{"id":51690,"date":"2019-05-22T17:28:32","date_gmt":"2019-05-22T21:28:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themainemag.com\/?p=51690"},"modified":"2021-06-22T08:48:41","modified_gmt":"2021-06-22T12:48:41","slug":"working-with-the-land","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themainemag.com\/working-with-the-land\/","title":{"rendered":"Working with the Land"},"content":{"rendered":"
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She told me to dig, and so I did. I pushed my hands under the top layer of dirt, following the stem of the short, green sevenleaved plant. I felt around under decaying brown oak leaves until I found a rhizome. The dirty white \u201croot\u201d was the shape of my pinky finger, and just a little smaller. \u201cEat it,\u201d she said, and I did. It tasted like summer, fresh and bright and a little peppery.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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This was my first taste of Indian cucumber (Medeola virginiana<\/em>, a member of the lily\u00a0family), but it wasn\u2019t the first time I had been out\u00a0with forager Jenna Rozelle. I\u2019ve known Rozelle for a\u00a0few years, and I\u2019ve watched her work from afar for even\u00a0longer. The expert hunter and gatherer is one of my favorite presences on social media. On Instagram, she posts about squirrels she kills and stews, blossoms she mixes into salad, wild mushrooms she marinates and serves with crackers, and the off-grid house she\u2019s slowly building. When consumed in bite-sized portions, her world seems magical and unreal, the stuff of dreamy indie films and young adult books (I read My Side of the Mountain<\/em> a half\u00a0dozen times as a kid, as did Rozelle). The magic doesn\u2019t fade\u00a0when you get up close, but it does change. You start\u00a0to see the hard work that goes into each foraged\u00a0meal, the effort that goes into teaching, and the\u00a0thoughtful decisions she makes every day.<\/p>\n

Although people have been foraging since we were painting the insides of caves or hunting down long-antlered herds, there aren\u2019t that many professional foragers around these days.<\/p>\n

In the age of factory farming, mega-corporations, and big-box stores on every corner, there\u2019s little demand for wild foods. As a culture, we\u2019ve forgotten what wild foods taste like; most people living today have never known the bitter crunch of dandelion greens or the sweet, slightly astringent tang of an autumn olive. We\u2019re used to watery, supersized strawberries, bland, puffy mushrooms, and meats that were raised with yield, not flavor, in mind. For most of us, it\u2019s all we\u2019ve ever known.<\/p>\n

This makes a career in foraging hard to\u00a0manage. There are eaters who love wild\u00a0foods, but it is a niche interest. Foraging\u00a0had a brief bloom in the early 2010s when it was\u00a0labeled a hipster trend by lifestyle magazines and\u00a0newspapers. Urban foraging, in particular, became\u00a0the hot way to spend a Saturday for residents of Los\u00a0Angeles and New York. But in Maine, foraging isn\u2019t a\u00a0flash in the pan. Foraging goes hand in hand with hunting,\u00a0and many experienced Maine hunters have been known to grab\u00a0a few fiddleheads on their way home from turkey woods. But this is a private practice, one that not many true woodsmen and woodswomen like to talk about, lest they reveal their secret harvest spot and come back to find it overplucked.<\/p>\n

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You\u2019re more likely to strike up a conversation about wild foods with professionals in the food industry. People who work with flavor do like finding new ones to play with, and Rozelle makes much of her money from restaurants, breweries, and meaderies. She supplies them with hard-to-find ingredients, including local botanicals used for flavoring brews (including wild herbs, barks, and roots). She also runs a series of outdoor education classes, many of which are promoted via word of mouth and social media. She hopes to expand her business soon and start a homesteading farm, where she can cultivate species of produce that typically grow wild. \u201cI plan to have a three-pronged approach,\u201d she says. \u201cI\u2019ll be teaching and foraging, and we\u2019re in the beginning stages of starting a homestead business.\u201d Along with her husband, Shaughn Darcy, Rozelle hopes to turn her 26-acre plot of land into a small, self-sustaining, mainly off-grid business called Thickery Pricket Farm.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cIt\u2019s going to be a slow evolution,\u201d Rozelle explains. \u201cWe want to grow food for ourselves, and for the market.\u201d But her land, located in Parsonsfield, isn\u2019t exactly set up for farming. It\u2019s steeply sloped and furrowed with ruts from logging trucks. (\u201cWe bought it because it was cheap, not because we could grow things here,\u201d she says.) So, like a weed growing toward sunlight, Rozelle has figured out how to adapt. In the skidder ruts, they\u2019re planting elderberries, which like to have wet feet and full sun, Rozelle says, \u201cso those ruts are perfect.\u201d She\u2019s also looking around the land, taking stock, seeing what might grow well and feed customers. She wants to sell food and make enough money to live, but her number- one concern is living in tandem with the natural world. \u201cWe don\u2019t want to work the land,\u201d she says. \u201cWe want to work with the land.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Although plants played a big part in Rozelle\u2019s childhood (her mother was an herbalist), she came to foraging \u201csomewhat later in life,\u201d she explains. She spent her teenage years in New Hampshire and Maine, longing to get out, to live in the big city. So she moved to New York, where she studied audio engineering at the Institute of Audio Research in Manhattan. She got a job at a record label. Seeing Rozelle now, in muddy jeans and hiking boots, with a bare, freckled face and messy braids, it\u2019s hard to imagine her in an urban setting. But for a while, that\u2019s where she wanted to be. Until she didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

After a few years in the city, something inside her shifted. She wanted to be outside\u2014not in Central Park or surrounded by skyscrapers, but really, truly outside. She moved north to Roque Bluffs in downeast Maine, which is where she began her foraging business. \u201cI\u2019m mostly self-taught,\u201d she says. \u201cI spent a lot of winters in downeast Maine, reading and walking around and studying plants. In the winter, it was mostly trees, shrubs, and seaweeds.\u201d As the spring plants grew, so did her knowledge.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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While there are plenty of wild foods growing in northern Maine, there aren\u2019t as many restaurants that serve that kind of fare. Eventually, Rozelle moved down to the seacoast of New Hampshire, then to southern Maine, where she lives today with Darcy. She\u2019s been cultivating her client base slowly and building a reputation as a knowledgeable, engaging instructor. \u201cI\u2019ve got a lot of classes lined up this year, and I\u2019m enjoying the process of teaching and becoming a better teacher, which is kind of new for me, honestly,\u201d she says. \u201cInherently, I lean toward solitude.\u201d In the past, she\u2019s \u201cleaned too far\u201d in that direction. She\u2019s no stranger to the anxious feelings that arise when you\u2019ve been away from the public for too long or the creeping sense of disconnect that comes when you\u2019ve spent too many days in silence. Although part of the reason Rozelle hunts and forages is because she loves being alone in the woods and meadows of Maine, she\u2019s come to see the value of having a community. \u201cI\u2019ve started to acknowledge that I am human, and that humans are pack animals,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

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Teaching has helped Rozelle forge connections with like-minded folks in southern Maine and seacoast New Hampshire. Even though foraging is a hobby most often practiced solo, there\u2019s a lot of value in coming together to share tips and tricks, to talk about the ethics of gathering wild foods, and to swap recipes. Rozelle\u2019s workshops are small (she caps attendance at 20 students) and draw people from all walks of life. Most of the participants want to learn more about their surrounding environment\u2014they\u2019re not here because foraging is trendy but because it\u2019s a practical way to get acquainted with the woods. Once you can identify plants, you become better able to read the landscape, to understand what\u2019s going on around you. Foraging is a tool, like tracking, that provides insight into the ecosystem. It\u2019s not only about what you can harvest, but what you can see.<\/p>\n

On a late fall afternoon, I meet up with one of Rozelle\u2019s classes on Brandmoore Farm in Rollinsford, New Hampshire. We are headed out for a walk around the fields and woods, followed by a meal of warm soup (prepared on a camping stove) and snacks, eaten under the early evening stars. Foraging beside me are brewers and gardeners, a student, a lawyer, and another foraging teacher. There is a girl with hair dyed blue and a few people with curling gray hair. I wouldn\u2019t expect to see these people together, except perhaps at the checkout line at Trader Joe\u2019s. Yet here we are, ready to gather greens, pick berries, and gnaw on black birch twigs.<\/p>\n

As we walk, I get to talking with Chloe Girouard-Martel, who drove up from Connecticut to take this course. She works as a horticulturalist for OEC Brewing in Oxford, Connecticut, and she heard about Rozelle\u2019s work through a friend of a friend. Like me, Girouard-Martel followed Rozelle on Instagram before signing up for one of her work- shops. She\u2019s been foraging for only about a year, and she wanted to expand and hone her ability to safely identify wild foods. \u201cI\u2019ve always wanted to get into mushrooming,\u201d she reveals, \u201cbut I was very intimidated by it all.\u201d Rozelle makes her \u201cfeel empowered\u201d to harvest natural foods. (A few days after this walk, Girouard-Martel went out into the woods of Connecticut and returned home with a harvest of hen of the woods, hedgehog, and black trumpet mushrooms. \u201cJenna encouraged me to trust myself,\u201d she says. \u201cAnd to start small.\u201d)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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There\u2019s something about gathering wild foods that makes one feel bold, independent, and truly self-sufficient. Whether you\u2019re eating tiny nibbles of Indian cucumber or filling baskets with fragrant mushrooms, foraging gives a sense of accomplishment. But that wasn\u2019t my favorite part of Rozelle\u2019s class. There is something absurdly joyful about exploring the woods with a group of nature-lovers. We look closely at plants, fungi, and bacteria\u2014those that aren\u2019t edible still hold interest for me. I learn that you can pop the Pepto-Bismol\u2013pink pustules that grow on fallen logs, and that these slime-generating bubbles, colloquially called wolf\u2019s milk (Lycogala epidendrum), are created by an amoeba. On our way back to the parking area, we stop for a moment as Rozelle points upward. As a group, we crane our necks and watched as geese fly overhead in a perfect V-shaped formation. It\u2019s a sight I\u2019ve seen too many times to count, and yet it still makes my heart leap. This motley collection of strangers share the moment, mundane and yet magical, and then we trudge onward over the muddy ground, silent for a few breaths.<\/p>\n

Every encounter I\u2019ve had with Rozelle has ended in the same way: with food. Once, we met up for coffee and she sent me home with a ripe melon and a cardboard box of wild grapes, tart and sweet. Another time, we sat in her backyard while sunflowers lolled their drowsy heads around us, and feasted on buffalo-marinated chicken of the woods mushrooms, hedgehog mushroom tapenade, spiced goat cheese, and sliced feral apples. At home, this is how Rozelle likes to cook. Her meals are filled with wild foods, both fresh and preserved, fish she caught and game she hunted, and cheese she purchased from local farmers. (One person can\u2019t do everything, after all.)<\/p>\n

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\u201cI don\u2019t have the most sophisticated palette,\u201d Rozelle says as she prepares dinner for our small group of three (forager, writer, and photographer). Wild foods, Rozelle explains, can be challenging for people. She tends to like everything, so she has to be aware of what might be too tough for students to wrap their tongues around. She\u2019s still \u201cworking on\u201d her cooking skills and experimenting with recipes that are familiar to those unused to bitter greens, astrin- gent berries, or funky fungi. \u201cI\u2019ve been trying to make things that anybody would say is delicious,\u201d she says, \u201cnot just things I like.\u201d<\/p>\n

Fish are easy, and so is venison. Stewed rabbit and squirrel can be a bit harder, but they\u2019re still excellent when done right, Rozelle says. Hunting itself has \u201ccome very slowly,\u201d she says. \u201cI didn\u2019t vilify hunters, but I didn\u2019t see myself that way,\u201d she says. \u201cI never wanted to kill an animal.\u201d But, as she dove deeper into foraging and began incorporating more and more feral foods into her diet, she started to rethink hunting. Fish, she says, are a good place to start. \u201cThey don\u2019t have eyelashes, which means, unfortunately for the fish, that people don\u2019t think they\u2019re that cute.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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For Rozelle, hunting, foraging, and sharing meals all serve a vital purpose. They help her to connect with the greater world, with animals, the land, and her fellow humans. \u201cI always have the place\u2019s well-being in mind because I\u2019m eating off of it,\u201d she says. \u201cI have a reciprocal relationship with the land.\u201d Her goal is to share that sense of interconnection with others, to broaden horizons and open eyes to the wild beauty and bounty that flour- ishes around us. \u201cIt\u2019s the nature of food,\u201d she says. \u201cPeople like to eat together. I like each meal to be a celebration of place, of where we just walked.\u201d From salads to soups to spreads, each meal with Rozelle tastes like Maine, earth and water and air.<\/p>\n

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GET A FEEL\u00a0FOR WILD FOODS<\/p>\n

Take a class<\/strong><\/p>\n

The best way to learn is with a guide. Books are useful, but nothing beats hands-on learning. Classes are available through the Maine Primitive Skills School<\/a>, Maine Huts and Trails<\/a>, Maine Mycological Association<\/a>, Maine Audubon<\/a>, and from Arthur Haines of the Delta Institute of Natural History<\/a>. You can also book a private class with Jenna Rozelle, and there are adult-education classes available in towns throughout the state.<\/p>\n

Start easy<\/strong><\/p>\n

Some plants, like ostrich ferns, have a few dangerous look-alikes. In late spring, you can gather fiddleheads from silty floodplains. Berries are also relatively easy to identify and low-risk. Don\u2019t dive straight into mushrooms\u2014ease in with cattails, garlic mustard, and dandelion greens.<\/p>\n

Never go without a guidebook<\/strong><\/p>\n

Even an experienced forager like Rozelle brings books with her when she\u2019s foraging, which allows her to double- or triple-check her identifications.<\/p>\n

Leave some for the forest<\/strong><\/p>\n

Overharvesting is a threat to local ecosystems. Never take more than 20 percent of what\u2019s available. More conservative groups, like the Nordic Food Lab<\/a>, suggest taking only 5 percent of what nature makes available.<\/p>\n

Listen to your gut<\/strong><\/p>\n

With each new plant you choose to learn about, once you\u2019ve positively confirmed identification and you\u2019re ready to try a taste, start small. Have a few bites and wait a day to make sure it agrees with you before committing to a meal. Many foods (not just wild) are great for most people but don\u2019t agree with a small percentage of the population.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

She told me to dig, and so I did. I pushed my hands under the top layer of dirt, following the stem of the short, green sevenleaved plant. I felt around under decaying brown oak leaves until I found a<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":51755,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[21,10,15],"tags":[],"locations":[],"people":[],"class_list":["post-51690","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-culture","category-features","category-profiles"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\t\n\t\n\n\n\t\n