Carol Goodman Kaufman

Wild foods

Foraging Sumac

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Last year, I made the mistake of not reading the small print. The small print in this case wasn’t on a contract; it was on a website. As anyone who reads my stuff knows, I love wild food foraging, and one of the things I have on my to-do list is sumac, its tangy flavor crucial to so many dishes, especially to Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cuisine. Since learning that sumac grows wild all over the Berkshires, I was psyched, and immediately went online to learn how to harvest it in New England. To make a long story short, my enthusiasm overwhelmed my common sense. The website’s author instructed readers to harvest in August, so I enlisted husband, daughter, and son-in-law to join me in the hunt. After all, the latter two are wonderful, adventurous cooks. Armed with plastic bags, we plucked dozens of the ruby red blossoms and brought them home to process on the dining room table. But, UGH. The blossoms were infested with lots and lots of tiny, wriggly worms. I had to throw out the whole lot — as fast as I could hustle myself out the door.

The website was indeed very instructive, but I had failed to notice that it was written in northern Maine, whose season has to be a good month later than ours in southern New England. Lesson: pay attention to the small print.

Tomorrow we go out to try again, the blossoms having just turned red in the past week.

Stay tuned. I have a craving for shwarma.

Fun With Fungi: My Virgin Voyage as a Mushroom Hunter

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Few people, either on foot or in cars, were on the road this morning, but who could blame them? The oppressive heat and humidity hadOyster mushrooms been hanging on for days, with no relief in sight. But the weather didn’t deter us; we were off on our very first mushroom hunting expedition. I had been dreaming about this for months and nothing would stand in my way.

We joined up at Kennedy Park in Lenox with some other folks who had traveled some distance for the hunt and were thrilled when John Wheeler, President of the Berkshire Mycological Society, arrived soon after to teach us some basics about mushrooms and mushrooming. Just as I thought we would embark on our quest, he burst our collective bubble by telling us that commercial pickers had wiped the park clean. But, like a novelist who knows how to devise a good plot, he then redeemed himself by bringing us to another place further down the road.

Birdsong and the babble of running water, along with the occasional snapping twig, filled the woods with cheerful music. The forest floor was damp and fragrant with the aroma of decaying leaves. And slippery. I found long branch to use as a walking stick that turned out to be a wise decision.

We hiked down a hill, over felled trees, under branches, and through said babbling brook. I have to admit I  expended more energy attempting to remain upright than I did actually seeking out fungi. Perhaps with practice this will get easier, I thought.

It turned out that John had to leave early to attend a wedding, so we were left to fend for ourselves. Afraid that we would get lost in the woods, we tried to follow him as he ascended the steep embankment with the agility of a gazelle. We realized quickly that we were not going to make it. Remember “slippery?” Well, my feet lost their grip on the muddy slope and as I slid downward, one leg wrapped around a tree while the rest of me continued down the slope. Trust me when I say this was not the most attractive pose I have ever been in, and I pray that nobody had a camera at that precise moment.

Although only one member of our party found a single oyster mushroom, we did succeed in netting some wild ramps and wild ginger, so the hike wasn’t a complete bust.

The beauty of exploring nature with the possibility of finding treasure is enchanting, and I think probably addictive, but next time I’ll stick to flat terrain. And I’ve already ordered a couple of field guides to ensure that I don’t ingest the wrong type of fungus.

As the Croatians like to say, “Every mushroom is edible, but some only once.”

A Tough Nut to Crack

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My obsession with stalking the wild asparagus continues. Dressed like Miss Marple with my hat and Wellies, I love to gather apples, pears, chicory and, of course, my beloved grape leaves. Last week, while searching (alas, failing) to find a new source of grape leaves in a nearby park, I did discover dozens and dozens of pale green orbs hanging from trees like so many Christmas ornaments. I plucked one low-hanging one as well as a small branch of leaves, and posted photos on Facebook, hoping that at least one friend could help me with identification. Within minutes I had my answer: Black walnut. Unfortunately, I had no idea that cutting into the hull of that nut to make the photos would render my fingernails dark brown for two long weeks. Note to self: wear gloves.

Despite the risk of permanent dye, I was on a mission. I just had to gather what so many people claim is a sublimely flavored nut. So, on a sunny and warm Columbus Day, four-year old Max and I headed out to harvest. It turns out that finding the trees was the easiest part of the exercise, and retrieving the ripe globes that had fallen to the ground required little effort on our part. (Having a little kid close to the ground was a big help in the search.)

Finding nuts not infested with slimy little worms was another matter. The longer they remain on the ground, the more likely it is that they will attract the critters. Yuck. So, why not just pick them straight from the tree? Well, if you happen to be 20 feet tall or own a cherry picker, that would be a fine solution. I happen to be 5’7″, and can barely reach the lowest branches.

After one tree’s worth of nuts, we headed home to begin the next phase our project. That turned out to be the hard part, involving water, an exacto knife, and a drying tray, none of which steps yielded anything we could actually eat.

The phrase “tough nut to crack” must have been invented for the black walnut. No simple nutcracker is sufficient here. To get at the meat inside a black walnut, a sledgehammer is the only way to go. Another note to self: Sledgehammers can pulverize the nutmeats.

So much work for so little result. As the woman in the youtube video said, “That’s why they’re so stinkin’ expensive.” (Yes, twice that of standard “English” walnuts.)

Oh, but what a splash they’ll make as a Thanksgiving dessert.