The Urban Huntress
The residential area between West Fourth and West Tenth in Kitsilano is a leafy sanctuary. The sound of traffic on the commercial avenues melts into the background here, making way for chirping birds and rustling leaves. Shade-dappled character homes painted cream, cherry-red and mint-green nestle between great English oaks, weeping willows and Norway maples. The roots of these giants create great cracking lumps in the concrete; the battle scars of nature’s war with human development.
Alethea Lymworth is examining spider-like yellow blossoms on a tree in front of a white-shingled house. She picks one, rubs it between her thumb and index finger then smells it. The delicately spicy scent of witch hazel greets her nose. Its sunburst blooms are the first sign of spring. Lymworth knows these streets well. Her father is Kolin Lymworth, owner of Banyen Books & Sound — a Vancouver hub for all things spiritual since the ’70s.
A keen cyclist, around 10 years ago Lymworth began noticing interesting plants and trees loaded with fruit while riding through the residential streets and alleys of Vancouver. “It’s kind of another world where there are all these plants that have been left alone,” she says. Her interest in botany was piqued, and she began to pick the odd plant to take home and identify. And so began Lymworth’s passion: foraging.
The Oxford English Dictionary defines foraging as “the act or instance of searching for food,” but to Lymworth it is much more than that. She forages in Vancouver, and while there are challenges and even some dangers, Lymworth sees it as a way to make urban living manageable. The city can feel like an assault of concrete, glass and vehicle fumes. Foraging connects us with the nature in our environment and makes the urban landscape come alive.
The first plants Lymworth found when she started foraging seriously were rosemary, fennel and peppermint. She picked the odd herb for dinner or to make some tea. Soon she began to notice nuts, fruits and mushrooms. Hawthorn berries for beer, linden flowers for cordial. Rose hips, hazelnuts, sweet chestnuts, apples, chive blossoms, St. John’s Wort, plums. All these Lymworth finds in residential areas of Vancouver. She then decided to share her adventures in foraging and developed a website. Urbanhuntress.com includes tips on harvesting and recipes for foraged goods, like monkey puzzle tree nut halva and unripe figs in syrup.
A tree on West Fifth Avenue catches Lymworth’s eye. It’s bare, but she identifies it immediately: an English walnut. In July, this tree will be laden with green walnuts, perfect for making chutneys and nocino, an Italian walnut liqueur. The tree is in the front yard of a small yellow house with a bright red door. Some branches are hanging over onto the sidewalk. Lymworth has a system: when she finds a tree or bush on a property, she waits to see if it is harvested. If the fruit goes to waste one season, she will be back the next with a bag. “…if it’s hanging over the property line, it’s not like you’re doing something illegal.” she explains.
However careful she is, run-ins with angry homeowners can happen. Many Greeks settled in Kitsilano and planted fig, apple and pear trees — trees they missed from the motherland. Many now stand in the yards of rented properties, the original owners long gone. Some of the homes, however, are still occupied by their original Mediterranean owners. One incident Lymworth remembers well is an elderly Greek woman in Kitsilano shuffling out of her back door and shaking her little fist at her for taking an apple from her tree, even though the branch was hanging over the street. “People can get territorial,” Lymworth says.
Is there anything Lymworth won’t forage for? “I’m not really into mushrooms.” she explains. There are dedicated foragers in Vancouver who make part of their living finding mushrooms for restaurants, but they tend to keep their spots secret. Those serious foragers also know a great deal about the different mushrooms indigenous to the area, including the ones that can kill you.
Lymworth encourages people to study mushrooms, to be able to differentiate and identify them, but people shouldn’t let a little knowledge fool them into thinking they are experts. “There are a couple of (types of mushrooms) growing around the city that are very dangerous,” she says. They look just like the white button mushrooms you might use in a lasagne, but with names like death cap and destroying angel it’s easy to understand why you should avoid them. Her advice if you are ever in doubt? Leave it. Better an empty-handed forager than a dead one.
Mushrooms are not all foragers should be wary of. Lymworth spots a yew tree covered with ruby-red berries on the side of the road. She picks one and explains that, while birds can eat them no problem, the seeds of the berry-like arils (flesh covering a single seed) of the yew tree contain taxine alkaloids that can stop a human heart. Some diehard foragers pop the aril into their mouths, bite off the antioxidant-rich flesh and spit out the toxic seed. The taste is slightly sweet and the texture can be slimy. If you’re worried about accidentally swallowing or biting the seed, simply tear off the fleshy part and throw the seed away. Some risks are not worth taking.
Toxic berries aside, there are other reasons to forgo certain plants. Dog parks should be avoided, or anywhere there might be a lot of dog walking activity. “You don’t really wanna forage stuff near a dog run that could be getting peed on,” Lymworth says. No amount of rinsing and scrubbing could make those plants worth it. You would always be wondering, “Is this dog pee I’m tasting?”
A yard on the next block has drawn some admirers. A couple are taking pictures of the carpet of brilliant purple laid out around a bare and twisted old tree. The ground is completely covered in snow crocuses. Another sign that spring is upon us. The deep violet petals fade to a paler hue as the eye follows to the flower’s centre where the pollen blazes a fiery yellow. Lymworth crouches down to inspect one. Some crocuses can be eaten, but not this kind. No matter. Foraging isn’t just about finding things to eat, it’s also about reconnecting with the beauty and splendor of nature.
A car horn blasts on a road nearby, breaking the spell. The city is still there.
