Chicken of the woods

 I only but recently made a really welcome discovery. Long story short, that funghus in the picture is Laetiporous Sulphureus (chicken of the woods, in German Schwefelporling). It is a delicacy that tastes and feels a lot like chicken meat, so much in fact that I can really recommend it for anyone looking for a meat substitute. It grows in large quantities, and as with many other funghi, grows more abundant with the forest problems due to climate change. It grows in brackets up to 45 kg in weight. It can be dried and frozen and then keeps over long periods of time. It is reputed to have antibacterial properties. It can be used as a natural dye, too. I found mine in early summer, and dried some for my stock.

Short story long, I learned about it first... well, in a situation that might be called one of those Fimbulmyrk stories. 

First things first, I have that appointment with the local hunters, the bureau of forestry affairs and the landowner that I virtually can do anything I like (as long as it doesn't involve fire or any silly stunt such like in the local woods, an appointment I very much honour, respect and like, because, well, I would be in a bedlam if I could not sit in the woods the way I do. Deal is that I have a bit of a lookout after those woods precious to my heart, too, which I find self - evident. 

Now I was on a bimble, when I smelled something I do not want to smell at any time in the woods. 

Smoke. 

Looking around, I saw it rising from a thicket nearby. Actually I felt a bit relieved when I saw three people near it. 

Now, well, actually I think while not everyone should be permitted to have a fire in the woods, I also very much understand why someone would want one. And it is not the same if some ghetto kid sets the whole area on fire or an experienced woodsman makes her or himself a brew. Well, living in a shithole of a city, if you can even call it a city still, I very much had my fill of ghetto kids, and will bear the scars of telling some of them off all the rest of my life (they had to bear the consequences, too, of course, but I still do not like that), so I was less than enthused. 

Getting near the fire stealthily, but also trying not to look too threatening, but keeping my Shillelagh at the ready, I realized it was some elderly guy and two little girls. 

They had a pan sat on the small cooking fire, which was built very cunningly to be small but effective, and there was sort of a stew simmering away. 

I introduced myself, and it turned out they were Ukrainian refugees, two kids with their grandpa. They simply did not know it was prohibited in Germany to light a fire in the woods. With a lot of gestures, a translation App and more smiles and respect we agreed that they finished their cooking and then extinguished the fire. I agreed not to call anyone. 

Actually, we got into a really nice, if somewhat complicated conversation. It turned out the old fella was a very experienced woodsman (who sorely missed his home forest). The only German sentence he knew was "Ich kenne Pilze sehr" (I know mushrooms very), and I personally think someone with these priorities cannot be that bad a character. It also transpired that he simply forgot to bring salt and spice. Well, I was on my way to the old man (Fritz) and had a truckload of wild garlic in my backpack, and there were ground elder and ground ivy growing abundantly in the vicinity. I also had made a cutting board from elm just before the encounter, which I gifted to them.

It all ended that I made a spoon for myself and we all sat around the pan enjoying a delicious mushroom stew together.

I whittled some fast gypsy flowers and a heart for the girls, and they went arse over tit out of joy for it. We extinguished the fire together. When we parted, we hugged, even though we will most likely never meet again, as friends.

Message, by the way.

And that is the story of a new bit of knowledge I learned. Chicken of the woods. Tasted delicious, even without salt.

Next message, by the way. ☺️ 🤣 You might be able to find out yourselves. 

NOMMM? - OMNOMNOMMNOMM!!!! - my apothecary and treasure vault

 Foraged for boletus and mugwort, and lesser plantain,and sage, lavender, marjoram, willow-herb and the like. The ´shrooms were eaten and dried (no secrets), and from the lesser plantain (plantago lanceolata, in German: Spitzwegerich) I made some syrup concoction.

First I chopped the leaves and blossoms coarsely. I added as much honey as was needed to completely cover the leaves entirely, one shot of citric acid and 2 cl of a special liqueur (mainly consisting of spruce hips, honey, lemon juice, sage, thyme, and brandy.

Now I will leave it to rest for some three days in the sun, then six weeks in the dark.

Left to right: Lavender, sage, and marjoram stored to dry.

Left to right: St. John´s wort, common yarrow, willow - herb to dry, willow herb in a cotton bag to ferment, tussilago farfara (coughwort), chamomile,

....lady´s mantle, sage, common yarrow. In the jar there´s wild garlic oil. The herbs are, for the most part, already dried, and await to be put away in tins and boxes.

Great weekend with the loveliest person in my life;-)-Drink, Food, Foraging and falling severely in love;-)

It was a visiting-a-certain-city weekend, and I took the train to Marburg on Saturday morning. Turns out the train would not go and I was trapped on hagen Hauptbahnhof for some hours. I am currently developing a dislike towards the national railroad company... not for the constant arriving late of trains and persons, not even for me getting nicked for fare-dodging because of a misinformation by sales staff personal (I cannot prove, obviously, for who always has a lawyer by his side?), but for the general atmosphere of "if you don´t like it, go by car" and "whadayawantfucker" (quotation of one staff person when I asked why those trains are constantly arriving late and why I should tolerate either constantly missing important deadlines or taking two trains earlier (meaning two hours travel time for a distance I can cover in 1,5 h by bike). Rant over and out, but I was eager to get to Marburg and was kept two hours. I arrived in Marburg after the obligatory odyssey with out-of schedule halts and other adventures I could easily do without;-). But, rant over and out, I was bound for Marburg, a lovely city and the place of the loveliest person in m life, and all was good. I arrived late, and we met at the pub for a Guiness and some great food Mrs Mondjung and the Moon Virgin had prepared. It was food and drink and good music and an extraterrestrially great evening.

It was late night when we went home, and the stars were out. The next day was nice, albeit not a sunny one, exactly, but the magic troll took her BIG knife and she meant business, so we went out foraging...

And on our way we came across this sculpture someone had made at the trailside with a chainsaw-out of the stump of a tree! Love it.

Over old hills and far away...

NOMM?

NOMM?

The magic troll with a BIG knife and a TINY ´shroom... seems to be the order... big knives and tiny ´shrooms, A! A! A! *ggg*

We came across this orchid, a Cephalantera.

And this is veronica officinalis, in German: Ehrenpreis if I am not entirely mistaken...

This is not Veronica *ggg* but a magic troll.

Delicious snails on the way X-D...

We collected quite an armful of mugwort (artemisia vulgaris). The magic troll uses this for dyeing wool and garments alike. Here she gives a perfect impression of a ghetto kid...*ggg*

We also took a look at some zombie mutant chamomile but left it be, for it had some really strange mutations... talk about growth hormones and the like... I could fit in a book full of rants now, but will leave that to another post.... the scenery was great, however.

The sun was sinking, and added some dramatics to the atmosphere;-).

Bug porn;-).

Roman chamomile.

The next day was a patio day, and I was really impressed by the magic troll´s knack for the green stuff. She grows beans, tomatos, pumpkin and a load of herbs on a very limited space, and she manages to incorporate beauty and functionality in a manner that is very subtle.

 We had a very cozy weekend, and, what can I say - I am over the top, and I simply love her. She is completely nuts;-), but so am I. I am glad to have met her. Period.*ggg* 

No, not a foraging ride at all.... NOT AT ALL, I SAID!!!!:-)

 On Tuesday I was not going out foraging at all. I needed a break from all those ´shrooms and herbs and fruit and especially those mad apples, so I just rode a swimming pool till my arms fell off and then rode some more. Now street and stunt riding certainly is good fun, but I need some scenery or else I go mad like a hamster in a tripwheel, so I simply thought, hey, it´s the Felsengarten, and there´s salvia, so, come on, take some salvia with you, where´s the harm. Then I made for the hills, and loved it. This is a spoil of Annwfn*g, a fly agaric. No, I DID NOT eat it*ggg*, I just loved the colour.

 Fireroad to the hilltops, arduous climbing, but it simply felt good to get good and a sweaty mess with hurting legs and all... did I say hurting legs? Maybe not so ideal*ggg* or great.*ggg* or not? Depends on who you ask, if you ask me*g. Note the artful use of virtual emotional icons, I have finally mastered*ggg*.
Where was I? Oh, there, on that fireroad, and maybe I am still, moving and cranking up that steep slope with the birds singing all along and getting in a state of mind I can rant on intelligently for ages, but you would not be able to feel it any. I was just being. It simply feels great, it is just a feeling of onenness, even transcendence. One reason for me riding since 26 years.

 Then everything went awry, for I met this little fellow and had to take him home...

 I cut him with this knife, which is my EDC kopis. Liekki, this is the world, the world, this is Liekki*ggg*. Zwissler "monster" damascus, leather handle, 95 mm of trustworthy steel. I simply love it. I use it hard for three years now, and have never sharpened it aside from redoing the bevel once, but that was to achieve another geometry, not out of pure necessity. I whittled and carved with it, batoned it through hard knotted wood, peeled apples (there they are again AGAIN!!!!!), even pryed and digged out roots with it, and it always comes back begging for more. It drives away my malevolent spirits and soothed my sleep. Thank you, thing.*ggg*.

 Detail on the pattern.

 Then it was this one.

 And I wasn´t going to forage today. No, really, I wasn´t.

 Passed by the lake...

Yew berries. I love the fact that they taste sweet, but if you make but one mistake you are nicked big style: They are TOXIC, so do not eat them. In ancient times, the yew was a symbol of sorcery, of magic, and of the otherworld. Of winter, of endurance, and of death, and of life. There are theories as to why many European divinational systems (runes) were carved on Yew. I am fascinated by the tree, and by the wood. It has always been a metaphor for poetry for me, too, and a guardian spirit. Near the house in which I grew up there grew a yew, and it did do (okay, I could not resist the rhyme, myne is the pity*ggg)*) a lot for the atmosphere of my old home. Of protection, endurance, and coziness.

But my life was long done with protection or coziness. I came home pensive, but deeply contented. It simply was a good day, and I can enjoy this life ever so much more again. Life is good.