One woman's adventures foraging the world.
Earlier this month, I had the luxury of spending a week in Uruguay, exploring the country’s wines. Bounded by Brazil and Argentina, the Atlantic Ocean and the Uruguay River, this small South American country is big on flavor. Despite it’s relatively flat terrain—the tallest hill is roughly 1,600 feet high—the wines I tasted we remarkably …
Just a few weeks ago, in my story about finding my first Hen of the Woods, I wrote about not eating bugs. I’d be remiss to mention, however, that I actually have been eating bugs recently. In fact, I wrote an article on edible insects—on both drinking and eating bugs—for the October issue of Wine & Spirits …
About this time last year, I thought my foraging season was coming to an end. Still acclimating to the East Coast, I’d missed most of the Chanterelle season, hadn’t found my own hunting grounds, and by the beginning of October, the Chanterelles that had been there were done. Still, while visiting my brother and his …
Chanterelle season has arrived and I’m going crazy picking these gold-ish orange beauties. And, cooking as many as I can, as often as I can. While I’ve long favored simple preparations—I love chanterelle recipes that feature eggs as I think the flavors favor each other—my one true go-to is a stunning bread salad. A combination …
With a few hours to kill in Michigan earlier this spring, I headed out to scope some new territory. While I was hoping to add to the small, aged morel cache from earlier in the week, I settled instead for a few oyster mushrooms and dryad’s saddle, also known as pheasant backs. Pheasant backs are …
Well, that didn’t last. Less than 10 hours after I’d nibbled on those first shoots of spring, I walked out the door to find those tasty little wild garlic shoots buried under inches of snow. Apparently the 2018 foraging season will be getting off to a late start.
The first shoots of wild edibles are beginning to appear in New York and I’m thrilling at their arrival. Late at night, on my way home from the gym, on Easter Sunday, I can’t stop myself from stepping off the sidewalk to pull at the first hints of allium. Wild garlic has begun sprout in …
I suppose when you grow up in Michigan it’s natural to think the third Thursday in November is meant to be hunted. It’s a tradition that was more common with the men of my youth than myself, however. Still, this Thanksgiving found me less in the kitchen than normal, and so late in the morning …
It’s Mother’s Day when I finally arrive in Benzie County and I have nothing but a handful of leeks to show for it. Every forest I’ve stepped into has been bone dry, save for Waterloo at the southern end of the state. Hunting what the DNR labeled a small 2015 burn, but which was barely …
I leave NJ in a tremble of excitement. I leave NJ in a driving in rain. I’m headed west, it’s spring, and the maps I watch and the mushroom groups I follow all indicate that Michigan is on the precipice of morel season. I pack my bags—no nice clothes, just jeans for the evening, a …