Foraging in the city

Seeking sustenance in Israel’s concrete jungles.

By RACHEL MYERSON
Nutrition and sustenance: At the City Tree Kitchen (photo credit: CITY TREE COMMUNITY)
Nutrition and sustenance: At the City Tree Kitchen
(photo credit: CITY TREE COMMUNITY)
Let’s begin with what foraging is not: Foraged food is not beyond your reach. It is not exclusively for trendy youngsters/eco-warriors, and it is definitely not reserved for the elite.
It is, however, an innovative way of shopping and eating, a source of variety, a money-saving trick, a connection to the earth. Eighty percent to 90% of plants growing in Israel are believed to be edible, and they are not limited to remote hillsides or overgrown fields. They are abundant in urban areas, even in city centers.
Through talking to various foraging enthusiasts, it quickly became clear that this community is not only one of the most accepting in Israel, it is unfailingly generous with its knowledge and enthusiasm. Viewing the thriving metropolises of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv through their eyes will add another dimension to the cities you thought you knew.
Foraging vs dumpster diving
The act of foraging harks back to our ancient hunter/ gatherer practices. It is simply the act of searching for, and harvesting, wild foods, known as gathering. In the modern world, this is less common among humans and is a term reserved mainly for animal feeding practices.
There are, however, many cultures in which this act is still the main, or at least a prominent, source of nutrition and sustenance.
Relying on foraging demands large stretches of land and abundant crops, often requiring societies to relocate after exhausting the available supply. While this nomadic and insecure lifestyle does not appeal to most Westerners, rising numbers are turning to foraging for various reasons, ranging from supplementing their groceries, connecting with nature or simply widening their diets.
In addition to the “classic” definition of foraging, which requires knowledge and a good eye so as not to ingest poisonous substances, there is an easier alternative known in the field as “dumpster diving.” This involves asking eateries or market vendors for leftover food.
Ronit, author of the internationally read blog Penniless Parenting; Shachar, an ecology-minded resident of Tel Aviv; and Paz, a permaculture design specialist, are dumpster diving enthusiasts.
Ronit describes collecting chicken carcases in Jerusalem’s Mahaneh Yehuda market after watching a vendor throwing them away minutes earlier.
“I collected an entire 21.8 lbs [9.9 kg.] of chicken parts!” she wrote on her blog. The feedback in the comments ranged from envy to “You’re actually going to eat chicken that was in the GARBAGE? Disgusting.”
Ronit answered with grace: “I don’t see what is disgusting about it.... It’s no different from having gotten it from the butcher himself one minute earlier. Other than the price, that is.”
Shachar laments the waste in Tel Aviv’s Carmel Market.
He estimates that around half of the vendors are happy to give away leftover produce, particularly on Friday afternoons when the market closes for the weekend.
“I can come back with five bags full of food.... It is one of my passions,” he says.
The other vendors either throw the produce away or, in the case of many Arab vendors, take it home to feed their animals. In many European countries, notably France and the UK, there are strong initiatives to deliver leftover food to the homeless, thus eliminating waste. Sadly, in Israel, this has yet to be implemented.
Frugal foragers
Foraging can save you a lot of money. Shachar estimates that in autumn and spring, when produce is plentiful, he saves 30-40% on his groceries. In the winter, Ronit eats her greens for free, using only those she has gathered. Summer is the slowest season – which is not to say that one can’t economize.
‘Foraging is like finding money on trees.’(photo credit: RACHEL MYERSON)
‘Foraging is like finding money on trees.’(photo credit: RACHEL MYERSON)
“Funnily enough,” says Shachar, “the most expensive things in the market are the most locally grown – citrus, loquats, figs. I’ve never understood it.”
Foraging, he says, “is like finding money on trees. Organic produce, no money required, with an educational and enjoyable process.”
Paz prefers his own shakes to those sold at the market.
“I mix [foraged] chickweed, thistle seeds and orange juice,” he says, though his weakness is local spears of wild baby asparagus, lightly steamed or tossed in a salad.
“This is gourmet foraging,” he explains. “It’s delicious.”
On discovering unknown plants, foragers are always cautious.
“First you approach the plant and see if you are drawn to it,” explains Shachar. “Then, you take a leaf or a fruit and smell it. If it smells pleasant, you cut off a little bit and place it on your lip, then wait for a minute or so. If it doesn’t burn or sting, or it isn’t too bitter, you repeat the process on your tongue. If you feel okay, you may then tear off a little piece to chew.”
Ronit runs affordable foraging tours in the center of Jerusalem. She aims to share her passion so that it is accessible to the masses, unlike many foraging instructors who charge so much that their knowledge is accessible only to the elite. On the contrary, Ronit targets lower-income families that could significantly benefit from her frugal foodie tips.
Foraging for the foodie
Admittedly, this piece came about due to my own curiosity as a “foodie.” I realized that while I could wax lyrical about the best markets or eateries in Israel, I had little knowledge about food sources. This seems to be a common problem for those living in urban areas.
Alon, Tel Aviv’s resident expert of all things edible, summed it up perfectly: “People tend to be suspicious [of foraging], but on the other hand they are curious. They don’t want to be bored.”
Foraging offers access to a host of plants, herbs and fruits that are not available commercially. They range from carissa, a reddish fruit that grows throughout the country on hedges and has a hint of raspberry, to hubeiza (mallow), a plant with large leaves that is very popular in Arabic cultures, which refer to it as “bread” due to its sustenance. This plant is rich in vitamin A and grows plentifully in most community gardens. Paz likes to add it to his falafel mix or grind up the fruits into a floury texture.
Alon: ‘People tend to be suspicious [of foraging], but on the other hand they are curious’(photo credit: CITY TREE COMMUNITY)
Alon: ‘People tend to be suspicious [of foraging], but on the other hand they are curious’(photo credit: CITY TREE COMMUNITY)
“It’s kind of bland, but kids love it,” he says.
Ronit raves about cactus paddles, which she gathers in the summer. Their large size and nourishing qualities make them a time-efficient product to forage, though one must watch out for the thorns.
Shachar recalls a fruit he ate at Sacher Park in Jerusalem with a look of pure pleasure.
“It’s not sold in any market. It’s wild that it is so tasty!” he enthuses.
Foraging, however, is an acquired taste. Paz warned me that first-timers find everything quite bitter, even fruits and herbs they believe themselves to be familiar with. While the bitterness is not unpleasant, it is unfamiliar to the Western palate. Younger shoots tend to be more palatable, and mixing gathered goods with sweeter ingredients or spices can also help.
“I mix rosemary or calendula petals with fresh figs,” says Paz, “or use wild sumac, a small red berry with a citrus flavor, to make lemonade.”
On my first foraging trip with Alon, in which we explored a community garden he helped establish north of Tel Aviv, I quickly fell into the “trap” of replacing familiar ingredients with gathered goods. The naturally sun-dried, small and wrinkled oranges I collected from the ground found their way into my Friday night roast chicken, flavoring the flesh with a citrusy perfume far superior to any Persian lemon.
Alon favors the more enlightened, simple route.
“I only lightly steam the plants, but prefer them raw, not trying to make them into something else,” he says.
Foraging, flora and fauna
Foraging not only connects you to the great outdoors, it also exposes you to nature’s medicines.
“Wild foraging in the city,” explains Paz, “is very much about creating a relationship with nature. What may look like weeds to one person is medicine to another....
Essentially, you are what you eat.”
In fact, bitterness tends to mean that a plant is good for you.
For many foragers, it is commonplace to walk around with bags in the expectation of filling them with wild plants encountered during the day. Ronit’s children are known to say: “Mommy, can you not forage on the streets?” Nevertheless, they are her partners in crime, learning about the world as they taste it, their pockets bulging with loot. For Ronit, this is the best education she can offer them.
Alon has similar childhood memories, which inspired him to create similar surroundings for the next generation.
“In community gardens, the children are working or playing, or sometimes crying,” he says. “But most importantly, [they are] working with the land.”
As I learn more about this practice, I notice small changes about myself. Walking the dog is no longer a chore and I no longer walk staring blankly ahead. Instead, my eyes drift upward toward the fruit trees that frame the pavement, or curiously peer into gardens to see what wild goodies I can identify.
Foraging and spirituality
Nature’s treats can be found everywhere.
“I pick wild capers, which crack out of the rocks of the Western Wall,” says Paz. “It is amazing to see them flourishing, especially when you pray for fertility. People look at me, like, ‘Really?’” Like Maimonides, Paz advocates the health benefits of these morsels – “the smaller, the better, as they are less bitter. I ferment them by soaking them in salt water for 10 days.”
Paz: ‘Wild foraging in the city is very much like creating a relationship with nature.’(photo credit: NECHAMA JACOBSON)
Paz: ‘Wild foraging in the city is very much like creating a relationship with nature.’(photo credit: NECHAMA JACOBSON)
In Israel, a land of religious significance, spirituality and nature often interlink.
“The Bible is the source of so much knowledge,” says Shachar. “I’m not a believer, but I recognize that there is a lot of wisdom.”
Indeed, the Bible exhibits a strikingly forward-thinking attitude in terms of agriculture and charity. Leviticus discusses the commandment of pe’ah, wherein people were instructed to “not pick your vineyard bare” and leave produce for the poor.
The agricultural sabbatical year, shmita, in which agricultural activity, with the exception of basic maintenance, is forbidden every seventh year, brings a smile to any forager’s face.
“The shmita year is the year for the foragers!” exclaims Shachar, insisting that he only gathers what he knows he is able to eat. This is observed by most in the foraging community, whose members are not hoarders by nature, picking only ripe produce in the quantities they can consume.
Paz ties everything together with the story of Honi the Circle Drawer from the Talmud.
Honi was a known miracle worker, particularly with regard to rain. While journeying, he saw an elderly man planting a carob tree and asked how long it would take the tree to grow.
“Seventy years,” the man replied, adding that when he entered the world, there were many carob trees. He wanted to ensure the same for future generations.
“What we plant today, in the wild, will be there for years to come,” says Paz.
Foragable goods might just be the greatest gift we could leave our grandchildren.
City Tree, an ecologically friendly communal house where Alon and Shachar reside, runs workshops on foraging and ecologically friendly household items and cosmetics. Keep in touch with them via Facebook.
Ronit’s blogs, www.pennilessparenting.com and www.foragingisrael.com, are a great gateway to foraging in Israel.
Paz is running a 10-day permaculture design course and urban farmer course at the end of October. Keep in touch with him via pazgarden@gmail.com or visit www.foodingardens.com.au for upcoming events.


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