Aug 1

Aug 1 Patience is a Virtue

I should like to point out what I imagine is ‘A Delicious Irony’ in its purest form.

The thing I find hardest about living in the country, and wandering the lanes and hills on an almost daily basis, is judging exactly when to go for the big prize.

I grew up foraging with my Mum. She knew what everything was, and what you could eat, and what you certainly could not eat. As a doctor and chemist she was particularly hot on the latter. But it did mean our house, and her special larder, was always full of odd things. Nice things mainly. Just occasionally nasty things. She had what is best described as an ‘enquiring mind.’

Which I should point out has been passed on to me.

Where most people see a hedgerow, I see a supermarket. At most times of the year busting with tasty things to gather and bring back for immediate consumption, or cooking, or preserving or brewing.

But the important thing is that it can’t be rushed. A walk for me consists of … enjoying the ambience of the countryside, noticing where the possible future harvest can be achieved - could be in a hedge, on a ledge, slope, someone else’s garden, on a mountain top.

Sadly, around where I am there aren’t many useful Elder trees to provide flowers for Elderflower Champagne or berries for wine. But there are plenty of Hawthorne, aka May trees. This year’s May Wine was very drinkable.

Out walking with my friend Robin, I was momentarily distracted during a conversation about Veganism by a bush with many blackberries to deliver soon, and also what my mother called Wimberries. I think it’s probably a local name, because I get a lot of blank faces whenever I mention it.

Now is peak time for them. A few more trips to the mountain tops this week I think - and then what - Wimberry Pie, flavour some gin!

I will keep you informed.

The delicious irony? All these foraged things… Vegan!