For our Japanese visitors last week, foraging for spring greens is a very natural part of the reawakening that takes place after the long Hokkaido winter. The gathering of sansai (mountain vegetables) is an ancient tradition and one that, unlike here, is seemingly unbroken from its hunter gatherer origins. Indeed, sansai provided an important means of survival even up to the 19th century as the large population struggled in the face of wars, famines and earthquakes without well-developed agricultural systems. Wild foods are still a fundamental part of the Japanese diet with cultural importance.
Midori told us how one must be very careful foraging for sansai in the forest in early spring, which there comes in late April. When the brown bears awake they are hungry and grumpy after their long hibernation, leading to the dangerous combination of them being both confused and aggressive for food. Foragers wear bear bells to alert the animals to their presence and must keep one eye and ear on the surrounding undergrowth in case they should need to run. Not quite the relaxed and bucolic scene we might experience when gathering wild garlic in the woods here on a spring morning.
Both bears and humans are looking for young, bitter forest vegetables like Petasites japonica (flower buds), Aralia cordata (leaf shoots), Osmunda japonica (fiddleheads) and Caltha palustris var. barthei (stalks and leaves). Midori explained that bitterness is the key taste sought out in the first wild foods of the season, as it awakens both the palate – jaded after a winter of preserved food – and the body. Many of these plants have a cleansing and detoxifying effect (particularly on the liver) and have been used as herbal medicines for millennia.
Midori and Shintaro had not been here in spring before and were keen to try some of our British wild vegetables. Top of their list were nettles and wild garlic, which they had read so much about on Instagram. As we picked nettles together down by the stream last week I asked them whether they had nettles in Hokkaido. Midori said that there is a Japanese nettle, Urtica thunbergiana, and she though it was edible, but that she didn’t know anyone who foraged for it or ate it on Hokkaido. As we picked I pointed out the shield-shaped leaves of a plant I knew they would recognise, as we had eaten its roots together in the soba house at Tokachi many times before. At first Midori thought it was Petastites, but when she looked again she said, ‘No! Really? Burdock! Looks like a good place for it. Wet and soft soil will make it easy to harvest.’
That evening we ate pasta in a vibrant green sauce made from kale and wild garlic, while the following night I made a nettle risotto, both of which they savoured. They were intrigued by the novelty of new flavours, new sansai. There was the common feeling of the pleasure taken in eating free food gathered by ourselves from the local surroundings, but they also expressed a much deeper feeling, something more ancient and reverent. The knowledge that these foods appear at a time of the year when we and other creatures most need them, and that although delicious, they are primarily doing us good. The acknowledgement and appreciation of food as medicine and an understanding of the importance of our connection to natural cycles of growth and our surrounding ecosystems.
On their last evening, after several meals containing more dairy produce than they probably consume in a year, I decided to cook them something cleaner and more familiar. There were nettles left over from the risotto and I thought of one of my favourite Japanese dishes, first experienced at a little conveyor belt sushi place in Soho I used to frequent in the 1990’s; spinach rolls with sesame sauce. I thought to combine spinach with the nettles to make something of our two cultures, our shared interest in foraging, the place and the season. Sesame is goma in Japanese, and the sauce is delicious with any lightly cooked greens, and particularly good at the moment with purple sprouting broccoli.
The recipe calls for a robust spinach, baby spinach isn’t up to it. The late September sown spinach, ‘Monstrueux de Viroflay’, has done extremely well in the polytunnel over winter and is just giving its last big push, which we are trying to keep pace with. Also coming into their own now are the Japanese bunching onions, ‘Ishikura’, two rows of which I sowed in the polytunnel at the same time and which are used with wild garlic in the miso soup.
I took a long steel crowbar down to the stream to release a burdock root from the sticky, wet soil. This is much more difficult than it might seem. Burdock roots grow long, deep and straight, like salsify, to which they bear a strong resemblance in texture and taste, and which can be substituted in the recipe below if burdock eludes you. It takes some effort to loosen the earth around them enough to be able to pull out a sufficient length. They invariably get mangled or snap off as you try. Sheathed in a thick, coarse outer layer, once removed the core of the root is creamy white and crisp.
Burdock (Arctium minus or Arctium lappa, effectively interchangeable, the primary difference between them is that of height) is biennial and the roots should be harvested in either the first winter or second spring of their growth. Leave it any later than when they start flowering in June and they become tough and fibrous. The leaves of burdock are also edible, but are exceedingly bitter. If you feel brave and open to experiencing the invigorating cleansing effect the bitterness imparts then use only a small amount of the youngest, most tender leaves. Slice finely and soak in boiling water for 10 minutes before squeezing hard and adding to the soup. Alternatively use the gentler bitterness of turnip greens to give a comparable but more palatable effect.
For 2 people
250g spinach
250g nettle tops
2 teaspoons sesame seeds
Sauce
1 tablespoon white miso
1 tablespoon white tahini
1 tablespoon dashi stock or water
1 tablespoon mirin
Burdock Miso Soup
400ml dashi stock or water
3 tablespoons red miso
2 spring onions
150g silken tofu
4 wild garlic leaves
A 15cm length of burdock root
A small burdock leaf or some turnip greens
Bring a large pan of water to the boil. Fill the sink or a large bowl with ice cold water.
In a small pan toast the sesame seeds over a gentle heat until brown and fragrant. Leave to cool.
When the water is boiling take off the heat and blanch the spinach for 2 minutes, stirring gently to ensure all the leaves are equally cooked. Carefully remove from the pan with tongs and plunge into the cold water. Repeat the process with the nettles. Retain 4 of the best spinach leaves, then drain the spinach and nettles and squeeze out as much water as possible with your hands.
Carefully open out the reserved spinach leaves and lay them, overlapping, at the bottom of a sushi mat. Form the spinach and nettle mixture into a sausage on top of the spinach leaves. Roll the mat away from you, applying gentle pressure to compact the roll of greens and wrap it with the spinach leaves. Unroll the sushi mat and trim off the ragged ends of the roll with a very sharp knife. Cut into 6 equal lengths.
To make the sauce combine all the ingredients in a small bowl and stir until smooth. You may need to add a little water to achieve a pouring consistency.
Arrange 3 rolls in a pyramid on two small plates. Spoon half the sauce over each. Sprinkle each with toasted sesame seeds.
To make the soup bring the water or stock to a simmer. Slice the burdock root into thin rounds and cook in the stock for 3 to 4 minutes. Finely slice the wild garlic, spring onion (and burdock leaf, if using), roughly chop the tofu and divide all equally between two bowls. Put the miso into a small bowl and loosen with a couple of spoonfuls of hot stock taken from the saucepan. Pour the miso into the pan, stir briefly and immediately remove from the heat. Divide the hot miso soup equally between the two bowls.
Eat immediately.
Recipe & photographs: Huw Morgan
Published 23 March 2024
