Horticultural

Foraging books, apps and maps – a review

There are lots of foraging books out there, but which one’s the best? Here’s my review some of the major titles.

The Garden Forager by Adele Nozedar (£12.99, Square Peg)

 

(Review added March 2 2015)

 

A good foraging book will always throw up some new plants you've not thought of trying, and provide inspiration for using your regular repertoire of foraging materials in a different way in the kitchen. I didn't know, for instance, that the berries of Leycesteria formosa (pheasant berry) are edible. The detailed line drawings are informative as well as looking pretty. The book takes as a starting point foraging in your own garden, which is a good place to begin once you start to realise the care that needs to be taken when foraging beyond the garden gate (contamination from roads, passing dogs, crop spraying, municipal weedkillers and more). The recipes are slightly more angled toward the Heston Blumenthal end of the culinary spectrum, but if you're a little bit adventurous there are some lovely ideas in here: I am definitely going to try the pine needle vodka tipple she describes, for instance. 

 

Backyard Foraging by Ellen Zachos (£11.99, Storey)

(Review added June 17 2013)

Just the title sold me on this book because back garden foraging is my speciality. With two small kids, there isn't much of a chance for excursions to remote places, whereas my back garden is a couple of steps away, and packed full of plants I can eat, as this book shows. I consider myself to be a reasonably experienced forager, now, but there were some genuine surprises in this well-illustrated and informative book. Oregon grapes, yes; nasturtiums, naturally, but firethorn? Really? And spiderwort (Tradescantia virginiana), too. I am still delving into it to see what other edible delights might be on offer in my garden. There's a useful code at the top showing what seasons each plant can be eaten, and the text is well-written. This is an American book so British readers may have to skip the section on prickly pears.

The Forager's Kitchen by Fiona Bird (£16.99, Cico Books)

(Review added June 17 2013)

This isn't so much a guide to foraging as a cookbook for foraged ingredients. Like The Forager Handbook (see below for a review), it's inspiring, but somehow the recipes seem more realistic: something you could recreate in your own kitchen rather than a recipe you'd see on the final of Masterchef. I, for one, can't wait to try salted caramel wild hazelnut shortbread, and crabapple and wild honeysuckle jelly. This book is no doubt more accessible to the foraging newbie, because it shows you in full technicolour the culinary possibilities foraged ingredients can provide. I'd love to go foraging with Fiona Bird, she clearly knows her stuff.

The Weeder's Digest by Gail Harland (£12.95, Green Books)

(Review added on July 19 2012)

When this book landed on my desk, it took me just a few seconds of flicking through to discover it was my new favourite foraging tome. It ticks all the boxes for me: excellent photos for easy identification, detailed information about the possible risks of different foraged plants (which are often alluded to in other books, but rarely covered in enough detail), and a good selection of recipes and ideas for using your bounty. There's also a useful section on growing some of these plants in your own garden, if you aren't up for picking plants elsewhere. It's small enough to carry around in your rucksack for on-the-go identification of plants, but detailed enough to serve as your main reference guide.

Food For Free by Richard Mabey (£4.99, Collins Gem)

This is the classic forager’s guide, first published more than 30 years ago and still going strong. Small enough to fit in your pocket, sturdy enough to survive a few dips into muddy puddles, it features hand drawings that are detailed enough to help you make a positive identification of most plants you’ll come across. Mabey’s also honest about how good things taste, and balances practical details with lots of historical information too. If you’re serious about foraging, this is a must-have, and at £4.99  it won’t cost you a fortune.

The Thrifty Forager by Alys Fowler (£16.99, Kyle Books)

This is not a field guide in the vein of Food For Free, but a book you can study at home before heading out on a walk, for inspiration and guidance, then open it again once you’re home to confirm your foraging finds . That said, there’s loads of useful information on identifying plants, including very clear guides to leaf shape and positioning. The strength of this book is that it focuses on things that you’ll find in urban and suburban settings, rather than the wild places of Britain. This makes sense - after all, most of us will want to forage regularly in our home environs. Alys also provides food for thought for would-be foragers in the form of sections where she meets various people and projects with a foraging theme, such as Incredible Edible Todmorden.

*Disclosure: Alys is the Guardian’s gardening columnist and as gardening editor, I edit her copy.

The Forager Handbook by Miles Irving (£30, Ebury Press)

I met Miles Irving at the Hampton Court Flower Show this year and tasted his delicious meadowsweet cordial and yarrow flower shortbread. His book has been out for a couple of years now but I hadn’t come across it before. It’s a weighty hardback tome, most definitely a reference book rather than a field guide. This book is exhaustive, with hundreds of plants listed, and impressive detail about where each plant has – and hasn’t – been found in the UK.

It’s one for the gourmet cook, including recipes featuring foraged ingredients from top chefs. That’s because Miles forages for a living, supplying top restaurants with everything from fat hen to shepherd’s purse. I loved some of the detail here, such as the fact that he supplies the famous London restaurant The Ivy with the tiny flowers of the ivy-leaved toadflax to garnish a signature dish (I tasted one of these the other day – absolutely flavourless to my unrefined tastebuds).

But what lets this book down are the pictures. The small black and white images lose a lot of the detail necessary for a positive identification, so I am left wondering what the difference between wall lettuce and shepherd's purse really is. It’s a great book for the serious forager but you’ll need to cross reference with other books to check that you’ve got the right plant and not a poisonous imposter.

Hedgerow by John Wright: River Cottage Handbook No.7 (£14.99, Bloomsbury)

(Review by Toby Travis, added September 26 2011)

Small enough to fit in a backpack, entertaining enough to read in the bath - Hedgerow by John Wright is a worthy addition to the excellent River Cottage Handbook series. The blurb describes the book as "a thoroughly practical guide to gathering edible plants from hedgerow and wood, meadow and heath".

The plant descriptions are witty, opinionated and informative. The photos, together with the text, have been sufficient for me to safely identify such wild delights as alexanders, garlic mustard, yarrow and wood sorrel. That I burnt my mouth eating lords and ladies leaves instead of sorrel is entirely my own fault as there is a photo in the book highlighting the difference between the two.

There is also a very useful chart showing when particular plants are in season.

I haven't tried any of the dishes from the short recipe section at the back, but chestnut pancakes with birch sap syrup must surely be the holy grail for the dedicated autumn forager.

It's not cheap at £14.99 but, along with Mushrooms and Edible Seashore (Nos 1 and 5 respectively in the same series), this has become my primary source of inspiration before setting out on a foraging expedition.

Put together, the seven handbooks (also including concise and illuminating volumes on bread-baking, cake-baking and preserving), form the foundation for an entire approach to thinking about, acquiring, and preparing food.

Apps and maps

There's a useful collaborative map of where useful and edible plants are available which you can view online at Forager's Friend. This is a superb idea, which also comes as an app for use on the move, but like a lot of projects of this nature, it's partly dependent on where you live as to whether you'll be able to glean much in the way of foraging tips for your local area - there are just two entries for my home town, for instance (although I plan to add lots more!). 

There are also a number of foraging  apps available, none of which I have tried because I own the world's most basic mobile phone. If you have, do add your experienes with these below. Or have you got another favourite foraging guide?  If you have, please feel free to add your thoughts below, or even email me a mini-review to add to this post – [email protected]. I'll be adding other titles as I read them - to come next, Stalking the Wild Asparagus by Euell Gibbons.

Jarvis Cocker, you may just have a point

 

"This is the true story of the weeds, the origin of the species,

A story of exploitation, cultivation, civilisation

Found flowering on wasteland unnoticed, unofficial, accidental"

(Song lyrics from the song Weeds II by Pulp)

Long-time readers of my blog may remember that I own a weed wand, but I haven't used it for over a year, for killing weeds or indeed making creme brulee. Truth is, I've become a bit of a weed obsessive. (Oh yes, and I've also had another baby, which does somewhat limit time for weeding.)

Like many things in life, my weed fascination began in childhood. It all started with pineapple weed, Matricaria discoidea (pictured above, photograph by Arran_Edmonstone on Flickr). I was on holiday in Dorset when someone first demonstrated the pungent pineapple smell that comes from the crushed flower heads. I couldn't fathom why a weed would smell this good (still don't know the answer, can anyone help with that?).

As a gardener, identifying weeds is crucial - you need to know what to keep and what to remove - but I've increadingly found myself taking this detective hunt outside the garden: when I am out and about I spend most of my time with my head down, checking out what's growing in cracks in the pavement.

Why? I'm not sure. It's not always about foraging - although I did write a piece for Grow Your Own magazine last year on the possibilities of eating weeds. Sometimes it's just about the fascination of an odd name, like pellitory of the wall or shepherd's purse. And sometimes I just want to salute the tenacity of a plant that's managing to make its way in a hairline crack in a wall, like this ivy-leaved toadflax.

So it was with great joy that I read Weeds by Richard Mabey recently. I'd lie in bed with the book in one hand and a weed identification guide in the other, cross referencing one to the other to work out what thornapple looked like and so on. He describes just the kind of expeditions I like, criss-crossing London's wastelands in search of weeds, some exotic interlopers, like the tree of heaven, and other more familiar (though ultimately no less foreign) sights such as the wonderfully named shepherd's purse.

The planting of my green roof has only increased the fascination with wild plants, weeds, whatever you want to call them. I've already published a list of what's up there intentionally - what will be fascinating is to see what arrives under its own steam. Two things have bolstered my desire to reconsider weeds and their worth in and out of the garden: first, VP's recent post over at Veg Plotting about the delights of a verge full of dandelions, and second, the reading of Anne Wareham's new book The Bad Tempered Gardener, in which she insists we must look afresh at plants and throw away our prejudices and preconceptions about them - in her case, ground elder and variegated ground elder (the latter of which I already grow myself).

It's not always about the foraging possibilities of weeds, but often it is, and my other recent read, Stalking the Wild Asparagus by American foraging Euell Gibbons, has inspired me on this front (notwithstanding his obsession with making chiffon pies from absolutely EVERYTHING). One of my first missions after finishing the book was to make violet jelly - something I read about last spring but, heavily pregnant at the time, never got around to. This year I was ready, but had trouble tracking down the necessary quantities of sweet violets (there are a few dog violets thrown in here, you'll notice). A nifty bit of foraging by an army cadet hut produced a scant half-cup of blooms but it was enough to make half a jar of lovely lilac coloured jelly: given that Fortnum & Mason charge over a fiver a jar for the stuff, it wasn't bad going for the price of the sugar and pectin. The recipe's here if you want to try it for yourself.

Next up, I need to find some Japanese knotweed to try out Gibbons' knotweed jam recipe and this vodka recipe from Andy Hamilton. There is something (hopefully literally) delicious about subverting something so demonised in food and drink, don't you think?

Book review: How to Grow Fresh Air by BC Wolverton

I've been delaying and delaying getting a plant for my desk at work, but I am starting to regret that having started to read Dr BC Wolverton's book How to Grow Fresh Air: 50 Houseplants That Purify Your Home or Office. The author carried out research for Nasa looking at air quality in spacecraft and for potential lunar bases, in the process discovering that certain houseplants are brilliant at filtering pollutants that are rife in modern homes, such as formaldehyde, xylene and benzene. A range of health complaints are attributed to exposure to these pollutants, found in everything from particleboard to fabrics. Indoor air pollution could also be a major factor in sudden infant death syndrome, Wolverton says, as most new babies go into freshly-painted, carpeted rooms which are therefore full of pollutant emmissions. Yikes. Reading further about how efficient plants are at dealing with the likes of formaldehyde, it made me want to run out and buy a load of new plants for every room in the house right now.

Dr Wolverton helpfully gives each of the plants he features a rating out of 10 based on removal of chemical vapours, ease of growth and maintence, resistance to pests and transpiration rate. The number one rated plant is the areca palm, Chrysalidocarpus lutescens, which he describes as "consistently rated as one of the best houseplants for removing all indoor air toxins tested". Other high scorers include the rubber plant, Ficus robusta, common-or-garden ivy (Hedera helix) and various members of the Dracaena family.

I've already got several of the book's top 50, but I'm also aware I have no plants in my daughter's room or my bedroom - places where a bit of pollutant removal should be a priority, it seems to me. The top performer of the areca palm looks like a must-have, but they seem fairly pricey as they're usually sold as largish specimens of 1m tall or more, but I just spotted they have them in Ikea: a 120cm tall plant for £16.99. Sanseveria trifasciata, commonly known by by its un-PC title mother-in-law's tongue, only scores 6.3 on Dr Wolverton's scale, but fascinatingly it differs from most plants in that it produces oxygen at night rather than carbon dioxide - a good one for the bedroom perhaps?

If you're one of those people that can't reall see the point of houseplants, this book is worth a read. If you're into houseplants already, it'll shed new light on your hobby. Just don't buy all the areca palms from Ikea before I get there, ok?!

Plots Against Hitler - an update

I blogged a while back about a little war-era pamphlet I bought called Plots Against Hitler. Then this email turned up from Bill Murphy:

I was surfing the web and came across your name. The 'Dig for Victory' poster
showing a foot on a spade was actually the original work of my wife's
grandfather, Thomas Morgan Jones. He was an artist and was commissioned to
design the poster during the war. The foot on the spade is his and was
created using a box containing soil and his spade. The sky was added later
I believe. Do you have any information on who produces copies of the
posters today?

How fascinating. It's always revealing to find out how iconic images came into being.

I emailed Bill back, telling him the poster can now be bought from the Imperial War Museum shop. I'd still love to put the Plots Against Hitler book on my blog, but still need to establish the copyright situation - perhaps I'll contact the Imperial War Museum to see if they can help. Will keep you posted.

Fish and Lloyd rule

Mrs Be over at Carrots and Kids is yet again on the money in this post about how hard it is keeping your garden in shape at this time of year. And she knows what she's talking about when it comes to time pressure, with five children to my more manageable one.

My excuse is that I move house in less than four weeks - so while the lawn will be mowed once more (possibly for only the third or fourth time this year - yes we do prefer the "meadow look" in my household) and I'll cut back the ivy threatening to engulf the neighbour's garden, but beyond that, my time is going to be taken up packing and conducting bad-tempered calls to utility companies for the next few weeks.

I have, however, been daydreaming about my new garden and plans thereof, and continuing my project to read the entire works of Christopher Lloyd and Margery Fish (as an aside - how did Margery fail to throttle her know-it-all husband?). They both beat anything from the last few years into a cocked-hat writing-wise, and are providing much food for thought in terms of planting for my soon-to-be 70ft north facing plot, but how did we cope before full colour photography was the norm? Having said that, my own book wasn't exactly replete with pictures and that did well.

What gardening book/s are you reading at the moment?

Turdus pilaris, or my search for a good bird book

A sighting of a fieldfare* while on holiday a few weeks back brought back happy memories of my days as a member of the YOC or Young Ornithologists' Club, the youth wing of the RSPB (now, sadly, rebranded as the far more prosaic Wildlife Explorers).

I've always had a keen eye for spotting birds, and my interest was rekindled by reading the excellent book How to be a Bad Birdwatcher by Simon Barnes. But I'd like to lay my hands on a really good field guide, because while the RSPB's site is really excellent for helping you to identify birds from their plumage and call, that's no good when you're out and about. I can't count the number of times I've been on the allotment or out on a walk when I've seen a bird and wished I could check what it was.

So, if you can suggest a comprehensive, compact guide to the birds of Britain, let me know in the comments below.

*Yes, I still draw childish pleasure from the fact that the thrush family have the Latin name Turdus ...

Plots Against Hitler: an update

For those of you following my investigation of whether I can scan a WWII pamphlet on allotments called Plots Against Hitler and put it on this blog, and the slew of comments that followed from readers, there's more news.

PAG arrived in the post today and is not a government publication - it was printed in 1941 by the Northumberland Press - the author's Raymond A Cook. So I am pretty sure it's still well within copyright and so the scanning is a no-no - as a published author myself I'm fullly aware of the importance of copyright law, so I'll have to limit myself to a summary and the occasional snippet.

I've only got as far as the title page so far but loved this quote:

It is becoming increasingly obvious that, amongst the plots calculated to bring Nazism to its knees, those measuring 300 square yards are destined to play an important part.

Which reminds me, I am planning to put up on this blog a little chunk of my book on the tricky issue or poles, rods and perches, aka how allotments are measured. This should fully explain the importance of the 300 square yards reference.

(If you still want your fix of war-era allotment literature, Iaipai helpfully pointed out in the comments to my last post that the British Library has reprinted a couple you can get your hands on.)

"Digging for victory" literature

I just bought a WWII-era booklet called Plots Against Hitler on eBay. It's about allotments, of course. Just trying to find out whether it's legal copyright-wise to scan it in and put it on this blog ...

Book review: Bringing a Garden to Life

Very occasionally - probably because my day job is being a journalist - I get sent new books to read in the hope I'll review them here. The latest of these is Bringing a Garden to Life by Jenny Steel. It's both the story of the creation of the garden at Lower Blakemere farm, home to the wildlife gardening company Wiggly Wigglers, and a guide to creating a haven for wildlife in your own garden.

It's a beautiful book, packed with images of the many and varied creatures and plants that thrive in the garden, but it's also packed full of information on how to make your own wildlife garden. There are chapters on making a pond, hedges and orchards, meadows, and vegetable gardens - I've only had a chance to read a couple so far, but I've already learned lots. There are also freestanding pages sprinkled throughout the book focusing on "feature creatures" and "focal plants", which look at everything from barn owls and great crested newts to lavender and dandelions.

Take the teasel plant for instance, included in the book as a "focal flower". I was bought some of these plants in the spring and I've been fascinated by the extra birds they have brought into the garden already. But I had no idea that I can expect goldfinches in the late summer, feeding on the seeds, or that the place where the leaves clasp the stalk was known as the Bath of Venus, and the water that collects in it was thought to cure eye infections and get rid of freckles.

My only quibble with the book - and it's a really small one - was that I found the typeface a bit irritating. I guess it's designed to chime with the "wiggliness" of the name of the firm, but I found it distracting from the photos and text. 

But more than anything else, the book makes me want to visit Lower Blakemere farm and meet Wiggly WIgglers founder Heather Gorringe in person, and also to do everything I can to get some more wildlife into my own garden. Funnily enough, I was sitting in my garden last night when I saw a flash of blue dropping into the bird box on the wall. The box had sat idle since we moved in, but it seems at least one bird is finally becoming interested in it, perhaps as a roost rather than a nesting box at present. Perhaps it's the teasels ...

Going green, circa 1973

My dad found a copy of the 1973 publication you see to the right and gave it to me. I was reading it on the train on the way home tonight and it's a fascinating snapshot of the birth of the green/hippy/homesteading movement of the early 1970s.

The text is a lovely eclectic mix of tips on everything from how to can tomatoes and how to forage for wild greens to the best way to clean silver and the debate over home births.

Clearly this publication has a bit of a cult following in North America: it seems to be going more than 30 years later, too.

It's written in a "down-home" style that's pretty alien to British writers and will bring to mind the Waltons more than anything.

I'll bring you some of my favourite tips in the coming days but one of my favourite pages offered instructions on how to make a wool spool using four nails and a big wooden cotton reel, which brought back childhood memories of constructing long tubes of wool that weren't good for much.