with the Association of Foragers.
I’ve found inspiration in this book. I might do nettle spanakopita at my next forage and cook, and I look forward to integrating more of his writing through the seasons. Overall this is a great beginner book, and for those working professionally as foragers a fantastic teaching resource.
Looking at aquatic wildlife in Britain and Ireland, AoF member Susanne Masters’ book Wild Waters is a guide to seeing the stories of plants and animals around us when we are near water. Here is an excerpt from Chapter 1: Immersed on Land:
Lamb that has grazed on salt marsh is sold for a premium. It is thought the salt-marsh plants flavour the meat of sheep which eat them. Salt marsh lamb has ancient roots. Written records show that medieval England’s expanses of salt marsh were used for grazing. Buried evidence uncovered by archaeologists shows that in the Bronze Age, people relying on domestic grazing animals made use of salt marsh around the Severn Estuary area of England as productive land on which to feed their animals.
Lamb isn’t the only product that attracts a premium when it is nurtured by coastal plants, the world’s most expensive potatoes are fuelled by seaweed. On the French island of Noirmoutier new potatoes are harvested young and sold as ‘La Bonnotte'. Along with sandy soil and excellent marketing, these potatoes are shaped by using seaweed as a fertiliser. Jersey potatoes have never reached the peak of £400 per kilo that La Bonnotte potatoes have achieved, but Jersey is also an island that markets its potatoes as seaweed-fertilised. Alongside the nutrients that seaweed contains, there is an advantage in comparison to compost—seaweed contains no agricultural weed seeds. 17th and 19th century records of penalties and fines imposed in Jersey include matters concerning the collection of vraic, as seaweed was locally named. Seaweed featuring in the legal system indicates how valuable it was to people living on Jersey.
Landlocked gardeners who don’t have a nearby seashore for collecting seaweed often use seaweed as a fertiliser for tomatoes without realising—since one of the most popular tomato fertilisers sold in shops uses liquid seaweed extract as a key ingredient. Seaweeds are also showing promise as a way to boost plant health and thereby reducing economic impacts of plant diseases such as blight. Improving plants’ resistance to disease is appealing as a sustainable means of looking after crops without applying chemicals that are toxic not just to pathogens but also ecosystems by leaving residue in soil and on crops, and killing insects.
Another marine-derived fertiliser is fish blood and bone that supplies the three main nutrients that plants need to grow: nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium. An advantage this organic fertiliser has over chemical extracts is that it yields these nutrients slowly. Slow-release fertilisers need less frequent application and they don’t leach so many nutrients into waterways as there is more time for plants to absorb them.
Plantain is native from the shores of Morocco to the Bering-Straits, being one of the first plants to colonise as the Eurasian ice sheets melted. It’s now naturalised over all but the most arid of countries.
U.S. foraging author Samuel Thayer describes plantain as a “mediocre edible”, and suggest that there is “nothing positive about the flavour or texture of plantain greens”. This is a plant that can split groups. Yet with a bit of work, might the world be overlooking a valuable food source.
Younger leaves are almost translucently pale green, like a 1970’s bathroom, darkening and thickening as they age.
The flowers are long spikes of tight green flowers. When they ripen they are perhaps similar to the imaginative eye as mini elongated corn cobs. Dotted up the stem and easily rubbed off 13–15 cm (5–6 in) tall and rarely to 70 cm (28 in) tall
Broadleaf plantain grows close to footpaths and where soil has been disturbed. This perennial can be found all year round. Leaves form a rosette a rosette - round shape - of leaves flush with the ground. Each will grow up to (but rarely) 30cm long. Generally, about 15cm. Leaves are oval (like an egg) shaped. Look for thick ribbed veins, which when removed look like a thin piece of elastic..
One of my favourite uses of this plant is with mushrooms and cheese but it can be used in many dishes in place of spinach. Plants can often vary in flavour depending how old they are, what time of year you pick and location. Don’t give up hope if you don’t like the flavour keep trying and failing that, this recipe brings out the mushroomy flavour.
You can use button mushrooms or any mushroom of a similar shape for this recipe.
8-20 St Georges Mushrooms 2-3 cups plantain 1-2 cloves of garlic 1 tbs butter or oil 1 cup cream cheese seasoning 2 tbs breadcrumbs 2 tbs parmesan
Plantain leaves and stems contain flavonoids which help fight off free radicals, this allows the body to dismiss uncomfortable anti inflammatory reactions. In other words, plantain leaves can act as an anti inflammatory agent.
Three years on from the lockdowns and societal change caused by the Covid-19 pandemic, we are reflecting by listening to Rupert Waites story of creating and distributing a syrup that offered more than a foraged taste of hedgerow.
In covid we saw it as the best time to get out and to re-establish a place in the world through foraging, joining in the wider community, giving and receiving and stopping and seeing the beauty in the world.
We donated elderberry and rosehip syrup to care homes for two reasons. Firstly, to offer some immune support to the people that are likely to need it most. But also just to give them something to brighten their day.
When people have dementia it can be a taste or a smell that triggers memories, often transporting folks to happier times. Rosehip in particular was something that always went down well, it raised a smile and brought back happier times.
I used to work in a care home cooking and we always worked hard to try to get the residents outdoors, but it was difficult. We were often more successful in bringing the outdoors in. If you are 95 and suffering a bit, you especially deserve a little joy in any way possible.
The feedback we got mostly came from carers and medical staff. It was a real pick me up for many isolated individuals; something that just said someone cares.
The idea to sell some and give some away is in its infancy but one which we are committed to. Working with Napiers we both have charities that we would like to benefit from the goodness as well as offer it to those who can afford it.
We found it difficult in the pandemic though to find receptive homes for all of it. Some went in via care staff but other homes were reluctant to accept anything at all that wasn't on their books. It was understandable as they were under fire and criticism from all sides. We managed though to get three (care homes) on board and also gave plenty away to day centres, hospital workers, nurseries, scout groups and just everyone that came through our door. It was really time consuming but so great to see everyone come in the door with joy on their face and a story to tell.
Our oldest picker was 83, and she had memories of childhood picking and the commercial rosehip syrup – delrosa. Many of the younger pickers were discovering the joy of foraging for the first time and I loved seeing that generational knowledge gap being bridged.
The work with local landowners is as yet also in its infancy. We have a really successful partnership with Gifford community Woodland and operate on a Birch sap for cash and help with events type arrangement. They allow us access to tap the sap and in turn we donate time , money and some nice plants to help them enhance their offering. It's a win win situation and shows off how you can commercialise a resource, make friends and make the forest a better place for all.
We have a nice relationship with a Highland Croft, and a local regenerative woodland project too. In the past we worked with a local care home ,to plant up things that were both edible and attractive. It’s now a space of joy and wonder for the residents. It attracts people, volunteers, wildlife and gasps of amazement! On top of that it also gave us wild foods to use in our pop up restaurant. We pay for them and put money back into the garden for more plants.
We are currently expanding our horizons, are looking into alternative uses for the Highland Croft, as well as looking into regenerating a run-down farming estate. We’re hoping to make it a more useful resource for us and for the wildlife and people in the surrounding area. It's our belief that only by properly integrating plants people and places will we see things truly thrive. It is of course a work in progress, I hope in time it'll enable us to make great use of everyone's skills to help build toward a much better present. Ever the optimists I see a much brighter future than most and its in these little spaces that we can prove and demonstrate the good ideas.
I feel that as simple a thing as collecting rosehips has so much to offer as a community exercise where all are welcome to share their stories and joy of the landscape. Everyone felt like their efforts were meaningful. We didn't have nearly as much time this year but its something we really want to cement into our calendar and be ready for. Or would hope someone with more time might take it up and run with it. I could see it becoming a national not for profit thing, involving schools, nurseries, and people of all ages regardless. That's my kind of revolution. All starting with rosehips. A Rosehip Revolution. I think the answers to many of life’s problems present themselves in those calm moments in the hedgerows and afterwards round a table in the kitchen. And one of the answers is to ask for less and to give more whilst rejoicing together in the beauty and bounty that surrounds us.
Making your own rosehip syrup is so easy.
Make sure your bottles are sterilised, boil the mixture and decant straight into the hot bottles
Ensure that the sugar content is high
Always use glass bottles with a securely fastening and air tight lid
Bottles can be sterilised by popping them in a moderate oven for 10 minutes or by sealing them full and immersing them in simmering water for 30 minutes to pasteurise
Unpasteurised, it keeps in the freezer
Once opened I keep it in the fridge.
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