Foraging is something of a casual passtime of mine. Something to do with interests in both nature and cooking, and history overall. Just going on a simple walk, I can identify dozens of wild edibles, from more commonly known species to those now obscure. It’s a very interesting look into the past, as, not only could many of the weeds in your yard be edible, but many were intentionally introduced by settlers for that very purpose. Even a lot of ornamentals are edible, but I need to preface everything with this:
Always do research before you eat some random plant.
Being able to identify and differentiate between edible and harmful species is extremely important. There are often toxic lookalikes, and the line between harvesting a tasty treat and sickness and/or death can be minute differences easily overlooked. Even with more recognizable species with few or no lookalikes, exercise caution to make sure you’re not allergic. Seriously, for the safety of yourself and others, do your goddamn homework. Buy a guide tailored for your region, take a foraging class, and, most of all, use your head.
Back to less grim matters, I greatly enjoy discovering wild edibles around me. North America is full of them, native and introduced. Various potherbs and leafy greens, fruits of all kinds, plants with medicinal uses, and more. Of recent interest to me have been our nut-bearing trees, including oaks, walnuts, chestnuts, hickories, and beeches. Some of these are very literal tough nuts to crack, as I learned when I found a hickory tree.
Hickories are in the same family of plants as walnuts, and most species are native to North America, if I recall. Despite their long history of culinary use in the continent, they are not grown commercially, so I was very curious to try them. The first step was collecting some, a task made difficult by local squirrels. They’re absolutely crazy about them, and the tree and surrounding area was crawling with the buggers. You could literally hear them biting into the nuts up above. Thankfully, hickories are pretty heavy producers (when they want to be), a fact supported by the ground being just littered with pieces. I also got to watch a squirrel go through the outer hull of a nut, and it looked like a cartoon character eating corn on the cob.
So, after gathering some nuts and being both thoroughly impressed and terrified at the strength of a squirrel’s incisors, I set about preparing them. It’s not a very complicated process, so I won’t go too into detail. The gist of it is that you remove the outer hull, check to see if the nuts are good by dumping them in water (bad ones float), then set them out to dry for a day or two. Then you have to crack them, which is where we enter my biggest gripe with all of this.
Unlike more accessible fruit, a hickory nut is protected by a shell. An extremely durable shell that must survive North American winters, which can be pretty bad. That means they’re a royal pain in the ass to get open. This is not a nut that you crack with the intention of getting whole nuts, so temper your expectations and hope for sizable chunks. This was made worse by the fact that the species I foraged- shagbark hickory- produces one of the smaller nuts, making for a lot of work with very little gain. That does not, however, mean it was all for naught.
Are hickory nuts really that good? Do they deserve a squirrel seal of approval? Honestly, yes. They were very sweet, with a flavor similar to walnuts and pecans (which are also a hickory species). I very much enjoyed the act of eating the nutmeat and sharing it with others, but the chain of events leading up to that really wasn’t worth it. I think I’ll let the squirrels have this tree, and hope that I identify another of a different species in the future. Preferably, one that produces larger nuts.
Regardless, the shagbark hickory is a rather striking tree, and as easily recognized as it can be admired. Mature specimens live up to their name by having very shaggy bark that peels off the trunk, and I implore people to look them up. It really looks pretty cool. These are also very tall, slow growing trees, and the one I found is at least forty years old. That’s when they start bearing fruit, so it’s no wonder why they’re not grown commercially. A shame, really, since they taste great, and the inside of the shell smells absolutely divine.
While put off from this particular specimen, my foraging adventures continue. Autumn is really starting to set in, so the array of wild edibles changes with the season. One of these years I might attempt walnuts, but they’re also known to have very tough shells. I’ve also contemplated starting a garden from foraged seeds next year, and have already collected a few. A couple species of allium, and a wild member of the mustard family called peppergrass. This might become an ongoing series, as I purposefully cultivate what many consider common weeds, and explore their tastes and uses. That may also mean that I start to utilize pictures in the future. Real cutting edge stuff.