Where the wild foods are

Pic: Marijke Honig; Brooklyn Bridge Park.

I had always thought I was alone. The outsider. Isolated. But then I started to read more blogs and realized that there were Others. Fellows. Masters (or Mistresses), in fact, of the art.

Of foraging.

I didn't know it was called foraging when I went with Marijke to the park in DUMBO, with the train roaring over the Manhattan Bridge, and gathered amelanchier berries for jam and pie. Or even when I was looking for mushrooms under the pine trees in Tokai in Cape Town. Or stopped for shaggy ink caps growing on a suburban lawn, to eat later on toast.

But after I read Euell Gibbons' well known book, I realized I needed to learn more, in the, er, field/s.

Desire is not enough (though it sure makes the engine go). Knowledge is needed.

To that end, I will be following 'Wildman' Steve Brill on Sunday in Prospect Park, as he leads a late-season foraging expedition. There is one in Inwood tomorrow too. Please visit his website if you are interested.

Prospect Park promises to deliver sassafrass roots, persimmons, and possibly...this is what I'm hoping for with last night's rain: enoki and oyster mushrooms.

And when spring and summer roll around I will definitely be tagging along again.