There's a very particular satisfaction to be had from eating wild things. The connection to nature, the bold (if largely misguided) sense of self-sufficiency and the discovery of new flavors all add up to a deeply enriching experience. If you've never ventured into the fields and forests in search of a delicious morsel—wild blackberries! fiddleheads! oyster mushrooms!—you're missing something very primal. Fear can hold us back, but stop for a moment to ponder that. We come from nature and it is only there that we are truly in our element. Let knowledge dispel ingorance and find your way back to the wilderness. I will lure you off the beaten path with a couple of easily identified wild treats.

Read More...

I wish you were here. I would lead you down the garden path. Pause with you under the redbud so you could hear the gentle drone of the bees as they gorge on sweet nectar. Guide you through the gauntlet of green, tender shoots brushing your legs as you pass. I would crouch down with you and show you how to crush the fronds of chamomile between your fingers to release the strong scent of tart apples. I would take you to the cool woodland corner where trillums bloom and ferns unfurl. I would remind you to look at every leaf and blade, every bud and sprig, every flower and sprout and in this way, with the sun on your face and the breeze in your hair, you would feel so alive. Walk with me.
Read More...

I am officially obsessed with black walnuts. It may be some sort of genetic thing. As far back as I can remember, my mother was always craving black walnut ice cream. It used to make an occasional appearance at our local ice cream parlor in Santa Cruz, but since that heyday it seems to have completely fallen off their still impressive roster of flavors. Were she still alive, I could now proudly present my mom with a bowl of the stuff, made by me from walnuts gathered on a friend's land. This particular wild-crafted version may have been a one-time thing, though. Why? you ask. Well, that would be because of the incredibly labor-intensive ordeal it is to process black walnuts. After we'd endured it, we discovered that these nuts can actually be purchased at nutsonline for a mere $13 a pound. Shelled. By hand. (They must have some illegal Guatemalan children doing the work.) Anyway, G doesn't agree, but I think it was worth the effort. Full disclosure: He did most of it. But the ice cream was incredible. Divine. The best yet. Made with a recipe from Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams, of course.
Read More...

photos by gluttonforlifeAlthough this looks a bit like some exotic fruit, it's actually a seed cluster of the Jack-in-the-Pulpit, variously known as Arisaema triphyllum, bog onion and Indian turnip. This herbaceous perennial grows from a type of corm, not totally dissimilar to crocus and freesia. A highly variable species—some can grow up to 5 feet in height—it's native to eastern North America, found in wet woodlands and thickets, and generally flowers between April and June. Using heat and smell, it attracts the flies responsible for its pollination. The Jack-in-the-Pulpit has a charming, fairy-tale look characterized by its arcing and curving "hood," often with dramatic burgundy stripes on the inside. Its fruit are clusters of smooth, shiny green berries which ripen to a brilliant red in late summer before the plants go dormant. Each berry typically produces between one and five pale-colored rounded seeds. My friend Michael was kind enough to bring me a few scarlet clusters from his plants this season, with instructions to pop each berry "like a zit" to extract the seeds. They need to be planted in a damp, mossy area before the first frost.
Read More...

I find that summertime requires its own repertoire of refreshing drinks. Bubbles or not, with or without alcohol, thirst-quenching coolers are essential for those moments by the pool, when you come in from gardening and when you're relaxing on the porch after a long, hot day. I love the idea of taking what you have on hand, what's around in your garden or at the farmers market, and transforming it into something far better than bottled sodas and syrups. (As you reach for your Pepsi or Diet Coke, never forget that it's loaded with sugar, high-fructose corn syrup or the artificial sweeteners that essentially trigger the same insulin response; it has zero nutritional value; and it causes tooth decay.) Sun tea is a great alternative. You just fill a big jug with water and add a few tea bags (herbal, black or green) along with whatever flavorings you like—rosemary and lemon, mint, pineapple sage, ripe strawberries—then let it brew under the hot sun. Try this without the tea for a delicately flavored, herbaceous water. I'm also a big fan of infused simple syrups, which you can easily make with honey or organic cane sugar. To capture one of summer's most ephemeral flavors, gather elderflowers at their peak—they love riverbanks and lush hedgerows along back country roads—and brew up a batch of lightly effervescent, citrusy cordial. It's delicious over ice, topped off with some seltzer and a slice of Meyer lemon, or mixed with gin for a truly relaxing tipple.

Read More...

It's about time I gave you a peek at the garden. Things got off to a slow start what with a certain person getting into a spot of trouble in Indonesia, and a certain other person having to rush over there for 2 weeks, but eventually tiny plants were purchased and placed in the soil. And then it rained. And then it got incredibly hot for a few days, and then it got really cold. And then it rained some more. A lot. A ton. Each year brings its own particular set of weather patterns, and the resulting garden is a clear reflection of that. Compared to last July's splendor, we are behind. The lushness is just starting to creep into the vegetable garden after a few solid days of sunshine. My herb garden is bedraggled, the parsley battered. The native plants that we put in last year, though, are, for the most part, doing quite well. Our stone paths are flanked with honeysuckle and fragrant sumac, and the wild raspberry has gone, well, wild. Just now it's beset by Japanese beetles, which chew the leaves into lacy patterns and can strip a plant in the short time it takes you to go inside and down a glass of icy lemonade. Every day I pluck off dozens and drown them without remorse in a cup of soapy water. It's a jungle out here.
Read More...

In my quest for wild edibles, I dredged up a distant memory of my friend Julia telling me about a morel she had once found at her weekend place nearby. So I headed over there, still dreaming of a big score. Her house has been closed up all winter long and as I drove up a big, fat groundhog scurried across the lawn. She has a beautiful piece of land that slopes down to a brook, now swollen from all the rains. Plenty of skunk cabbage along the bank, a favorite snack for bears. No sign of morels, sadly, though I did find a nice patch of stinging nettles. They must be picked and handled with care—heavy gloves do the trick—as the stems and undersides of the lovely, heart-shaped leaves are covered with fine spines that release irritating formic acid upon contact (like the sting you get from fire ants and bees). Nettles are surprisingly high in protein and deliver lots of calcium, magnesium, iron and potassium, among other vitamins and minerals. For millennia, they have been prized for their anti-inflammatory properties. Their delightful green color and spinach-y flavor makes a wonderful spring soup. And the skull pictured above? Stay tuned for an episode of CSI: Sullivan County.
Read More...

A-foraging I went and I didn't find one thing I was hoping for. No morels, no edible fiddleheads, not a single solitary ramp. And yet, it was truly a glorious day. The mighty Delaware, full of silt stirred up by the recent rains, is flowing the color of milky coffee. Eighty degrees out, with gentle breezes, fluffy cumulus clouds like globs of marshmallow cream in a Tiffany blue sky. The kind of weather sure to rouse even the drowsiest bear and summon the rattlesnakes from their stony bowers. I confess, I devoted a fair amount of mental energy conjuring up scenarios in which I was lunch. A trio of turkey vultures circling overhead didn't help matters much. But in the end, I was sufficiently distracted by all the green living things teeming on the forest floor.
Read More...

Still no camera (I'll retrieve it when I go into the city tomorrow), but G is clamoring from Southeast Asia for evidence of incipient spring in our garden so the iphone will have to do. (I'm actually impressed with the quality.)It's been nothing but rain rain rain for the last several days, though things have cleared up somewhat now and the bugs have already begun their relentless onslaught. Lots of new life is unfurling. Today I will venture into the woods on my first foraging expedition of the season. I'm obsessed with finding ramps, morels, nettles and fiddleheads. Last year I had no luck, nor have I been able to find a mentor in the area. All I need is a little nudge in the right direction. Meanwhile, in my own backyard, many things are cropping up. In the damp, shady bed beneath our bedroom window, the lemon balm you see above (also known as melissa) is off to a good start. This wonderfully fragrant member of the mint family will be pressed into service all summer long for tea, to flavor panna cotta and in poultices for soothing bites and scratches.
Read More...

This beautiful green chameleon is the first creature I captured with my new camera, a present from G who is leaving Antigua early today to shoot a job in the Philippines, Vietnam and Indonesia. Although my new toy hardly makes up for losing my better half for a couple of weeks, it will prove a welcome distraction. The food here is not much to write home about, though we did enjoy dinner on the beach last night, including a delicious chowder made with local shrimp, lobster, clams and fish. Earlier in the day we'd seen a haul of a couple of big, square-headed, glistening yellow mahi mahi, but there was none of the simple and fresh ceviche you might hope for. Still, I can't complain, when the days consist of sunning, napping, reading, hammocking and sipping piña coladas. (Note to self: must perfect this drink at home this summer without that noxious, soapy Coco Lopez). And the nights consist of family dinners, rum-&-tonics with extra lime, moon-gazing, more reading and the beautiful music of tree frogs.
Read More...