There are hundreds of different types of Sumac ( Rhus spp. ) growing all over the world. Sumac produces aromatic sour fruit that can be used to flavour just about anything. I have it on good authority it's one of the vague “herbs and spices” in Arnott's Pizza Shapes! The sumac berries are actually tiny drupes [stone fruits], packed together in a cluster. We even have a native Australian Sumac, Rhus taitensis , that grows in northern Queensland. This doesn't taste especially

Seasoned foragers all have a list. It's the things we’re quietly obsessed with finding, but haven't managed to track down yet. Black walnuts have been on the top of my list for a while. We research it. We beg other foragers to spill their secret spots. We slam on the brakes if we think we’ve spotted it from the car. For many foragers, their bucket list items are so notoriously scarce they go to extreme measures! One of my foraging friends even went so far as to dig through 1

The most famous fig forager is probably Jesus. He cursed a fig tree because it didn't have any fruit. Can't blame him, I'm also mad when there's no figs. It's meant to be a metaphor about people living empty lives, but maybe Jesus also had a hankering for something yum? Figs seem weirdly overrepresented in religious lore. The Buddha reached enlightenment while sitting under a fig tree. Adam and Eve used fig leaves to hide their bums. Islamic teachings say figs are good for c

Any plant with 'stinging' in its name sounds like a menace. Stinging nettles are so damn delicious that, faced with constant threat of being eaten, they evolved little hairy hypodermic needles to deter you. I gotta give nettles some kudos. They're badasses, with a reputation for violence. They know what they want, and they don't want to be eaten. Don't let this frighten you. Their bark is worse than their bite—while yes, they prickle, they're nowhere near as bad as all the

Elderflowers whisk me away to an English summer. Elder trees humming with bees, blooming with little fluffy clouds, haunted by faerie folk. In Germanic folklore, guardian spirits dwelled in these trees, so when you gather their blossoms, you might be taking home something enchanted. Danish legend tells of a mystical sight on Midsummer’s Eve, a night where the veil between worlds wears thin. Stand beneath an elder tree, and you might see Elverkongen, the King of Fairyland, ri

On an ancient Middle Eastern battlefield, the Seleucid army is lining up its most fearsome weapons: war elephants. But before the battle, the elephants' breakfast of mulberries was spiked with booze, to get them ready for battle. Historians debate whether this was to calm their nerves or spur on a fighting mood, but you can only imagine the scene of tipsy elephants leading the charge, probably far more interested in eating more mulberries than following orders. Mulberry indu

I'm easily seduced by the promise of a ripe loquat. Around Melbourne, there is an absolute abundance of them. It's a lush tropical fruit; tasting like a super juicy pineapple-apricot-lemon. But even if slightly underripe, PWAaaH!, they're unpleasantly sour. You'll never find them at the supermarket, probably because of their short shelf life. But foraging is more fun than shopping anyway. Kids, go outside and get some sunshine! If you haven't noticed them before, you'll not

Dandelions are so nostalgic. I have childhood memories of closing my eyes and whispering a wish before blowing a cloud of dandelion seeds spinning into the air. If I cleared the puffball in one breath, it was a sign my wish would be granted. During school recess, the flowers would be woven into crowns or gathered into a tiny posy. People consider them weeds, but why? Europeans brought dandelions intentionally to Australia in the early 1800s, not as a useless weed, but as a

In Melbourne, olives are the street kids of forageable trees. Shout out to all the post-WWII Italian and Greek migrants who planted them along the nature strip. Melbourne’s olive streets have been established since the 1950s. Urban olive foraging = honouring legacy plantings + sustainable food. Don’t pick from busy roads—you wanna stick to the backstreets. Car exhaust is not your friend; it tastes like cancer and is just as unhealthy. So go on a little adventure to find the

Congratulations, you’ve just been served—by the little lawyers of the mushroom world. Clusters of Coprinus comatus,  known as Lawyer’s Wigs, love to congregate in passerby places: roadside ditches, the local dog park, and beside graffiti tagged bus shelters. These mushies work pro bono—popping up freely among grassy areas. No need for day-long foraging expeditions; just grab a shopping bag and take a stroll around the block. The flavour of Lawyer’s Wigs is delicately mild,

My poor friends put up with my seasonal personality disorder. The summer version of me hosts cocktail parties and spends afternoons sprawled on the beach. But by mid-autumn, my inner mushroom nerd is fully unmasked. I'll try to recruit everyone for expeditions to what's affectionately dubbed the ' fuck no forest'—Ivan Milat’s picnic spot of no return. It’s a leech-infested damp pit. Turn left and you'll be threatened with rusty “no trespassing” warning signs, turn right and y

Foraging is all about being in step with the earth, following the seasons. Summer sunshine, autumn rain, winter rebirth, spring flourishing. You discover the beauty of impermanence—that nothing stays forever, but everything finds its way back. In Autumn, a forage begins with a hot cup of tea and a twilight adventure. Reaching grassy hills as dawn breaks, soothing waves of green fading into the distance. The sky takes on an otherworldly hue, and mist settles in valleys below.

I snacked on bushfood as a kid. But my full-immersion-fire-baptism into foraging was all via mushrooms. Years ago, I found some little brown mushrooms growing in my backyard—caramel brown, with a nippled top. I was worried they looked similar to some hallucinagenic mushrooms I’d seen on a 60 Minutes exposé. Somehow the stars aligned and I stumbled exactly where I needed to be: a mushroom ID group on Facebook. The group’s mycologist admin hit me with a mouthful of a taxonomica

Once upon a time, Ginkgo was a dinosau r booby trap. Their seeds, stinking like vomit, lured ancient scavengers by mimicking the smell of a rotting dinosaur carcass. After a bite, the dinosaurs realised they’d been punked, spat out their snack, and unwittingly spread the seed. Trees in the Ginkgo family have existed for more than 300 million years . Ginkgo biloba is the only species left in its entire family of trees. The leaves look unmistakable. Each leaf is fan-shaped, of

When I was young, the meth house across the street caught fire, leaving it cordoned off by a police fence. Spotting a tight gap in the fence, but next to a huge prickly pear, I thought, Why not? Let's go tamper with some evidence. Squeezing through, I underestimated the cactus' fine hair prickles. The meth lab itself was a letdown—just a charred shell with nothing interesting inside. Karma later struck, and the true struggle began at home, where prickles invaded my bed, clo

Despite the name, the Strawberry Tree ( Arbutus unedo ) has nothing to do with strawberries. The only thing they have in common is red coloured fruit. It's not the only plant trying to pass off a fake ID. Pineapples aren't apples, coconuts aren't nuts, and raspberries aren't true berries. Back in the olden days, plants were sometimes named based on their appearance rather than botanical relationships. Chances are, you might not have ever heard of a Strawberry Tree, let alone

Do trees like to be touched? I can't tell if they're into it, but I’m definitely the weirdo in the forest who can’t keep their hands to themselves. I lay my hands on their trunks, as if trying to absorb their stories and energy. If trees could talk, would they call me a groper? Probably. But can you blame me? There’s just something so magnetic as you press your hands into the texture of their bark. Bunya Bunya (also known as the Bunya Pine, Araucaria bidwillii ) has rough te

Lilly Pillies are just about everywhere! You'll find mighty bush trees in NSW and QLD that seem to fruit all year round. But in Victoria they're an urban forager's delight. Households grow them as hedges to keep the peeping toms from looking in. Councils love planting them everywhere; you'll even spot a massive tree behind the public toilets in Reservoir. I’m not sure how close is too close when it comes to foraging next to a public dunny, but I’m willing to push those bounda

Blackberry season makes me think of winding country paths, baskets overflowing with ripe berries, and fingertips stained dark lilac. But really, blackberries are usually thorny tangled messes with unpredictable berry quality. You’ll find yourself reconsidering picking them with the odd council issued warning, perhaps thumbtacked to a nearby tree: “ Do not eat these berries. We poisoned them. ” Only once I noticed that someone had followed through, a rare instance of unmistak

If you’ve ever wandered near a creek and caught a whiff of onion, congratulations—you’ve met onion weed (also known as three cornered garlic, Allium triquetrum ). It doesn’t hide, flaunting its dainty white flowers. Come spring, it lines creeks and rivers like a floral runner, as if setting the stage for a magical woodland ceremony; a secret runway for forest nymphs. While pretty, the onion stench excludes them from a bouquet. My parents wage constant war against the stuff