The image above doesn't scream "dinner" to most -- especially those who spent childhood summers grubby-pawed and overheated, plucking them out of the cracks of walkways, driveways and wherever else they lurked.
But as this timely Wall Street Journal story reports, weeds are spreading to places other than just your garden, including the dinner table. Dandelion greens, purslane, burdock and lamb's quarters are becoming staples of both haute restaurants and homespun summer salads. They can now be procured both high-end ($9 per pound in one farmers market) and low-end (via elbow grease).
But can one waltz down a Brooklyn street and pluck a handful of dandelions from the edge of a vacant lot to pop in a pan for dinner? The short answer, says 27-year veteran forager and author "Wildman" Steve Brill, is "no." He quickly follows that it's not as hard as one would think, and that hunting for a free dinner "is like learning how to swim, dance or drive a car. Learning to recognize very tasteful, very healthful wild food is no different than any other skill."
His tips, a weedy poll and an additional "expert" opinion after the jump.
When I was ten or eleven, I read an article in National Geographic World about foraging for food, and it immediately caught my attention. For several months, I made violet syrup, dandelion root "coffee," acorn muffins, and a wide variety of other bizarre concoctions from ingredients that I found in my own backyard. Some of these foods were good and others were horrific, but they taught me a few things about how to survive in the wild, not to mention the underappreciated joys of maple syrup.
In the years since, I've tried cattails and wild walnuts, ramps and rose petals, burdock, sassafras, and a wide variety of other delightful produce. In addition to saving me a small amount on my food budget, they've also continued to bring me close to nature. Now that I live in the city, however, my days of foraging are largely over. While I love the Bronx, I don't know what they're putting on the lawn in Poe Park and have no desire to find out the hard way!
Unfortunately, just as I've settled down in my new urban home, my friend Jen introduced me to Prodigal Gardens, a site that offers numerous recipes for wild produce and herbs, as well as workshops in foodlore and natural medicine. If you happen to be a resident of the upper Midwest, you might want to drop in at one of their classes in Wisconsin, Minnesota and Iowa, or ask them to set one up for you!
For reasons I've yet to understand (perhaps in recompense for my obsessive heirloom veggie gardening), the food fates smiled upon me today. I reached into the crisper drawer for a bunch of scallions, and instead drew out (gasp!) ramps -- still viable, even though my last foraging adventure was several weeks ago, and ramp season is gone, daddy gone. They weren't 100% cook 'em up and eat 'em with nothing else fresh, though, so I hedged my bets and went with a fave of mine -- ramp pesto. Should you not be similarly gifted by the veggie gods, garlic scapes work well, too.
I love showing this common weed to people. Pineapple weed is related to chamomile, which it resembles, except it looks like someone removed all of the petals from the flowers. I'm sure many of you have seen this plant because it grows in some of the worst soil, sometimes appearing in gravel or growing out of the cracks in pavement. Try to avoid the ones on very busy highways or near industry.
The best feature of pineapple weed is also the best method of identification. Pick off a small piece of the plant, with flowers attached and crush it in your fingers. It actually does smell like pineapple! Collect some of the flower heads, bring them home, and wash in a strainer. These can be used fresh, or to preserve them just air dry in a warm place, or quick dry in a warm (180 degrees F) oven for a couple of hours. Some people like to use the whole plant, but it can add a slight bitterness to the final product.
Steep 2 teaspoons of flower heads, or one whole small plant in hot water for 10 minutes and strain. Sweeten with honey if desired, and enjoy. I would imagine that it has similar properties to that of chamomile since it is closely related. If you really like pineapple weed tea, you can try to collect some of the seeds from the older matured flowers and grow them yourself. Careful though, as it is a weed and tends to spread easily. Remove the flowers before they drop their seeds, and reserve a few for the next planting.
Many of the plants I read about and see can be used for tea. Some must be dried first, and some can be used dried or fresh. I would like to start with the most common ones first. These plants can be found almost anywhere. I found these three growing in my yard upstate.
While mowing the lawn Sunday, I smelled the familiar spicy-minty smell of ground ivy, also known as gill-over-the-ground, creeping charlie, catsfoot, and several other localized nicknames. Ground ivy is a small ground cover that frequently runs amok at the edges of lawns and around buildings. It has fan-shaped, toothed, opposed leaves, and produces small funnel-shaped blue to violet flowers. It grows with runners, and will appear like many small vines tangled in the other weeds that grow at the edges of landscaped areas.
Crushing and smelling the leaves will confirm that you have ground ivy. It has a distinctively mint-like odor. Tea from ground ivy should be made from dried leaves. I did some research on the uses for ground ivy tea. The medicinal uses are extensive.
Back when I first wrote about cattails, I promised a return to the subject soon for something I described as cattails on the cob. Allow me to explain this delicacy to you. In the late spring, if you watch cattail plants, you will notice that the well known sausage-like fruits of the cattail plant start to mature inside of the central leaves. Look at the leaves for a swelling and pull them out of the plant. If you slowly peel the husks away, you will find the two parts of the cattail flower inside. The upper, or male part of the flower is what we're after. These green spikes will bloom and produce pollen once they emerge from the husk which makes the season very short. If you find too many already blooming, don't fret, because the pollen is another of the offerings of this amazing plant.
Amy, Alec, and I journeyed Saturday once again to The Great Vly Swamp, in West Camp, New York. While Amy and Alec sought after dragonflies and birds to photograph, I started checking the cattails. I had just caught the season at the tail end, as many of the flowers were covered with pollen, and some of the sausage-like seed heads had already started to form. Even this late in the season, I still managed to harvest enough of the flower spikes to make an interesting side dish. Before we left the swamp, I grabbed a clean bag and collected some pollen by carefully bending the stem of the pollen covered flower into the bag and hitting the stem a couple of times. I managed to get about half a cup, but could have collected a lot more.
A quick look around before leaving gave me some other reasons to return to the swamp at a later date. Pickerelweed which will produce a nutty snack food in the early fall, and arrowheads, which produce a good wild potato substitute.
This past weekend I took two good long walks. The first was along the Hackensack River, on a nice flat trail at Mill Creek Park in Secaucus NJ, and a second walk in Little Ferry, NJ in Losen Slote Park. Amy and Alec were away for the weekend, so please excuse my feeble attempts at photography.
Mill Creek did not have too much to offer that day, but is a great walk if you enjoy birdwatching. I did find these mulberries pictured here though. Mulberry trees in our area come in two varieties. Red mulberry, and white mulberry. The tree known as red mulberry is not quite as common in our area. The white mulberry is native to Asia, and was brought here in a failed attempt to produce domestic silk. Silkworms feed and spin on mulberry leaves. It has grown like a weed here, as many suburban homeowners have learned. Fortunately the berries are quite good.
Mulberry trees have leaves with an oval or lobed shape, sometimes with both shapes on the same tree. Small elongated fuzzy flowers in early spring are replaced with what looks like an elongated blackberry in late spring. The berries are just ripening now in this area. Now, a word of caution. White mulberries will sometimes be white, pink, red or almost black when ripe, but all of them are still referred to as white mulberries. This can be confusing and should be considered when harvesting because unripe mulberries will make you quite ill, but are not known to be deadly. It is because of this that I usually stick to the darker variety. A good way to be sure though is to harvest them by laying a sheet on the ground under the tree and giving a good shake. Only the ripe berries should fall.
Anthony, AKA the Hungry Barbarian, has come up with a wager. He must survive outside for a week on nothing but what he can catch and kill - fish, crab, squirrel, earthworms - or snag from nearby farms (presumably without the farmer's knowledge). He will have water, matches, a tent, a hose and a fishing pole. If he can do it, he'll win the money from the betting pool his friends have started.
The big gimmick is this: these survivalist shenanigans will go down not in some remote national park, but in the Hamptons, the Long Island bastion of NYC elites. His neighbors will be sipping champagne on the lawn as the Hungry Barbarian forages for edible berries in their well-landscaped bushes.
Seven days without food is easily survivable (so long as one has water), but the idea of eating earthworms and skinning squirrels is pretty funny. I'm sure hijinks will ensue.
Our colleague Neil Goldstein works up a powerful hunger while he's trekking through the wilds of Upstate New York. Follow him as he forages for wild edibles.
I don't know how old I was when I started having a fascination with wild foods, but I can point to a few family activities that sparked it. As far back as I remember we used to go pick apples every year at an orchard near Stone Ridge, New York. Always fun, except of course for the inevitable case of poison ivy that followed a few days later. The apples weren't wild, but still the idea of picking something from a tree, and eating it right there got to me.
Another major influence were the wild strawberries and blueberries we picked as kids. The strawberries grew near our home in Woodstock. There were several places where you could pick a dozen or two small wild strawberries quickly with little effort, but a short bike ride away was a meadow that my older brothers Lee and Paul called Sergeant's Field. You could pick a few quarts of the local delicacy there.
I recently came across an interesting article on foraging for wild mushrooms in France. Among the surprising facts in The New York Times piece: Pharmacists in some regions of France are trained mycologists. This expertise in all things fungal enables them to help doubtful foragers determine whether they basket they've picked contains delectable porcini or deadly amanita phalloides.
Until the frost hits in late November, professional French foragers comb the forests to supply markets with porcini (or cèpes en français), sheeps feet and golden girolles. I had no idea that fall was mushroom season in France. The Times notes that wild mushroom omelets and fricasees are classic autumnal fare. Now I've yet another reason to get to France. Don't worry. If I do my own foraging, I'll be sure to stop at a local drugstore afterwards.
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When I was ten or eleven, I read an article in National Geographic World about foraging for food, and it immediately caught my attention. For several months, I made violet syrup, dandelion root "coffee," acorn muffins, and a wide variety of other bizarre concoctions from ingredients that I found in my own backyard. Some of these foods were good and others were horrific, but they taught me a few things about how to survive in the wild, not to mention the underappreciated joys of maple syrup. 
Anthony, AKA the 
I recently came across an interesting article on foraging for wild mushrooms in France. Among the surprising facts in 
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