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“Once a year the Hattifatteners collect there before setting out again on their endless foraging expedition round the world. They come from all points of the compass, silent and serious with their small, white empty faces, and why they hold this yearly meeting it is difficult to say, as they can neither hear nor speak, and have no object in life but the distant goal of their journey's end. Perhaps they like to have a place where they feel at home and can rest a little and meet friends.”
― Tove Jansson, Finn Family Moomintroll

“15. Hence a wise general makes a point of foraging on the enemy. One cartload of the enemy's provisions is equivalent to twenty of one's own, and likewise a single picul of his provender is equivalent to twenty from one's own store.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

“Witchcraft is, I believe, the practice of entering into relation with the world, of exerting your will in it and among it, and learning how to work with it in ways that are fruitful for yourself and the world.”
― Alice Tarbuck, A Spell in the Wild: A Year (and Six Centuries) of Magic

“We navigate the produce stands, plucking palms full of cherries from every pile we pass, chewing them and spitting the seeds on the ground. We eat tiny tomatoes with taut skins that snap under gentle pressure, releasing the rabid energy of the Sardinian sun trapped inside. We crack asparagus like twigs and watch the stalks weep chlorophyll tears. We attack anything and everything that grows on trees- oranges, plums, apricots, peaches- leaving pits and peels, seeds and skins in our wake. Downstairs in the seafood section, the heart of the market, the pace quickens. Roberto turns the market into a roving raw seafood bar, passing me pieces of marine life at every stand: brawny, tight-lipped mussels; juicy clams on the half shell with a shocking burst of sweetness; tiny raw shrimp with beads of blue coral clinging to their bodies like gaudy jewelry. We place dominoes of ruby tuna flesh on our tongues like communion wafers, the final act in this sacred procession.”
― Matt Goulding, Pasta, Pane, Vino: Deep Travels Through Italy's Food Culture

“Thick boughs of white oak shaded the ground, sheltering riches of sage, red clover, sometimes mushrooms. Harriet breathed in the scents of the fecund earth as she crouched beside a patch of nettles to begin her morning's work.
It was a good day for her labors. She found a lovely bit of mugwort beside the nettles, and deeper in the woods she spotted burdock, which could be elusive. There was amaranth, too, the herb the shepherds called pigweed.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Hunter-gathers, by nature, store information for use, understanding that there may be a time when information is scarce.”
― Brian C. O'Connor, Jud H. Copeland, Jodi L. Kearns

“Chikako and Ben's lives are inexorably linked linked to an ever-expanding list of seasonal tasks. In summer, they work through the garden bounty, drying and pickling the fruits and vegetables at peak ripeness. Fall brings chestnuts to pick, chili paste to make, mushrooms to hunt. Come winter, Noto's seas are flush with the finest sea creatures, which means pickling fish for hinezushi and salting squid guts for ishiri. In the spring, after picking mountain vegetables and harvesting seaweed, they plant the garden and begin the cycle that will feed them, their family, and their guests in the year ahead.”
― Matt Goulding, Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture

“To me, the forest is simply green and vast, but Huia knows exactly what she's looking for and points things out from a distance. But slowly I learn. I distinguish devil's club and stinging nettles and salmonberry. I spot the hummingbirds that dart and quiver around pink flowers. I spy a patch of fiddleheads and start plucking before Huia warns me to take only a few so the plant can keep growing for next season. I am the student.
The fiddleheads are aptly named, shaped just like the top of a violin, and soon Huia declares her basket "full enough" of them. We dawdle through the forest, aimlessly it seems to me, though she appears to know exactly where she is, pausing every now and then to watch birds and pick flowers. We sit on a log that's sprouting soft, hopeful ferns, a "nurse log," Huia calls it, and I show her how to make a crown of daisies. She gets me to make the slits in the stems with my nails and then weaves one for me too.”
― Hannah Tunnicliffe, Season of Salt and Honey

“This sudden sweet loot appearing, I felt like we were tricking the world—living in urban loopholes.”
― Aspen Matis, Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir

“By the time they had reached the woods, it was starting to get light. She led him to where, in the long, lush grass at the edge of the trees, a darker green circle twenty feet across stained the lighter green of the pasture.
"Gambe secche. A fairy ring. This one is quite old---it gets a little bigger each year as the mycelium spreads out."
"It's edible?"
"No, but once the fairy ring's established, the prugnolo comes and shares the circle." As she spoke, she was rummaging in the wet grass, pushing it apart gently with her fingers. "See? This is the prugnolo---what the people here call San Giorgio."
"Why's that?"
"Because it first appears on the feast day of San Giorgio, of course." She twisted the mushroom deftly off its stalk and put it into her basket. "There'll be more, if you take a look.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“The flavour of cabbage is seldom welcome in a dessert”
― John Wright, The Forager's Calendar: A Seasonal Guide to Nature’s Wild Harvests

“The crystalline currents of the river Karkheh flowed to the west of Susa, irrigating the thirsty city. It was said to have the purest water in the world. For that reason, no one was allowed to drink from its waters but the king.
Roxannah's favorite place was the river's fertile banks, which provided endless treasures for anyone patient enough to search for them. Here, she foraged for wild ingredients that had the advantage of being free as well as delicious resources for the new recipes she loved to create.
Walking by the river's banks at sunrise, Roxannah came across a cluster of wild, twisty fig trees. It was early for the first harvest. But a few handfuls of precocious fruit had ripened enough to be picked.
At home, she snipped the stems and washed the figs before letting them simmer with honey, adding a touch of her special blend of spices. They would taste delicious with the creamy yogurt she had made the day before.”
― Tessa Afshar, The Queen's Cook