Foraging the autumn woods

The shaggy philanthropist: shagbark hickory

Autumn, the season for nuts and ripe fruits, provides a fair exchange for the flowery days of summer. The forests are drenched in color and tree limbs dripping with bounty. One such bountiful tree is shagbark hickory.

Shagbark hickory is easy to identify. Look for tall trees with shaggy bark peeling in long vertical strips. Leaves are toothed and pinnately divided, meaning that each leaf is comprised of leaflets arranged in pairs. In this case, look for two to three pairs topped with a single terminal leaflet. Nuts are green, about the size of a golf ball, with four distinct seams. Given that only mature shagbark hickory bears nuts, it may be easiest to keep your eyes to the ground.

The actual nut is encased within two layers of protection. As the nuts ripen, green hulls will begin to blacken. Using your hands, pry at the seams to remove the hull and you’ll find the inner shell. Lay the shell on its flat side, grab a hammer and give it a solid – but not too solid – thwack! Ideally your shell will crack in an “x” at which point you can break it away revealing the nut inside. You may find yourself digging into the shell to excise nut fragments and that’s okay too, it’s worth the effort.

Shagbark hickory (Carya ovata) is closely related to pecan (Carya illinoensis), and their nuts are equally delicious. These sweet, buttery morsels are high in calories, nearly 200 calories per ounce, which is pretty special for a wild plant food. Rich in vitamins and minerals, they provide protein, carbohydrates and fat, including the all-important omega 3 and omega 6 fatty acids.

Unlike many of our wild foraged nuts, you can eat these right out of the shell, although hickory nuts will be tastiest and last longer if dried upon harvest. Once pried from hulls, drop your nuts in a bowl of water. Those that float can be discarded. Pat nuts dry and spread them out on a tray beside a strong fan. Turn them daily for about a week. Once fully dried, store your nuts in the shell in the fridge or freezer for use in baked goods or granolas... or just crack and gobble.

The post-season bonanza: hen of the woods

Cooler days and longer nights may herald the close of harvest season, but on your next woods walk be sure to take a gander at the base of old oaks. There you might find, nestled in the leaf litter, a bountiful mushroom. Hen of the woods is a tough ol’ bird, happy to roost in the crisp autumn air, yet tender and constant, often reappearing in the same place year after year.

Hen of the woods (Grifola frondosa) is not to be confused with the unrelated chicken of the woods. Whereas chickens are brightly colored, pale yellow to bright orange, hens are understated, greyish brown and easily camouflaged by autumn leaves. However, if you’re familiar with chickens, there are some similarities. Both are polypores with an affinity for hardwoods. Although, having made a meal of both, I must say I prefer the earthy umami flavor of a hen any day.

As a polypore, hen of the woods does not have a classic mushroom appearance. Rather than a round cap set atop a stalk, her “caps” better resemble fan-like fronds, layered like a fungal rosette. Peel away a cap and lay it underside-up in your palm to reveal a nearly smooth surface, creamy white in color, and speckled with pin-sized pores. Hens never bear gills nor clearly defined stalks. They can range from five pounds to 50, although the smaller ones will surely be more tender.

Slice the fan-like rosette from the tough base and then peel the fans apart in sections. Clean by rinsing in water or patting clean with a damp cloth. You can prepare hen of the woods any way you would a commercial mushroom, however I think she’s best roasted. Toss with olive oil, salt and pepper, and fresh sliced garlic, roast at 400 degrees until fragrant, shimmery and charred on the edges. You may have more hen that you know what to do with, but once roasted, this mushroom preserves well in the freezer.

Hen of the woods knows how to thrive amidst the changing seasons and assists us as well. Nutritionally, hens are mineral-rich and contain polysaccharides that benefit our gut flora. Medicinally, she’s an adaptogen, which means she can temper the effects of stress on the body. Pair her with hardy cool-weather greens or alongside buttery roasted squash and do your mind, body and palate good all autumn long.

Menace or medicine?: rosehips

Take a stroll down a country lane or wander near a thicket and you’ll likely find her. Most folks scorn her. I’ve cursed her too. She’s domineering and has little respect for boundaries. But despite her prickly nature, invasive multiflora rose provides food and medicine.

Multiflora rose (Rosa multiflora) hails from Japan and was introduced to the United States in the mid 1800s. She was first appreciated as a rootstock for ornamental roses and later prized for erosion control, hedgerows and to attract wildlife. We have since recognized our folly. She quickly reclaims old fields and pastures, travels wooded trails, devours disturbed land and pals around with such notorious invasives as autumn olive, bittersweet and barberry. But please, just hear me out.

In autumn, multiflora rose is bejeweled with scarlet fruits. The fruit of multiflora rose contains tiny seeds packed into a waxy casing. That waxy casing, which we call the rosehip, is tart and flavorful, offering bright, lip-puckering goodness. And rosehips only grow tastier with a frost. Look for these tangy morsels well into winter dangling from well-armed woody canes.

Not only are rosehips delicious, but rich in vitamin C and a wealth of bioflavonoids such as lycopene, rutin, quercetin, and catechin. Reach for a cup of rosehip tea to support the immune system and bolster cellular health. Their astringent nature can also tone tissue and reduce inflammation. Add rosehips to your bowl of steel-cut oats or morning smoothie. Pair them with orange zest or lavender in scones or muffins. They add a tangy flavor to any dish and brighten shortening days.

To harvest, simply pluck scarlet fruits from canes. Watch out for canes’ hooked prickles! Gather a pailful. At home, put on your favorite tunes – this is going to take a little while – slice open hips at center (like two halves of an egg), pinch out seeds with orangey hairs and discard. Reserve the waxy hips. Once you’ve got a heap, air dry or pop in the dehydrator for later use, blend fresh into recipes, or simply nibble for a sour snack.

- Originally published in Dirt magazine’s Wild Food column