Foraging about

September used to be such a busy month with endless back-to-school or back-to-university demands involving large quantities of food, stationery, clothing, nagging, paperwork, shopping, time, driving and, mostly, money. (Shopping for children’s shoes is a bleak memory that I keep hidden away in the deep recesses of my brain, never to be allowed out.) It also called for vast reserves of patience and calm, which were often in short supply.

These days September is no less busy, but definitely less stressful. In fact, I love it because it’s foraging month and I spend many happy hours seeking out all the food that the hedgerows have to offer. It’s just so much more satisfying to go out and find my own rather than simply buying it. I like to think of myself as a 21^st century hunter gatherer, although I’m merely hunting out the elusive sloe and gathering every blackberry I can find. To be honest, it’s probably cheaper to buy jam than to make it, but this way at least I know what’s in it. An awful lot of sugar.

I think this might be an activity for retired people. Or semi-retired people. Those with demanding jobs or full-on family responsibilities couldn’t possible find the time needed to search for fruit, pick it, take it home, remove the stalks, wash it and then turn it into whatever concoction you have in mind. Although now I’ve written that sentence, I am starting to wonder why anyone would bother.

I certainly didn’t do this when I lived in Canada. I can remember walking happily by Lake Ontario (I was a student in Kingston at the time), enjoying the fall weather and munching on a Mcintosh apple, which was definitely bought from a grocery store. I think I’d barely seen an orchard at that point. And when I tell my old friends from those days about picking blackberries from the hedgerow in England, they look completely blank. Although they’re city people, so I don’t know whether Canada just doesn’t have wild blackberries and hedgerows or maybe just not in downtown Ottawa. I can recall wild blueberries up at the cottage, but they were so tiny, they were barely worth the effort. You’d need a whole team of retirees just to make a pot of jam.

What is it about foraging for food? I do love a bargain, and free is the best bargain you can find, but it’s more than that. I have convinced myself that I’m doing wonders for the environment, that I’m in touch with nature and leading a generally wholesome life. The fact that all the sugar, pectin and gin needed are mass produced who knows where doesn’t seem to register in my brain. Although my brain isn’t quite as nimble as it once was – I think it might be marinated in sloe gin. Home-made of course.