“To come upon one of them suddenly is a memorable experience,” writes Mabey, “only rivalled by the taste of the first mouthful.”Ībove all, though, Mabey’s wonderful book was my portal to the past. My mother had put her foot down about experimenting with wild fungi, but I longed to find a giant puffball. Of course, much in Food For Free remained aspirational, to be enjoyed only in my imagination. I felt like a witch as I brewed potions and tried them out on my little sister. I loved the names: betony, lovage, horehound. I dug up part of our lawn and grew little-known herbs from seed, or from plants snaffled from the common (this was before digging up wild plants became illegal). (Fifty years later, it’s still on my bookshelf I’ve used it countless times while writing my Wolf Brother books and my Gothic novels, particularly Wakenhyrst.)įood For Free encouraged me to go further than merely trying recipes. Mabey’s references to the 17th century herbalists Gerard and Culpeper prompted me to save up my pocket money and buy my own copy of Culpeper. I also loved the book’s forays into folk medicine: the fact that yarrow was once used for treating wounds, and that grated comfrey root made a plaster for setting bones.

To my delight, my wine looked and tasted like Ribena – albeit with a formidable kick: my mother found me dozing tipsily on the kitchen floor after I’d syphoned off a batch.įood for Free unlocks many of the mysteries of plant life. I couldn’t afford a bottle of spirits to make one of Mabey’s tempting herbal liqueurs, but in the local library I dug up a recipe for elderberry wine, and set to work brewing. To my delight, my wine looked and tasted like Ribena – albeit with a formidable kick: my mother found me dozing tipsily on the kitchen floor after I'd syphoned off a batch

The nettle soup was delicious but I’d forgotten to put the lid on the liquidiser, so my mother came home to find her kitchen spattered in virulent green. On one memorable day while my mother was out, I inflicted a herbal lunch on my father and sisters. I added borage leaves to my long-suffering parents' Pimms and on a cottage holiday in Wales, I dragooned the whole family into picking bilberries my sweet bilberry pudding was one of my rare successes. I roasted dandelion roots and made coffee – which only I would drink. (I never found any growing wild, but I adored the notion of a field-snack.)Īnd of course I tried Mabey's recipes. Wild redcurrants “are best eaten as a bracing field-snack”. The lowest blackberry at the tip of the stalk is the fattest and sweetest.

Elderberries are ripe when the clusters start to turn upside-down. I loved Mabey’s bits of advice, which to a suburban child felt like the inner mysteries of plant lore.

The Wonder-Gatherer by Anonymous