Berries to Butternuts

Sumac bushes with red berry clusters. These look beautiful, but it turns out they weren't ripe yet.

I hoped to find a thicket of plum trees that afternoon. I'd found the trees in flower on a rainy-day hike in the spring, and I wanted to see whether they were now bearing fruit. Although my expedition wasn't successful in the way I'd hoped, it turned out to be successful in ways I would never have imagined.

Red, ripe raspberries. A treat!

Mystery nuts.

My good luck began with a ripe raspberry here and there along the trail. I also spied many green, unripe blackberries and filed the information away for later. I even found three blueberries (I don't think of collecting blueberries until closer to August). When I got to the knoll where I'd seen the putative plum trees, alas, I didn't find any fruit hanging from their branches. I did notice some green nuts scattered about the ground. I couldn't find the tree they'd come from, and I'm not entirely sure what kind of nut they were. My best guess at the moment is some kind of hickory nut (I didn't see any shagbark hickories, whose peeling bark is quite distinctive, and I don't think I'd be able to recognize any other kinds).

Unripe blackberries.

 I turned back down the trail after the plumless knoll and the mystery nuts, and after at time I came to a spot where a variety of berries were growing in the middle of the trail, so that the trail split like a momentarily divided highway. Somehow, I hadn't noticed the berries on my hike in. Some were unripe blackberries, some were ripe red raspberries, and the rest resembled blackberries except that they had a significant white bloom and were fuzzier, like raspberries.

These look moldy, but they aren't! This is the
handful of bloom-covered berries I brought home
for my kids. These have even been rinsed.

I had just seen the same type of berry on a different trail, where the white bloom made me think the first berry I'd seen was moldy. Then I'd noticed that all the black berries (although not the unripe red ones) had this bloom and that the stems were coated in white as well. So it probably wasn't mold. I next wondered whether someone had sprayed a pesticide here (which seemed unlikely, given that I was on conservation land), but when I picked a berry, I found that the inside (which of course would not have been exposed during any chemical spraying) was also coated in fuzzy whiteness. When I now found the same berries on a different trail, I concluded that the white bloom must be a natural feature of the berry. Because all the raspberry- and blackberry-like berries are edible, I tasted one. It was delicious -- significantly sweeter than a blackberry or raspberry. I collected a handful (I only had a small snack cup that hadn't made it back inside from my car) to share with my kids when I got home and decided to take the kids berry picking the next day.

I took my two youngest boys back
to pick black raspberries the next day.
We even found a few ripe blackberries!

Incidentally, I've now decided that these bloom-covered berries are most likely black raspberries. At first I thought they might be dewberries, but the stems were green, not red. When I read a description of the black raspberry plant, I learned that, although stems on older plants are red, those of newer plants are green with a white bloom. The book didn't mention a bloom on the berries, but I'm guessing black raspberries nonetheless. My source mentioned that many people think black raspberries are the tastiest of all the berries in the blackberry-raspberry family, and I am definitely throwing my vote in the same direction.

These nuts were hanging right into the trail.

After several minutes of berry picking, it caught my attention that some branches were practically hitting me in the face (no, I am not the world's most observant person, mainly because I can become completely absorbed in a single activity to the point that I can hear or see nothing outside of that activity). I then noticed some strange fruits hanging from the branches, which were bent significantly over the trail. Actually, the branch was so much of an obstacle that I must have had to duck to get by on my hike in; the top of the tree had been practically severed and was hanging upside down across the path. How I had managed to pass this spot on my way in without noticing the fruits was beyond me. In fact, I began to wonder whether I had somehow taken a wrong turn on the way back, but a short amount of backtracking confirmed that I'd come the right way (I saw a pair of striking orange mushrooms that I was sure I'd seen before). I went back to examine the tree and fruits, which I now decided were nuts (I took one home and cracked it open, and although it clearly wasn't ripe yet, I was able to confirm this identification).

Nuts in hand.

Most plant-identification guides show pictures of flowers and ripe fruit, not unripe fruit, and I didn't recognize this small nut. But, as I looked at the leaves, I saw that they resembled walnut leaves except that the terminal leaflet was well developed. The leaves were a little straggly looking, probably because most of the trunk was severed (it was amazing that the tree was producing fruit at all), but I glanced up at the branches stemming from the intact portion of the trunk and still thought the leaves looked similar to walnut leaves. I looked at the bark, which had interesting, textured grooves. A possibility began to dawn on me. Could this be butternut? I hardly dared to hope as I looked back at the nuts. They were the shape of small footballs. Very small footballs, but footballs nonetheless. They had four lightly discernible ridges running lengthwise. I imagined the nuts getting bigger, darkening a bit ... and looking pretty much exactly like a butternut.

Bark of the nut tree.

I was beginning to believe that I might really have found this nut, which has been evading me for a year now. The first time I found a walnut tree (at our town playground), I thought it was a butternut, even after I'd tasted it. I had not managed to get the nut out of its shell intact, so its walnut shape was lost. Additionally, walnuts apparently need to age to develop their flavor, so a newly picked or fallen nut tastes considerably different -- and worse -- than an older nut. I could not reconcile the taste of this supposed butternut with Samuel Thayer's description in The Forager's Harvest (see my list of recommended reading). He writes: "Butternuts that have had the hulls peeled while green are a delicacy. Their sweet flavor hints at bananas and vanilla ice cream, and they are very soft."

The nut tree had been practically severed
at the top.

When I finally figured out that I'd found a walnut tree rather than a butternut tree, I was sorely disappointed. Afterall, I can buy walnuts in the store, and I'm not even a big walnut fan (as a side note, I have now tried properly aged wild walnuts, and they do taste significantly better than the cultivated kind available for purchase). I have been searching for the butternut tree ever since. So to think that I might finally have found one (nevermind that it had to practically hit me in the face before I noticed it) -- well, I was so excited that I began talking to myself. (Should I admit this? I talk to myself. My mother does it too; I used to think she was crazy, but now that such a belief would require me to admit that I'm crazy, too, I've dropped the charge).

Walnuts high up in the tree.

I pocketed a nut and headed back to my car. On my way home, I stopped by the playground to see how the walnut trees were doing. The nuts were considerably larger than the possible butternuts were. That gave me pause. The two trees are relatives; do their nuts develop at the same time and pace? The playground trees have ample sunlight, whereas the maybe-butternut tree was in the shady woods. Could that make a difference? Well, I'll keep an eye on my tree and let you know how it turns out. I'm still cautiously excited. (Post-publication note: it wasn't a butternut tree; see my next post.)

Sumac flowers.

After hitting the playground, I stopped by my favorite parking lot to check on the sumac and milkweed. The sumac is still in flower and hasn't made berries yet. Most of the sumac I've seen is still in flower, but last week I did find some bushes with bright red berries. The color looked perfect, but when I sucked on a berry (you can't eat them -- they're too hard to chew), it didn't have any flavor. I'm not sure why -- I guess it was just wishful thinking -- but I collected eight berry heads anyway and tried to make some sumac-ade with them. We made many pitchers of this refreshing, tart

Sumac berries.

drink last summer. Unsurprisingly, the flavor wasn't good; my husband described it as kind of like treebark-flavored water. Next time I'll be sure to put more stock in the taste test (I'm not sure why I conducted a taste test if I wasn't going to take its results into account).

Milkweed plant with small, immature pods
(look in the center of the photograph).

Although it will be a while yet before I'm collecting sumac from that parking lot, several of the milkweed plants had small, immature pods, at the perfect stage for collecting. I'd never tried a milkweed pod before, but I have enjoyed milkweed shoots and flower-bud clusters, and so I was looking forward to trying the pods. Interestingly, although there are a lot of milkweed plants around this parking lot, only those plants in one particular place had pods yet. I collected enough for everyone to have a small serving at dinner. Then I picked a bagful of day lilies and headed home to try a recipe for salmon-stuffed day lilies. The flowers, stuffing, and boiled milkweed pods (which tasted like the other milkweed parts except for the soft pre-silk inside, which was creamy and vaguely cheesy) were enjoyed by everyone except my oldest son, who didn't like much of anything that day and whose opinions should therefore be discounted.

Black locust leaves?

A few other recent adventures are worth sharing. Back in May I found some trees with deeply furrowed bark -- so unusually furrowed that I wanted to know what kind of trees they were (see my May 23 post). I passed the same trees on my way to the black raspberries, and now that the leaves are out, I'm thinking these might be black locusts. Black locust trees are considered invasive in Massachusetts, so it should be easy to find one -- except that it hasn't been. I've been looking for them because their flowers are supposed to be beautiful, delightfully scented, and delicious (one book recommends black-locust fritters). Although black locusts might ordinarily blossom in early July, all the rain and warm weather has accelerated things this year, so I'm guessing the flowers have come and gone. I'll keep an eye on these trees next year to see whether my identification is correct.

Unripe serviceberries?

Another tentative identification this week was what I'm hoping turns out to be a serviceberry bush (also known as shadbush or juneberry). The fruits reportedly have a delicious pear-like flavor. They resemble blueberries or miniature apples and, like those two fruits, have a crown on the bottom. The ripe berries range from reddish purple to blue, purple, and black. I saw the berries and took a picture, then made this tentative identification at home, so I'll have to go back to the bush with my plant guides to be sure.

Unripe riverside grapes.

One final discovery I'll mention from the past week are riverside grapes. A friend used to have trees covered in grape vines, and she always lamented how the animals seemed to take all the grapes before the people could get any. So I'm only tentatively excited to see the developing grapes, but I do hope some will still be around for picking in the fall. I've noticed a number of grape vines in various places during my explorations.

So, no plum trees, but plenty of other exciting discoveries this week!

Photo Gallery

Here are some more pictures from the week.

I think this is false Solomon's seal, but I didn't dig up the root to find out. The roots are edible, but they don't sound very tasty. The best thing Samuel Thayer has to say about them is that "Solomon's seal rhizomes would at least be a good source of calories for someone lost in the woods." The shoots, on the other hand, reportedly make a good vegetable. The berries, which turn bright red when they ripen in the fall, are sweet like molasses but have a strong acrid aftertaste. Thayer says the berries are edible, but I should note that another author, Teresa Marrone in Wild Berries & Fruits, says they are inedible. I tend to thoroughly trust Thayer, however. The level of detail and personal verification of facts in his books is convincing.

Milkweed pods boiling for dinner.

The underside of riverside grape leaves is considerably lighter than the top. The young leaves (when shiny and a bit reddish) make a good wrap for rice stuffing, and a friend of mine recently sauteed the leaves to reportedly delicious effect.

The terminal leaflet in this walnut leaf is missing; a butternut leaf would have a well-developed terminal leaflet.

Close-up picture of two walnuts from one of the many walnut trees surrounding our local playground.

Indian cucumber with unripe, green berries. There are two berries, so this plant is two years old. The berries are inedible, but they turn blue when they are ripe. (The root is edible and tasty; see my February 21 and May 31 posts for more about Indian cucumbers.)

The deeply furrowed bark of what I hope is a black locust tree.