Gather asparagus, nettles, yellow rocket, dandelions, and plantain from the backyard. Throw in skillet with fresh made butter. Gather eggs from the coop, beat and mix with fresh cream. Add eggs to the greens and cook till done. Fresh-made feta and violet flowers on top. Just another breakfast from the backyard.
I was sitting under a giant bur oak tree on the bear mound hill in the Vilas neighborhood. I had been dozing for a while when the tree started laughing. “What’s going on? Are you laughing at me?” I asked. Of course she was. “Crazy human! You’ve cut down most of my kind, plowed up all the grasses and flowers and poisoned the insects. You plant your own grass instead, and you turn it into food that makes you unhealthy. Why?”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said. “My people have been clearing land and planting grasses for 10,000 years. It’s how we became civilized. How else can we feed ourselves?” I asked.
She replied, “Don’t you know that we oaks fed your kind for much of your history as a species? Look at these seeds scattered around your feet. They’re full of nutrition and easily harvested and stored. Why do you need to deforest, plow, and cultivate? There could be plenty of food for you if you help keep the land open, make sure we get plenty of sunlight, and allow us to regenerate. All my brothers and sisters have either been cut, or are now choking in a forest because the fires no longer burn to keep the land open, and they are sick because they no longer get the sun they need. Our kind will soon be gone from this place, and if you continue plowing for food, yours will be too.”
When you’re ready to listen to the trees, you gotta be ready to hear what they have to say.
“Balanocultures were among the most stable and affluent cultures the human world has ever known.” -William Bryant Logan in Oak: the Frame of Civilization
Balanos is Greek for acorns, and balanoculture was coined in an article by David Bainbridge to describe cultures who derive significant subsistence from acorns. Bainbridge argues that prior to the granocultures that emerged with the advent of agriculture, societies in the Middle East, China, Mexico, and California, were largely dependent on acorns as a staple crop. Gathering and processing time for acorns is minimal relative to the labor required to grow annual cereal grains. He argues that the domestication of goats which prefer to browse oak seedlings, rising populations afforded by abundant acorns, and the cutting of trees for fuels, led to the demise of the great oak woodlands of the Middle East and China and the balanocultures they supported. Immediately following was the emergence of agriculture and the birth of granoculture.
In California and the Eastern United States, American Indians utilized acorns as a staple food source for at least the last 8,000 years. Here in the Midwest, Indians actively discouraged mesic forest succession, maintaining oak savanna/woodland for several thousand years as an ecological anomaly. Without their burning (and likely silvicultural) practices, oaks would have vanished from the region as modern climate patterns took hold 3,000 years ago. When the first European settlers arrive here, oak savanna was the most prevalent ecosystem in the Midwest. Nearly 90% of Southern Wisconsin was oak savanna in 1850. Today the savanna ecosystem is functionally extinct.
Even though the Midwest has lost more than 99% of its oak savanna/woodlands, there are still plenty of good oak, hickory, and walnut trees around. We’re lucky in Madison with groves of giant white and bur oak trees common on campus and around the city, especially in parks like Orton, Olin, and Vilas.
how to eat an acorn
Acorns are abundant, and exceptionally nutritious; full of protein and fatty acids. But they don’t come free. You gotta harvest, leach, shell, and dry them before you can eat or cook with them. It may sound like a lot of work, but it’s fun, an excuse to explore new places, and the results are delicious and satisfying.
harvest: The best place to harvest is under open-grown trees with short-grass understory. Many oaks are in mesofied woodlands where dense brush makes harvesting difficult. Parks are a great place to start, because they often keep the grass mowed. I found this nice grassy area in a bur oak grove along the capitol city bike trail. Acorns everywhere. In less than an hour, I filled up a milk crate and my backpack.
shell: The next step is to crack the acorns and remove the nutmeat. I dumped some of the acorns and spread them out on the driveway. Then I took a large block of wood and pounded the acorns, cracking the shells. Any large blunt object, like a stone, would work. With the right amount of force, you can crack the shells without pulverizing the meat. Then, I went through by hand, separating the meat from the shells. I read that some Indians would dump pulverized nutmeat and shell into a pot of hot water and the shells float while the meat sinks. Brilliant.
leach: All acorns have tannins. But members of the white oak tribe (white oak, bur oak, swamp white oak, chestnut oak, many more in California) have fewer tannins than members of the red oak tribe (red oak, black oak, etc.) Tannins are plant defense compounds which are bitter and cause sickness if eaten in sufficient quantities. So acorns need to be leached; white oak much less than red. Indians would often place baskets of acorns in rivers or streams. Flowing water quickly removes tannins. As skeptical as I am of our tap water, I trust it a bit more than the Yahara River. So I chopped up the nuts in a food processor, and placed the grounds into a pot with water. Chopping increases the surface area in contact with water. Swirl the grounds a bit and the water turns brown. These are the tannins. I stirred, drained off the brown water, and replaced with fresh water several times a day. By the 4th day or so the water stayed clear and the tannins were gone. You could leach in several hours by boiling them and continuously changing the water. But this would be water and energy intensive, and you’d probably lose some of the good oils in the process.
dry: Next you have to completely dry out the grounds. If you don’t, they’ll get rubbery and eventually mold (learned that the hard way). Drain the water from the pot, and spread the wet chopped meat somewhere to dry. I used a baking stone in the oven for a day or two. Placing them on a screen outside would work well, too, just watch out for squirrels. Once dry, they’ll store for a long time.
eat: Acorns are great on their own. A little sweet and a little nutty. Roasting on a fire or in the oven is also great. I’ve been using them in granola, chocolate chip cookies, and pie crusts. They add subtle nuttiness and substantial hardiness. Grind finely and they’re a great flour substitute in most baked goods. Coming up next is acorn flatbread.
viva la balano!
Bainbridge, David. 1985. The Rise of Agriculture: A New Perspective. Ambio 14(3): 148-151.
Logan, William Bryant. Oak: The Frame of Civilization. W.W. Norton, New York: 2005.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.
Highbush cranberry isn’t a cranberry at all. It’s a viburnum – a native understory shrub – and is prolific both in urban and natural areas. These are just now ripening around Madison, and so I grabbed one to eat on a recent walk with Tehya.
I immediately spit it out. Way too tart. Even fully ripe. Not bitter so much, just really, really tart. But these shrubs are everywhere, and they produce copiously, so I wasn’t ready to give up.
Despite their seeming inedibleness, I gathered a quart or so of ripe berries off shrubs lining the Yahara River. I had just gotten back from a bike ride on the Capital City trail where I had gathered several bushels of apples from my favorite neglected apple trees. So I quartered the apples and threw them in the crock pot with the cranberries, a cup or so of honey, and grated cinnamon and nutmeg. After a couple hours, I stirred the mix, mushing up the fruit. It was still pretty tart, so I added another cup of honey. After 8 hours, I mixed the mush in a strainer to remove the seeds and skins. What was left was a wonderfully sweet and tart (but not too tart) apple butter. I canned some of it and the rest I used to bake zucchini bread and on french toast. I’m sure there are many other ways to use this seemingly inedible fruit, but this one works well. The tartness can be toned down by cooking the berries in sugar or honey, and compliments well sweet fruits like apples. Next, I’m going to try cooking them down in port to make a cranberry sauce. Fall turkey season is right around the corner.
-According to Plants for a future, these fruits can cause sickness if eaten in sufficient quantities raw. That would be really difficult though; these berries are tough to eat raw.
-Look out for nightshade vines which may grow up through the shrub itself. These also produce bright red berries which are toxic.
Its almost July and the mulberries and cherries are ripening up fast. Birds aren’t interested in the cherries at least, and we’re the only primates in town. So grab some friends and go pick some now before they rot on the trees. They’re great to eat alone, better in pie, and best as a cocktail. If you like to have your pie and drink it too, here’s what to do:
Gather a bunch of each. If your neighborhood tree is picked over, you might have to climb. Our Jenifer St tree has been well picked, but there were still plenty in the canopy this morning. You’ll probably want about a gallon or so total. We did half and half cherry to mulberry – the mulberry sweetness nicely balanced the cherry tart. If you’re lucky enough to have multiple kinds of cherries, you can balance sweet and tart variaties.
Pit the cherries. This is the most time-consuming part. And remember, the more you eat while pitting, the longer it takes. Pitting is best accompanied with a strong ale to keep your palate occupied. Once you’re half way through pitting, throw the pitted cherries and half the mulberries in a pot. Add a dash of cinnamon, a half a cup to cup of sugar or honey, and enough whiskey or port to cover fruit. We used Buleitt Rye, a great whiskey for $20. Simmer for 30 minutes or so. Meanwhile, finish pitting and make a pie crust.
When the fruit concoction is a bit reduced, pour three quarters of the remaining liquid into a mason jar, and place in refrigerator or freezer to cool. Take the hot fruity mash and mix in with the rest of the fresh cherries and mulberries. Pour mixture into bottom crust and prepare top crust by rolling out into circle and cutting lattice strips.
For maximum satisfaction, hand weave lattice. Bake at 420 for a half hour, reducing to 375 as the top of crust browns, for another half hour. By the time the pie is finished, your drink mix should be appropriately cooled. Remove from fridge and poor into your favorite cocktail glass with a shot of vodka, rum, or whiskey, and a few ice cubes if you prefer. Enjoy your pie and pietini with friends.
Garlic Mustard is coming up everywhere now. Young, fresh, and delicious. Go out and get it before the leaves get too bitter to eat. We spent about 5 minutes harvesting and gathered enough to make about a pint of delicious pesto. Find a dense patch and high gain like a rabbit.
Garlic Mustard is an invasive species in our mesic forests. You can find it right now in the Lakeshore Nature Preserve, the Arboretum, and many other woodlands around. It is considered invasive because it spreads quickly and can displace other native plants, such as the spring ephemerals (spring beauties, trout lillies, bloodroot, etc). They thrive in the shade of the mesic forest. When fire and grazing restore mesofied lands back to open savanna in the Midwest, Garlic Mustard won’t be a problem. So get out there and eat it while you can!Garlic Mustard Pesto Recipe -several handfulls of young garlic mustard leaves – plenty of olive oil -several garlic cloves -nice hunk of parmesan cheese -toasted pine nuts, almonds, and/or walnuts -lemon juice (not too much) -salt and pepper Blend together in food processor. Start with the garlic mustard and slowly add olive oil to help facilitate the blending. Add chunks of cheese, toasted nuts, garlic, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Add more cheese if pesto is too bitter.