Chestnuts offer a guilt-free harvest in London. The squirrels in parks have their diet supplemented with monkey nuts all year round, and there are so many chestnuts to be had that anyone who wants to get a bag full can do so with ease.

I’ve been having raw chestnuts for breakfast every morning as I walk through the park. They’re best roasted, but a freshly fallen nut, shelled and rubbed to remove the bitter pellicle (the thin, translucent inner skin) is glorious, as crunchy and creamy as a Kentish cobnut.

We made a little video which you can watch here.

www.londonforager.com/roast-chestnuts-video.htm

Chestnuts are extremely versatile. They make fantastic puddings, ice-creams and fondants, and also go well with braised kid or beef. They also form the basis of the classic confectionery marrons glaces, but I wouldn’t recommend trying these at home- it’s a lengthy delicate business that’s best left to the commercial kitchen.

Aside from chestnuts, we’ve gathered bags and bags of Malus Golden Hornet crab apples, damsons and sloes this month. People have been asking about sloe gin- where to find sloes, when to pick them etc. I’ve yet to find a wild blackthorn bush here, and I can’t work out why this is (our sloes were from Bedfordshire, not London). So I’m afraid I can’t help out with the first one. As for picking them, rural wisdom dictates that you should wait until the first frost. This ‘bites’ the sloes, breaking the skin and softening the fruit. If you don’t want to wait however, you can simulate Jack Frost’s cruel embrace by bunging them in the freezer. Then let them thaw and they’re ready to be made into sloe gin.

Don’t feel that your dreams of liqueur making are shattered though just because you can’t find sloes. Damsons are a worthy substitute, and pretty much any fruit will sing if steeped for long enough in alcohol. There are a few basic principles regarding the sugar/booze ratio for different fruit, and some fruits will need a syrup rather than powdered sugar, but beyond this you can experiment and the results will rarely be disgusting.

There’s still time to make crabapple schnapps for Christmas if you can’t get hold of sloes. There’s nothing to it, just cover a couple of handfuls of crabapples in 50cl or so of neat vodka, seal in a kilner jar and store in a dark place until mid December. It’s just as good as sloe gin.

We’ve got a couple of other liqueur recipes on our site, and I’m in the process of putting together a pdf which I’ll put up for download later in the week (promise).

www.londonforager.com

Expeditions like this allow you complete removal from the stresses and preoccupations of everyday life- I don’t think I thought about work, money, or politics once in the four hours we were out.  I’m very grateful to my uncle for taking us out- without his knowledge of the tides and the marsh it would have been very dangerous. I’d recommend samphire picking to anyone, but make sure that you know that where you are going is safe, and wherever possible check with someone who has local knowledge.

Wild rocket pops up everywhere these days, billowing about on top of stone-baked pizzas, pastas and salads in restaurants and selling for a fortune in supermarkets. It’s almost become culinary shorthand for la dolce vita, but like so many voguish foods it wasn’t always that way- in less adventurous times it was considered too strong-tasting, and given to pet rabbits as a staple green (it was usually referred to by its other name Arugula). People are often surprised that it’s a common wild plant.

Going by a leading high-end food shop’s 2009 price of £1.59 a bag, I’ve seen at least £3000 worth growing on a mound in the Olympic village building site, and another £1000 worth on the embankment of the DLR’s Stratford branch. It’s all over the place. The flavour in wild London rocket has amazed everyone I’ve shown it to- it’s wonderfully hot and peppery and blows the bought stuff out of the water. You can spot it by its buttercup-like flowers which rise high above the leaves on long stalks.

We’ve done some good walks recently, one with a nice journalist from the Wharf magazine, a free paper read by bankers in the Docklands. Hopefully they’ll want a few hours’ respite from their high-octane work lives and book themselves onto a walk! You can see the article here

http://www.wharf.co.uk/2009/07/finding-flavour-by-the-roadsid.html

In September we’ve been invited to give some talks and running workshops at a ‘Get Green, Get Creative’ Fayre run by the Claremont Arts and Therapy Centre and the Cubitt Art Gallery, and doing some projects with London secondary schools. There definitely seems to be a growing interest in foraging and I genuinely believe that it does wonders for the soul, so I’m really looking forward to these.

The first brambles are now ready- They’re next on our list, for wine and desserts, and to form the next layer of my Rumtopf! I’m also looking forward to going up to my Aunt and Uncle’s farm in Hesketh Banks in Lancashire to harvest some marsh samphire. We’ll follow the tides out in the afternoon.

Please get in touch if you want to come on a walk in August or September! Contact us through our website www.londonforager.com

Dock pudding is a breakfast dish made from Dock leaves, onions and oatmeal. Here’s a recipe from www.calderdale-online.org

Traditional Recipe

Ingredients

2 lb fresh, sweet variety dock leaves (polygonum distorta)

2 large onions, or 2 large bunches of spring onions

½ lb nettles

A handful of oatmeal

A knob of butter

Salt and pepper to taste

Method

Wash and clean the dock leaves and remove the stalks

Wash and clean the nettles

Chop the onions

Fry the vegetables in the butter until tender

Add the oatmeal and cook for about 20 minutes, stirring to prevent the mixture from sticking, the pudding is then ready for eating or for storing in a sealed container

I think this must be a vegetarian recipe, as I’ve seen elsewhere that it should be fried in bacon fat- but then again these sorts of things are always fiercely debated, with recipes hidden behind picture frames and buried in tins under trees (or maybe I’m too much of a fantasist). Anyway, if anyone is tempted to try it, it’s not the same dock you’d use to balm a nettle sting. It’s a different plant that grows mainly in the north of the country, but you could always use more nettles, or young burdock leaves (might be a little bitter though) or hogweed.

The Hawthorn blossoms have broken through. I’m making some wine and filming it this weekend, so my next blog may well be a Youtube link.

I’ll be doing some guided walks in May in  places around South London, so let me know if you want to come along for a stroll and a snack.  

www.londonforager.com

It’s been a great week for foraging. I’ve found enough three-edged leek to feed hundreds down an unkept path near my parents’ house. It’s the most fantastic ingredient in potato salads and chinese-inspired dishes, and the flowers- delicate, white bells that you’d expect to smell perfumed and pretty- have an intense spring onion flavour and are fantastic in a mixed leaf salad. Also lots of Wood Sorrel out at the moment. The leaves are like big, cartoony clovers and the taste is very special, like dry apples.  Cleavers (stickyweed) are edible at the moment too, though they’re about to reach the stage when they get tough and stringy and not worth bothering with at all.

Most exiting of all though has been the discovery of hundreds of violets which have sprung up on the lawn of my block of flats. They’re escapees from a flower bed I think, but that’s wild enough for me (they do occur wild too, just rarely in London). I’m going to gather some this week (so long as I don’t get shouted at by the residents’ association president) and make them into an ice-cream. 

Anyway, as soon as Easter passes I’ll be picking, pickling and preserving in earnest. I’m going to be making a series of Youtube short films as well, so I’ll be nice and busy. The first one I’ve got planned is of a foraged Indian Thali , as follows:

Dandelion poori

Borage raita

Gorse Biryani

Sag Paneer (with nettles and hedge mustard)

Blossoms are more than visual treats though- they show the forager where his fruit is going to come from later in the year, like marker pins on a map. If you’re after plums, damsons or  sloes (blackthorn), then take a walk and make a note of where the blossoms are. It’s ten times easier to locate fruit trees at this time of year than later on when they’re thick with leaves.  

Hawthorn blossoms are worthwhile picking early though-  they make lovely wine and cordial. The hawthorn berry makes a nice (ish) jelly, but it’s such an abundant plant that you’re not going to compromise your crop by taking the flowers early. I actually think the flowers are more worthwhile, and the young leaves are a pleasant addition to a salad, too.

Aside from that, get out there and pick nettles. There’s no excuse to spend money on any other green leaf at this time of year- nettles are delicious, easy to find, full of iron and folic acid, and incredibly versatile.

Try an omelette- a couple of handfuls of nettles, 3 good eggs ansd some parmesan. rinse the nettles and wilt them, saving the desertspoon or so of broth left in the pan. Roughly whisk together the eggs with the broth (and a grate of nutmeg if you wish). Heat a knob of salted butter in a small frying pan, and when it’s bubbling, tip the egg mix in. Immediately start pulling the sides in. After 15 seconds, add the nettles and parmesan to the centre, leave it for another 20 seconds or so, roll the omelette to one side of the pan and tip it straight onto a plate, oozing and baveuse.  Fast healthy food for about a pound.

Things have been going well for the forager this year. We’ve been asked to take part in a Camden borough art project/exhibition, giving workshops and guided walks. We’re also doing a piece with BBC in the next couple of weeks- I’ll post the link when it’s online.

I should be posting more regularly from now on- sorry for being so sporadic.

Snails will break out of their sealed up shells as soon as the temperature begins to rise, but they won’t have eaten since November, so it’s best to wait until March to start gathering them up.  You’ll be surprised by how worthwhile they are.

Our garden snails are considerably smaller than the typical French eating snail, so serving them in the traditional way with garlic butter is less effective. Fry them in butter, garlic and a little vermouth or white wine and add them to risottos and linguines instead, or, best of all, make feuillettes d’escargots; a puff pastry parcel filled with snails in a cream and wine sauce.  Allow 10 snails per parcel, and a parcel per person, and serve with a green leaf salad for lunch.  I won’t give a full recipe here and they need a fair amount of preparation, but it’ll be in the London Forager cookbook if it ever finds its way to print, and on our website once it’s had its revamp.

The credit crunch/economic downturn/death of the British economy has been much on my mind (as it has on everyone’s I should imagine). With regards to foraging, it’s hard to tell what the effects will be. I’m sure there’ll be a surge in interest (though perhaps not just yet) in foraging as a pastime, which I am very excited about. It can only have a positive effect on one’s life as far as I’m concerned, being a means to eat free, nutritious and delicious food, get out into open spaces and take part in the natural cycle.  

I am concerned however about the effect that a large-scale surge might have on London as a foraging ground. There are only enough green spaces in London to support a light harvest. If people are respectful, and are careful not to take more than they should, then the land should cope. But if hordes of millions storm the parks and heaths of London and strip it bare, then it will be damaged.

I’m aware of the irony at play here, and it all throws the validity of the London Forager into question somewhat! Is it right to evangelise about something that is necessarily niche? I think I’m on the right side of the ethical cusp, but I’ll have to be careful, because I don’t think it should be in any way exclusive.

As for the London Forager itself, we’ve been contacted by some television producers since the New Year, so there are opportunities to spread the word and bring foraging to people’s attention. But will people pay a premium for artisan food and drink anymore, or pay for guided walks? There are marketing issues to think about, but I don’t (and am unlikely ever to) make my living from this.  The motivation for doing it all is to garner interest in foraging, so I’m prepared to ride a dip in trade if there is a rise in interest in foraging as a pastime.

I’ll be doing guided walks on weekends from April. They’ll be limited to 4 people per walk and will include lunch on the hoof.  When I’ve got the dates/areas sorted I’ll put them up.

First up is Frances Bissell.  The scented Kitchen, her collection of recipes using wild and garden flowers, is right up my street. I love food writers whose general enthusiasm for food is focused around a very specific obsession.  I’ve consulted this book a lot this year and found her instructions to be clear and precise, but not at all bossy.  

Next up is Oded Schwartz, pickling guru. His books should be essential reference materials for anyone interested in preserving. I have used his recipes directly, and more generally consulted his books for troubleshooting advice this year.

Next up is Richard Harden, of Harden’s food guides, for singing our praises.

Fergus Drennan, Britain’s foremost forager, has been attempting to eat nothing but wild food all year. That’s NOTHING BUT- no eggs, no pasta, no bread, unless they’re made from wild ingredients.  A big cheer and rattle of the clacker for Fergus as he approaches Winter.

Marcus at the Wild Food School has created a free, downloadable urban foraging guide this year. It’s available here- http://www.wildfoodschool.co.uk/ug001.htm  Good on him for doing that.

Judy of the Woods has also created a downloadable foraging guide -  http://www.judyofthewoods.net/forage_uk.html   It’s not free but it’s only 4 pounds, so good on her too.

I’m off to France next week for a Family Christmas. For reasons of ease and economy I’m flying this year (50 quid to Geneva from London city), which means I’ll miss out on the long drive down to the Alps, which I love.

We normally break the journey with a stop in the Jura.  We stay at a dilapidated hotel near Dole and eat a  4-course set menu that costs slightly more than a meal at Pizza Express.   Wild foods appear regularly on these menus, and rod-caught fish from the river often features as the plat du jour- not just trout but perch and pike as well.  Coarse fish are quite often good to eat and we should give them more of a chance over here.  

Anyway, I’ll be taking some pear chutney, bird cherry schnapps and walnut Nocino, all from trees in E17, to the Christmas table this year.  My mum’s found some wild raspberry liqueur in the cupboard, and her handwritten sticker says 1978! We’ll have to see if it’s stood the test of time.

www.londonforager.com

I went down to Hampshire this week for some fishing. I’ve fished far less this year than last- I’ve just been too busy. I only went once during the brown trout season and I caught nothing, so it was nice to be in a quiet valley for a few hours on a crisp Winter morning, stalking rainbow trout at Dever Springs.

Rainbows aren’t wild, of course. They’re American imports, and Dever Springs is a tightly run trout fishery with two lakes stocked daily with large, sterile, trophy fish. There’s a beat of the river Dever there too with a run of indigenous wild brown trout, but it’s only open during the game fish season.

This sort of fishing might be too artificial for some purists, but for people like myself who can’t afford to fish on the Test or the Tweed every week, it’s a great way to practice casting, spend some time in pleasant surroundings and catch some fish.

Farmed trout can be muddy and unpleasant, but the water at Dever is gin clear and the fish, whilst nowhere near as good to eat as wild ones, are tasty enough. The fishery runs a smoking service too, and I now have 7lbs of smoked trout to eat and give away this Christmas.  Not wild, but wilder than Sainsbury’s version and with some personal significance.

On the way down in the car I noticed a few frost-bitten apples still hanging onto the trees (why are motorway embankments so full of apple trees?), and there were some wrinkly rosehips by the edge of the lake, but otherwise very little left in terms of edible plant life. Jack Frost has landed and it’s time for the squirrels, snails and foragers to retire indoors.  So I’ve got a couple of months now to get on with my writing, and to formulate my market plan for 2009.

I’m very proud of the liqueurs we’ve made this year, and I’d like to get them on sale in 2009 if possible. This means getting an occasional off-licence, so I’m going to have to think carefully about the economics of it.  Christmas hampers for 2009 are another consideration; liqueurs, sweets, jams, pickles, preserves, teas and wines are all giftworthy things after all.

Anyway, we’re two months away from the first shoots and blossoms. that’s when the work begins and the fun starts.

www.londonforager.com

The Greenwich Park squirrel community actively approach people in the flower garden.  I imagine they see humans as huge monkey nut dispensers. They are accomplished emotional blackmailers, fixing you with their shiny jet-black eyes and holding their hands up to their chests.

In autumn they run around the ornamental pines and cedars that shed their cones at this time of year. I collected some large cones at the weekend, with a view to extracting some nuts. In theory all pines have edible nuts, but some are so difficult to get to that people rarely bother. But I was intrigued, and I wouldn’t need many nuts to make a pesto for one.

I put my oven on a low heat and laid the cones on a baking tray. Before long my kitchen was filled with the warm, ecclesiastical fragrance of pine resin. After 45 minutes I removed the cones, which had now opened out slightly. I tried prizing open the layers but could see no nuts, so I twisted one of the cones as if opening a bottle. It collapsed into hundreds of triangles, each with a pocket at the tip. I cut one open and it oozed sticky resin that clung to my fingers and got everywhere. Floating in the resin was a tiny, almost translucent pine nut. I gave up half an hour and five nuts later, dejected and covered in pitch.

 I wondered how the squirrels managed to get at these nuts, or whether the tree, after millennia of pillaging, had developed state-of-the-art cones impenetrable to animals and birds. I guessed on the latter.

In any case, perhaps I was overlooking the real treasure. Could I use the resin for homemade Retsina?  Some sort of mastic-style gum or liqueur? Google suggested that I use it as a temporary tooth filling or to wax a violin bow, but I haven’t got any cavities and I don’t play the violin.

Eventually one culinary application came up. The lumberjacks of British Columbia used to boil a huge vat of pitch and cook their potatoes in it. They would then remove the outer skin of the potato that had made contact with the pitch and eat the inside.

I gave up on the pines after this.