Foraging is Mother Nature's treasure hunt. Your essay brought to mind the brilliant British-born forager queen, Patience Gray, whose book _Honey From a Weed_ I am sure you are familiar with. Foraging for wild edibles changes, depending on where you are. You were wise to learn from the local women in Greece, as Gray did in Greece, Spain, and Italy. I have gone on foraging walks with experts in Southern California, when I lived in Los Angeles, and in theVirginia Piedmont, when I lived in DC. I don't do as much foraging in Maine, because my arthritic spine and prosthetic knees discourage bending and kneeling. But I have a large jar of dried black trumpet mushrooms from the huge wild 'shroom harvest two seasons ago. As a possibly interesting side note, my British son-in-law's mother grew up playing with Patience Gray's children, because her father--my son-in-law's grandfather--the well-known graphics designer F. H. K Henrion, employed Patience Gray as his executive assistant and she lived across the road from him. Gray mentioned him in her book as one of her primary design mentors.
What an interesting life you've led! I can see that a sensible job would feel like wearing a straitjacket. And youth is too precious to squander on sensible.
I love the pie recipe, just wondering if it would freeze well ... that way, one would keep me going most of the summer! Young hawthorn leaves are good in a salad, and my gardens always boast a nettle patch and a dandelion or three ... the neighbours think I'm nuts. There again, as my American buddy Herb was wont to say, there's no percentage in being Joe Normal!
I've only ever really foraged for berries, and even then I ended up eating yew berries, which are supposed to be toxic! They didn't do me any harm though, so either I'm immortal or I unwittingly built up a tolerance...
A friend in Puglia was so transfixed by her he made a pilgrimage to all her haunts. As for your Greek adventure Mamma Mia had nothing on you!
Foraging is Mother Nature's treasure hunt. Your essay brought to mind the brilliant British-born forager queen, Patience Gray, whose book _Honey From a Weed_ I am sure you are familiar with. Foraging for wild edibles changes, depending on where you are. You were wise to learn from the local women in Greece, as Gray did in Greece, Spain, and Italy. I have gone on foraging walks with experts in Southern California, when I lived in Los Angeles, and in theVirginia Piedmont, when I lived in DC. I don't do as much foraging in Maine, because my arthritic spine and prosthetic knees discourage bending and kneeling. But I have a large jar of dried black trumpet mushrooms from the huge wild 'shroom harvest two seasons ago. As a possibly interesting side note, my British son-in-law's mother grew up playing with Patience Gray's children, because her father--my son-in-law's grandfather--the well-known graphics designer F. H. K Henrion, employed Patience Gray as his executive assistant and she lived across the road from him. Gray mentioned him in her book as one of her primary design mentors.
What an interesting life you've led! I can see that a sensible job would feel like wearing a straitjacket. And youth is too precious to squander on sensible.
I love the pie recipe, just wondering if it would freeze well ... that way, one would keep me going most of the summer! Young hawthorn leaves are good in a salad, and my gardens always boast a nettle patch and a dandelion or three ... the neighbours think I'm nuts. There again, as my American buddy Herb was wont to say, there's no percentage in being Joe Normal!
I've only ever really foraged for berries, and even then I ended up eating yew berries, which are supposed to be toxic! They didn't do me any harm though, so either I'm immortal or I unwittingly built up a tolerance...