This year’s summer solstice signalled the long anticipated reopening of my place of work, after over two months of closure. Whilst this was a huge occasion for us all and a vital step forward in terms of the lockdown situation, I couldn’t help but have some slightly mixed feelings on the matter. I had spent the duration of that time with a very small team, having some 700 acres of woodland, grassland, rivers, streams and ponds to ourselves. The majority of that time had been consumed with patrolling the site, which gave me the opportunity to experience nature in a way that I hadn’t seen before. I had been able to get up close to some very special wildlife and had been able to spend much of that period developing my botany skills. It was impossible not to be excited about welcoming visitors back to our site, and sharing the stunning landscaped mosaic of habitats with them, but I was resigned to the fact that most of our local wildlife would undoubtedly go back into hiding. It felt as though we as humans had swapped lifestyles for a little while. So what would my focus now be to mark the beginning of summer? Something I had already began to explore during the spring months; finding treasure. Wild treasure. Mother Nature’s bounty.
So far, I had found the year to date pretty impressive for wild food foraging, beginning with the emergence of spring and now carrying on into the summer months. I truly love spring, it is without doubt my favourite time of year, but the summer solstice period always sparks that motivation to quickly move on, and become excited about what comes next.
Which quickly brings me to the dryad’s saddle mushroom. Also known as the pheasant back, for obvious reasons. I had found a few of these throughout the ending of spring but just kept missing the young growth, and every time stumbled across huge specimens. They were given their common name, supposedly due to the ‘saddles’ being ridden by the dryads, small woodland fairies. As beautiful as the mushrooms are when of a certain size, it is the small, young fruiting bodies that you really desire, and it didn’t take long before I found quite a few early summer spreads.
A perfect Dryad’s Saddle (Cerioporus squamosus).
Now before I go any further, lets get the obligatory - please don't die from eating wild mushrooms disclaimer out of the way as I am going to be rambling on about a few! Never eat anything unless you are 100% sure it is edible. Many species can be easily confused with poisonous ones so it is always worth checking with an expert. Don’t take risks!
Anyway, back to the dryad’s saddle. If you can get a sniff of one when fresh, it has this sort of watermelon/cucumber aroma to it which I love. A feature that diminishes when cooked, but you can still get a sense of it in its taste. They are great fried, dried or pickled and the handy thing about it, is that it is very hard to confuse with anything else. If you do find a spot where larger ones are growing, make sure to check back regularly as new ones will continue to emerge until the end of August. Keep a particularly beady eye on deciduous tree stumps.
Dryad’s Saddle protruding from a rotten birch stump.
Early summer foraging didn’t really get going in full until I started finding what is for me, the absolute epitome of wild mushrooms, or wild food in general for that matter. You will normally find it growing on dying or dead oak trees, usually around the base and its sulphurous yellow glow on its underside is a key indicator of the taste sensation that you may well have just unearthed. It will also grow on yews, something which I will come back to in a moment.
The fungi I am describing, is known as chicken of the woods or the sulphur polypore, and it is glorious. I have heard people describe its taste as ‘OK’ before and to be quite honest, I have no idea where their tastebuds are at. If you are a vegetarian or vegan, then this is the closest thing to chicken you will ever get in terms of both taste and texture. In fact, I am putting it out there right now; it’s better. It has the added bonus of also being free - with landowners permission of course. Cooked in butter and herbs it is perfect. Add some garlic mustard leaf and citrusy wood sorrel for a solid wild compliment, but don’t mess around with the flavour too much. Not at all necessary. Deep fry it in batter though and I’m at a loss for words. In a good way. Truly delicious. There is a very valid reason that restaurants charge a small fortune for this one.
Harvested Wild Mushrooms - Chicken of the Woods & Dryad’s Saddle.
Chicken of the Woods (Laetiporus sulphureus) sprouting from a fallen Oak.
As I have pointed out, you will typically find this fabulous fungi fruiting from old oak wood, but you will also occasionally see it on sweet chestnut and willow, starting off in its globular like form. However, it is also rather fond of a yew tree. The yew is one of my favourite trees, and it is one of our three UK native conifers. In spite of this, bar the flesh of the berries on a female, every element of this iconic tree is deadly poisonous. I know of people who do harvest from them, but for me just stick to the safety of the oaks. Trust me, you don’t want anything to get in the way of enjoying this one. Even if it just turns out to be a little lip tingle from the yew bark.
The tree in question. Yew (Taxus baccata).
I was on the lookout for another mighty ingredient to pair up with chicken of the woods, seeing as I was finding many of them; some around a kilo in weight. I am not usually a fan of what are deemed - invasive plants, however I will gladly make an exception for this one. As luck would have it, I noticed that around woodland edges and verges, three-cornered leeks were springing up everywhere. Their season as it were, seems to be disputed by many but I was uncovering them from late spring into much of the summer months and very grateful I am for it! It brought a strong leek and chive like flavour to all of my summer mushroom cooking.
Chicken of the Woods and Three-Cornered Leeks (Allium triquetrum) for tea!
Whilst foraging is without question, great fun and extremely satisfying when with a bit of good fortune you’re returning home with a full meal, make sure to never get so immersed that you forget about what else may be going on around you. A prime example of that for me was back in June when I was venturing out to a location known for its plentiful supply of pignuts. I left the work yard and took the usual route. As I was driving along I took the first corner, and for some reason to which I can’t explain, something made me turn and gaze to my left. Not ideal when driving I may add. My eyes were instantly drawn to an object on top of the iron fence along the hay meadow boundary. At first, I had no idea what it was as I was about twenty metres or so away. My initial asumption was that it was a tawny owl, and although it would be unusual to see one out in the day, I knew of some nearby who had young so it was certainly possible. After another glance I realised it just looked too small to be so. Baffled and bemused, and without my binoculars (typical) I grabbed my camera and went full zoom. To my absolute amazement, right in front of me was a little owl. Not only was this a first for me, it was a first recorded sighting in the area. If I hadn’t thought to turn my head for that split second I would have missed it entirely. It hasn’t been seen since. Check that one off the list!
The Little Owl (Athene noctua) and its prey.
Now unfortunately, it flew away immediately after I took this photo, so I wasn’t able to get a particularly good snap. In fairness though, with shaky hands and about six seconds to spare, I’ll take it.
After all the excitement, I went back to excavating for pignuts. Whilst in leaf, they are fairly easy to find, with the usual locations being along path edges and open woodlands. As member of the carrot family, it is their underground tubers that you want. They are a real find with their hazelnutty, sweet and slightly spicy taste. There are a couple of issues with them to consider however. One, is that you’ve got to get them before the badgers do. Two, they grow in the exact same areas as bluebells and lesser celandine with their bulbs looking all too similar. Both are poisonous so this is not a mistake to make. The key to avoiding this, lies in the digging out of the pignut. Once the pignut begins to lose its foliage, there is virtually no chance of discovering them. The time to identify is when they are in full bloom. The trick is to carefully unearth the tuber by delicately following the leaf stem until you reach it, taking great care not to separate them. If you can manage to dig out the whole structure of the plant; tuber, stem and leaf, then you can be certain that what you’re eating is a pignut! They really are worth the trouble, and would make an ideal survival food with so much starchy goodness.
Pignut or Earth Chestnut (Conopodium majus).
Field Mushrooms (Agaricus campestris) in abundance this year.
With autumn approaching in the not so distant future, I noticed a huge amount of the classic field mushroom cropping up in my local area. Unimproved pasture and meadows will provide you with this tasty treat and are relatively easy to identify, with their deep pink gills. With so many available, I decided to make several jars of mushroom ketchup. Variation is key!
When the autumn equinox is in sight then you are also sure to start seeing a diverse display of hedgerow berries coming to fruit. This is a magical time of year and it encouraged me to pick some, taking care not to take too many as they are a vital food source for birds and mammals. Elderberry and rowan jelly with a few blackberries and guelder rose berries thrown in for good measure proved to be a firm family favourite.
With the new growth on the local douglas firs fully in place, throughout September I collected a few of its needles to make a vitamin c rich - douglas fir tea. Just break up a few of the needles to release the oils, and boil for at least five minutes. The flavour profile is an intense orangey/grapefruit and will provide you with a massive hit of nutrients and tang. We are lucky enough to have a grand fir tree on my work patch, which I can only describe as douglas fir on steroids! Yet another fine example of the incredible bounty that nature provides for us.
The late summer harvest wasn’t over yet though. It was now late September and it fully felt like autumn had arrived. Nature had insisted on providing a few final morsels of utter heaven before the dark nights were to kick in.
Underneath the canopy of an oak, birch, beech and willow woodland, I found a small realm of penny buns, also known as ceps or king boletes. This is one which you may well have tasted in restaurants, but finding and picking your own is unassailable. A member of the bolete family, they are revered world over and it’s no wonder why. Many call them the best of them all, with their wonderful nutty flavour and champagne cork-like appearance. I love to find small ceps, as they taste superb when you cut off a thin slither and eat it raw, they are hard to beat. As far as treasure goes, these are the one.
Penny Buns (Boletus edulis) in all their glory.
Nearby, I found a small troop of orange birch boletes shooting up at the woodland edge with their striking marmalade shine and mottled stems. Another delicious addition to the pot, but are mildly toxic so cook well. With a taste akin to ceps, somewhat regrettably they turn dark grey as the cook, and quickly lose their vivid orange cap colouring. They can sometimes be confused with the orange oak bolete, which is also edible when well cooked. The clue to identification is in quite simply, observing which type of tree they are growing under. They possess a symbiotic relationship with said trees.
Orange Birch Bolete (Leccinum versipelle).
The autumnal equinox can bring us mixed emotions, much like the ones I mentioned at the start of writing this. The cold sets in, trees and plants can give you the visual impression that they are dying, the inevitable over wintering of many of our wildlife species can present us with an image of emptiness. Alternatively you can flip that depiction, and focus on the breathtaking transformation that now surrounds us.
It has arrived.
Trees are beginning to store their energy as we speak, just behind new buds, readying for the spring burst. Chlorophyll in the leaves begins to diminish, gifting us an unmistakeable kaleidoscope of colour as autumn abscission descends. Without the temperature drop and loss of daylight hours, we just wouldn’t witness this. Many animals frantically stock up on food supplies before deceleration into a winter slumber, which will see them through to their next spring equinox. It all depends on which way you look at it, and how we interpret our surroundings. It isn’t just about the obvious beauty either. The dark and damp conditions that this time of year brings, interlinked with vast quantities of leaf fall, provides our invertebrates with much work to do. They are the natural decomposers of of our world, and are vital to our ecosystems. Don’t forget to look just under the surface, as you may be surprised at what you can find lurking in tree cavities and crevices. Ultimately, the autumn rain spells a flurry of activity in every direction, that can’t be missed.
Leopard Slug (Limax maximus) nestled deep inside a veteran beech.
I’ll finish up with a final food for thought. On my hit list of delectable delicacies for the upcoming weeks are without doubt the purpled pairing of wood blewit and amethyst deceiver. Both of which seem to be present in copious amounts just now and stand out beautifully, by brightening up the woodland floor. I might even be tempted into cooking up a jelly ear or two; a real example of how weird and wonderful nature can be at times.
Wood Blewit (Clitocybe nuda).
Amethyst Deceiver (Laccaria amethystina).
Jelly Ear or Wood Ear Fungi (Auricularia auricula-judae).
Upon starting to scribble this blog, I was very tempted to incorporate spring 2020 as a starting point, albeit under a different title. After giving it some thought, I decided that spring is unquestionably a chapter in its own entirety, so I decided to leave that one for next year. Because let’s face it, right now spring is surely one of the very few events that we can fully rely upon to actually happen as planned! We may not be able to count on much in terms of certainty amidst these crazy times, but the explosion of life that next March will bring is undeniably one of them. That at least is a reassuring thought, and something that we can all to hold onto.
In the meantime, be sure to embrace the autumn season for all it’s worth and the cornucopia of wonder that comes along with it.
