Treats from the wild

Okay, time for your obligatory disclaimer: never eat anything you find in the wild unless (a) you know exactly what you're doing; or (b) you're with somebody who does. Always, always, always consult an expert before ingesting tasty vittles from the forest floor.

Morels, king of spring edibles

By John Barecki

As we begin to see a consistent spring weather pattern in West Michigan—cool nights, rainfall, warmer days—we can start to keep our eyes peeled for the delicious wild edibles available to us in our lovely selection of forests and parks, namely, the wild leek, the fiddle head of the ostrich fern, and, grandest of all, the morel mushroom.

My girlfriend Rachael has been my teacher in the realm of wild edibles and this being my first year of true foraging I've been amazed at what we've found. We have been searching since that crazy heat wave back in March with no luck outside of the dryad's saddle, which some consider lowly in comparison to the prized morel. The dryad's saddle, also known as the pheasant back because it resembles the bird's feather pattern, is a shelf polypore that grows on dead logs. It has an uncanny scent of cucumber or watermelon rind. We learned to harvest the smaller 2-inch diameter ones for frying up and eating, and the larger ones for using dried in stocks and soups. A lot of foragers dismiss this one because they grow at the same time as the morels, but to Rachel and I, they are not just delicious but a heck of a lot easier to find.

A good day in the forest

Keeping that in mind we set out a few days back to find enough edibles to create a forager's pizza—fungi, leeks, and fiddle head ferns. Finding the Dryad's to be too old and dry I decided to climb some of the hills, because as most stories go "something caught my eye." As I got to the top of the hill, there it was, the first of the many yellow morels that we collected that day, thirty of them altogether. After a small freak out we gathered ourselves and the rest of the ingredients to make the most gourmet pie we have ever eaten. Homemade white sauce, Siberian elm samaras, morels that were fried first for ease of digestion, leeks, garlic, and fiddle heads created this tasty dinner. To top it off we used Phocas cheese from Cowslip Creamery, the cheese makers at Lubbers Family Farm.

After much hiking these last couple months I had just about given up on these delectable forest fruits, morels in particular. But in the end my patience paid off and the reward so far has been awesome. If you are one that is not inclined to look hard enough for these creatures, you can grow your own oyster mushrooms from the kits that we sell at Siciliano's. They take a little over a month to grow and will fruit at least three more times after first harvest (they are quite delicious too). I'll soon be writing about that as well if you're not convinced. Either way everyone should be out and about in the forests and parks we have. It's spring. Enjoy it while it's here!

The morel in its natural state

The morel in a state of transition

The morel in its preferred state,
with leeks and ferns

Spring's early bounty: finding wild leeks (repost)

This post originally appeared on April 28, 2011. Since spring has apparently come early to Michigan—and the leeks are already popping up (trust us)—we thought it made sense to republish now rather than wait until April as originally planned. 

By Alexander Atkin

Wild leeks—also known as ramps, spring onion, ramson, and wild garlic—can be found in forests from South Carolina all the way north to where the taiga forest begins in Canada.

Leaves

Among the first to shoulder out of the cold early Spring soil, leeks are abundant in forests all over West Michigan. Typically occurring in patchy oases, they are easily spied by their bifurcated broad green leaves which look somewhat similar to those of lilies.

Sheathed Leek

Though shallow-rooted, leeks are not particularly easy to unearth. A small garden spade will do the trick. When uprooted, the bulb is covered by a dirt-sodden sheath which is easily removed.

The exposed bulb; oniony goodness

While the entire leek plant is edible, the bulb is most prized. With a pungent garlic-onion aroma and flavor, these wild members of the onion family make a spectacular addition to any dish that might normally call for onions. If cleaned and refrigerated, leeks will keep for months. I usually have some left to enjoy all the way through the fall, if I can manage to use them sparingly.

Chicago's Namesake?

Traveling the area near the southern terminus of Lake Michigan in the 17th century, French explorer René-Robert Cavelier named the area Chicago after the name given to wild leeks by the local natives. The naturalist noted the area's dense growth of the vegetable.

Responsible Foraging

Foraging is a part of humanity as ancient as any other. Taking a few hours to walk in woodlands and find wild edibles is a rewarding experience, and a rare chance to reconnect to once-common traditions now nearly lost in the wake of modern civilization.

Take care to follow a reliable guide as there are sometimes poisonous mimics to certain plants and fungi. However, wild leeks have no closely resembling species, so the risk of mistakenly bringing home something else is very low. If you wish to forage on private lands, be sure to obtain permission beforehand. No wild edible is worth dodging bullets.

Lastly, take only what you and your family can reasonably consume. You may come across patches of several hundred leeks, but there are areas of the country that have known exploitation and local extinction. A good forager always leaves some behind to maintain the species and natural balance of the ecosystem.

Alexander Atkin forages for wild edibles in and around Grand Rapids. On Saturday afternoons you can find him tending bar at Brewery Vivant. Stop in for a beer and maybe he'll tell you his favorite place to hunt for wild leeks and other edibles (but probably not).