Last year I got a cookbook for Christmas. This in itself is not a strange occurrence. What made this gift a little different was that it was a cookbook about foraging food: wild greens, weeds, bushes, berries, mushrooms. Back to my gatherer roots and all…
I’ve only ever been part of the foraging movement at upscale restaurants, where things such as salicorne (sea asparagus) and elderberries are key elements of plates. But here was a reputable book from the forager for Daniel Boulud’s eponymous NYC restaurant, championing the use of sheep sorrel and sumac. Now, I wasn’t about to go out and hunt around for these things. Goodness knows I can’t tell lambs quarters from any other weed, and as sustainable as dandelion is, it doesn’t mean I want to eat it.
But I read the book, because I’m turning into a gardener and things from the ground make me happy. It’s a simple reason and it’s an interesting book. The recipes aren’t too out there, even with the strange ingredients: risotto; shiso beef tenderloin skewers; grilled daylily roots with pine nuts, Parmesan, and balsamic vinegar; and wild barberry rice pudding.
And then I saw it.
On my own street in Montreal in August, bushes with bright red leaves and red clusters of…not berries. Something else. It looked an awful lot like sumac, I thought. Did I even know what sumac looked like, though? I’ve only ever seen it ground in spice shops, or mixed with thyme, sesame seeds, and olive oil as a dip in Middle Eastern restaurants. Because that’s where it comes from, I’d thought—the Middle East. Sumac isn’t in any North America cooking. Except, it is. Just not in any European-inspired North American cooking. Native Americans use it take make tea, or a kind of lemonade. The clusters are naturally tangy and fruity. So a little sweetener and some hot water are all you need. A cheesecloth or coffee filter helps, especially since it turns out bugs like to hide in the cones…but neither are absolutely essential. A sieve lined with a paper towel does in a pinch.
So I looked up at the bushes, and I looked left and right to make sure no one was watching me, and I gathered as many healthy, bright red clusters as I could. The trees aren’t supposed to be that tall, but I was pulling down branches to reach the healthiest clusters. It’s as though the leaves turn bright red so you’re forced to look at the tree and realize it has something wonderful on it you can eat. Evolutionary wonder.
I took my huge bag of sumac home, rinsed the dirt and pollens from the cones, and soaked them in hot water for about 4 hours. Then I sieved the liquid, sweetened it a little, and drank my lemonade while arranging the damp cones o a baking sheet. Into the oven they went at the lowest possible temperature with the door slightly ajar, to dehydrate into a powder. About 6 hours later, after a little rotating of the cones to make sure they dried evenly, I ground the sumac to a powder. Then I put my heaps of sumac powder into an air-tight jar and labeled it: “My Street Sumac” (I used the actual street name, though…).
I gave some to a chef friend, but I don’t think he understood the name. He didn’t ask if it was foraged, because who forages sumac?
Now I see the bushes everywhere in Montreal. Biking to Nun’s Island for a farmers market I saw even more sumac peppering the path. I picked a giant bag of it, avoiding oncoming bikers, but then somehow lost the bag from my bike basket while flying down the path. I was too laden with organic zucchini from the Nun’s Island Farmers Market, I guess, and someone or something out there decided I was being greedy, produce-wise.
Now, another thing to do with your sumac is to add it to a Middle Eastern pickle, like the one I made for Fine Dining Lovers with tarragon, but with a local twist. Or just use a very concentrated sumac-ade (like lemonade) as lemon juice. It’s a diuretic, so it’s good for cleansing the body gently, much like lemon but, again, local.
Middle Eastern Spiced Eggplant Pickle with Sumac
Makes four 500mL jars
3 lb Japanese eggplant, peeled and cut in ½-inch cubes
5 cups apple cider vinegar
2 tbsp Kosher salt, divided
1 tsp ground turmeric
1 tsp dried thyme
3 tbsp chopped garlic
2 tbsp dried sumac
1/4 cup finely chopped parsley
Sterilize canning jars and rings by boiling them in a large canning pot of water for 10 minutes. Turn off heat and keep pot covered and hot until needed.
Toss eggplant with 1 tbsp salt in a large bowl. Transfer to colander, cover with paper towel, and let drain 30 minutes. Rinse eggplant in cold water, drain, and dry well.
Bring vinegar to a boil in a large saucepan. Add eggplant and simmer 3 minutes. Remove eggplant with slotted spoon to a large bowl, reserving the vinegar. Combine eggplant with remaining 1 tbsp salt and the rest of the ingredients.
Soften 4 jar lids in hot, but not boiling, water for 5 minutes.
Remove jars from water and pack with eggplant mixture. Bring vinegar back to a boil and pour over eggplant to ½-inch from the top of the jars.
Remove air bubbles with a chopstick or other non-metallic, long, thin utensil. Add more vinegar, if necessary, to return liquid to ½-inch from the top. Wipe rims, apply softened lids, and process in a water bath canner for 15 minutes, starting the timer when the water returns to a boil. Remove from canner and let cool.
Store in a cool, dark place for up to 1 year. Refrigerate after opening.
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