Showing posts with label foraging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label foraging. Show all posts

Monday, 7 July 2014

how long is a piece of string?

I finally got the chance to have a nettle string making class with our resident Celtic wildman last week. We have a new experimental archaeology project underway at work - Bryn Eryr, a reconstruction of an iron age roundhouse farmstead from Anglesey in North Wales. As well as the main building operation, there is a lot of peripheral activity going on across other departments. The farmers are growing a field of spelt with the intention that the straw will be used to thatch the roof. The blacksmith has been making replica tools to create the wooden objects that will populate the buildings. The Celtic guy is charged with producing 4km of nettle string to make rope for lashing the roof structure - so he is busily teaching the technique to everyone who is willing (and a few who said yes without listening to the question properly).


The operation falls into two stages - harvesting and preparing the fibres, then allowing them to dry and shrink overnight before twisting them up to make string. I have pictures of the first stage - but not enough hands to take process pics of the making phase. Gloves are advised for cutting the nettles and stripping the leaves off, but a good rub with a gloved hand is enough to remove the stings and make them friendly to handle. The stems are then lightly crushed and peeled to get the outer fibres. It reminded me of peeling the stringy bits off celery.


Twisting the fibres together to make string requires a little technique and creative skill. But not in a 'go away I'm writing War and Peace' kind of way - more the 'sitting round the fire having a gossip while creating with your hands' thing. A bit of patience and some acquired muscle memory will have you doing it while hardly even looking, just like your Nana knitting and watching the wrestling at the same time.

There's an excellent tutorial here from the lovely Ray Mears*

With my little pile of nettles I made about 10 metres of 2 ply string, which I then twisted up on itself twice more to make about a metre of 8 ply cord. (That's it in the picture at the top of this post). It's incredibly strong - I was going to try and take a picture to demonstrate its weight bearing capacity but couldn't think how. Suffice to say I could easily restrain someone against their will with it should I decide to kidnap them - don't have nightmares folks!

Not sure I'll be going into the string making business any time soon, (or the kidnapping business for the record). But it's a fantastically satisfying feeling to have the skill to whip up something so useful with your bare (okay gloved) hands.


* (who could canoe me up the fjords any day - Grylls might have the poster boy looks, but Ray would always cook you a much nicer tea).

Saturday, 7 June 2014

tea time two

the first homemade herbal tea of the season


with mint from my new herb garden
and lemon balm from the community garden that I helped out a bit
next year there will be home grown fennel seeds
it needs a few elderfowers for sweetness
I have some drying in the shed
it feels good to store the first harvest of the year
sunshine in a cup
xxx

Tuesday, 15 April 2014

duck egg blue

I put myself down to do foraging walks at work on Saturday.
A wander through the woods gathering spring greens,
then collect some fresh eggs from the duck shed to make an omelette.
(£2 per head to cover materials)
Sounds good huh?
Bookings for the morning session - 0
a duck (if you're a cricketer)
Bookings for the afternoon - all cancelled.
0 & 0 - a golden duck.
So what do you do with a pile of duck eggs and a bad attitude?


frittata party

in other news
my bottle babies are growing fast…


The auto exposure on the camera has gone for the detail in the black lamb
and given me some kind of 'look 15 years younger' bleach out. 

But hey - I'll take it!


..and Mr A-P and I decided to whisk ourselves away after work on Sunday,
 for a night in the Gower to celebrate our second wedding anniversary.


The weather was glorious and the beaches remind me of childhood holidays.
Happy Anniversary Mr Asparagus Pea  xxx

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

old dogs, new tricks

The wind is howling through the trees outside and rain is lashing against the windows. At work today I attended a mental health awareness course. Among the list of '5-a-day' ingredients to boost your mental wellbeing were 'learning', 'connecting with others' and 'physical activity'. On that basis I would like to recommend….

extreme foraging*


collecting razor clams and mussels on a beach in Pembrokeshire, in weather as bad as today


the wind was so strong it was hard to stay upright


essential equipment for extreme foraging - plastic bags and an iPhone!



It might be hard to tell from these blurry photos - but we had FUN!!! 
All the bad stuff and busyness blew away.
We learned some new skills and emptied our heads at the same time.
(We even stopped making lists of things to do). 

It was a Saturday afternoon seashore foraging course, organised by Ed from the fabulous Llys Meddyg hotel in Trefdraeth (Newport Pembs). After a breath stealing few hours on the beach, we headed back to the hotel to cook up a seashore supper, eaten in front of the log fire in the hotel bar. Heavenly!

The next day the weather was like this….


Ed was running the course again on the Sunday,
(for wimps this time obviously).

*(it was my idea - but the lure of a weekend away with bit of fine dining thrown in convinced Mr A-P)

Saturday, 28 September 2013

put the flags out


This morning as I walked, a breeze stirred the trees and a soft pitter-patter of beech nuts started to fall around me. The path was quickly covered with a crunching carpet of little triangular brown nuts – it’s a mast year! That’s when all the trees in the forest have a quiet word with each other, and get together to produce a bumper crop of fruit, nuts and seeds.  Apparently it occurs every 5 years or so, and it’s happening now.



I know from reading my foraging books, that beech mast and acorns fall into the ‘useful in times of famine’ category - but free food falling on your head is hard to ignore, right?  So in the spirit of scientific enquiry, I scooped up a couple of pocketfuls and headed on my way. A quick spot of research suggested that peeling and toasting the nuts was the way to go. Now, normally I would do this at home, (honest boss - if you’re reading), but my current kitchen-less state rules that out. (As far as I know it is not possible to toast nuts in a microwave). Also – my ongoing foraging adventures are something that I am trying to develop as potential learning activities for the museum. Coincidentally, the main obstacle to this is our lack of suitable kitchen facilities. In previous years I have run ‘Pick It, Cook It, Eat It’ sessions, using produce from the gardens. Unfortunately, our lottery funded redevelopment plans mean that the building (with kitchen space) I was using, has been commandeered for a five year temporary entrance and shop facility.

Little did I know - inspiration was about to strike. At lunch time as I stood in the staffroom waiting for the kettle to boil, my eyes alighted on this beauty



..overlooked and never plugged in, or used for the entire time I’ve been here. A quick clean, and there you have it - my very own, good as new, you beaut, mobile kitchen facility!

So anyway – let’s toast them nuts!



- shucked and shelled...


..toasted and salted.

Verdict: If I was running the ‘End of the World Survival Cocktail Bar and Grill’, I would definitely be serving these as a delicious, (but hideously overpriced) beer snack. Nothing at all wrong with them conceptually, or in the taste dept; just an enormous amount of fiddle-faddling around for not much end result - (more Heston Blumenthal than Ray Mears).

BUT – totally worth it for potentially solving my ‘lack of foraging kitchen’ dilemma.Yay!!! The nettle omelettes are on me!

Tuesday, 9 July 2013

at the edge

Some people like mountains and the triumph of reaching the top, I like to go to the edge.


The place where the land meets the sea; the cultural edge - as far as possible from the cutting edge.
Big skies, wide horizons and the weight of city life off my shoulders.
Time to find the simple stuff that pulls the memory threads of my childhood and reminds me I'm alive.

Thanks to an extremely generous, belated wedding gift from my inlaws, we have just had a long weekend in Aberdaron at the tip of the Lleyn Peninsula, (the bit that sticks out at the top of Wales). They bought us a voucher that paid for three nights at the hotel where Mr Asparagus Pea proposed to me on the beach two years ago. 


The Lleyn is part of the Welsh speaking heartland of North Wales.  It's where I first had the courage to open my mouth and speak the language in a way that has become part of my identity, rather than just an intellectual party trick.  It's why I sound like an electrician from Caernarfon - much to the amusement of my work colleagues. Welsh is everyday there - the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker (and the naughty swearing boys with tattoos in the chip shop), all breathe and dream the language.

The weather was glorious...


we walked the cliffs


drank beer and watched tennis
Yay Andy Murray!



and poked around empty chapels and graveyards.


Poor Sydney - I've never seen a typo on a gravestone before.

We swam in the sea and played the beach games of my childhood


found treasure


and proof that I need to learn more about seashore foraging.


I picked out paint colours for the new kitchen (never off duty!)


We ate lobster from the chippy


and bought a picture of a lobster from my nephew in-law's show


So to the family in Felinheli ...

... thanks guys - it was heaven!




Monday, 10 June 2013

happy accidents

Sometimes a perfect day is planned for, other times it's a happy accident - and very occasionally, the stars align and the two come together. A little scheme that's been bubbling on the back burner, meets an opportunity that's too good to pass up - for me that's always the best combination.

This week the gods of industrial action gave me a Saturday off work that I hadn't expected. After opening the curtains to glorious sunshine and checking the tide times for our area - I knew it was the right day to go and hunt down my next foraging treasure.  Marsh Samphire - deliciously salty and impossibly expensive in smart restaurants, it grows freely through the summer in the tidal salt marshes that garland the Welsh coast.  (Well that's what the books say, and I have been planning a mission to find some for a while now).

You know you married the right guy when the question 'How do you fancy going to stand up to your shins in mud in the estuary to forage for samphire?', is met with the slightly bleary eyed response of 'Oooh - that sounds exciting'.  That's my boy!


Armed with wellies, buckets and scissors, we set off for the coast to an area that my research told me should deliver the goods. After a bit of a walk and some eagle eyed searching we found our prize.


It's a little bit early in the season so the shoots are still very small.


This one was our champion specimen.


The rest were more like this.


But an hour or so of glorious squelching and snipping, yielded enough for a supper dish for two.


Now I'd like to tell you that we gathered the rest of our supper too, but that would be a lie! We stopped off at the supermarket on the way home to buy a bag of mussels, some sourdough bread and enough wine to make moules mariniere, with a glass or two left over for the sunburned foragers.


Wash the samphire in fresh water just before you cook it - I steamed it for about 3 minutes.
Served with butter, black pepper and a great big bowl of delicious mussels.


Perfect end to a perfect day.