I have a confession to make: I'm addicted to foraging. Maybe I've just a stronger connection to the hunter/gatherer in me, from which we all came, than others. I think it's the little pleasure you get finding one natural treasure after another, seemingly put there deliberately for the taking. Maybe it's the trust nature has in us that, as long as we don't exploit the resource, she'll keep providing these seasonal goodies.
Black(rasp)berries, fiddleheads, ramps: you name it. It's a privilege of growing up on a big property in the country. I've gone so far as to collect invasive species like knotweed and garlic mustard and put it to use. On a different level, I used to forage for antique glass bottles in a decades old dump on our land, which sounds gross, but it's really just decomposing or broken glass and plastic among soil; everything else is long gone. It also might not be the forager in me but the frugal and sustainable side; these treats are free and abundant, and using what is already around me instead of consuming goods from halfway across the world gives a huge sense of satisfaction.
This has to do with New Zealand because the other day I went out with Bryce Wigley's mother to dig for TuaTuas (Maori word) at low tide. The English word is Pipi; they are a type of shellfish, similar to mussels, clams, or oysters (I don't know much about seafood). We went out thigh deep and started digging our heels and toes into the sand until we'd hit something hard and shell-like. They move in beds, so you either find none or tons. For people who didn't know what we were doing it would've looked like a really strained, hip-shaking dance. But everyone out there was obviously a local, one by one exiting the surf with heavy bags, while we waded over to the abundant pipi beds they had found. Occasionally a crab would scuttle over my feet, which were very tired by the end. Hitting a pipi with a foot then digging it out by hand before a wave crashes gave me a tiny adrenaline rush every time I lifted one out of the water. Even better was knowing they were plenteous, free, and would provide an authentic New Zealand meal later (despite the fact that I knew I was probably only going to try one or two then be done..). With the task being so rewarding, and feeling like a local, I did not want to leave the water. It's like finding a blackberry bush, stuffing yourself, then seeing one after another irresistible berry a little further on until you're half a mile down the trail.
The most popular way to eat them is in fritter form, ground up with onions, flour, butter, lemon, parsley, and pepper, then fried. It's an unappetizing medium brown, but the result doesn't taste much different than a potato pancake (except a little sandier). Steamed, they're too gummy for me but that's been my experience with most shellfish, so it was mostly what I expected. Not a personal meal choice but, no regrets :)
