The Taste of Spring: Foraging with All Our Senses

As the days stretch longer and warmth stirs the earth, spring’s earliest growth bursts forth—delicate yet resilient. The hedgerows, woodlands, and meadows awaken with plants that, at first glance, can often seem almost indistinguishable. It is in this season that we are reminded of the importance of slowing down, observing, and using all our senses to truly know the plants around us.

Pete Compston

Modern life is dominated by screens and artificial environments, subtly stripping us of our natural awareness. But step into a spring woodland, and your senses begin to recalibrate—attuning to subtleties that would otherwise go unnoticed: the minute hazel flowers, like tiny red stars twinkling among bare branches, that not many other than a forager paying close attention might even see.

Yet sight alone is not enough. Many plants resemble one another in their early stages, only developing their defining characteristics over time. For the forager, touch, taste (where safe), and smell are just as crucial—senses that, for much of human history, were relied upon to navigate the plant world.

We navigate much of the world unconsciously, recognising patterns—but often, these patterns stem from branding, packaging, and human-made environments rather than nature itself. Over time, we’ve become ‘plant-blind’—unable to distinguish species that were once deeply familiar to our ancestors.

A sense that isn’t used weakens over time, and this applies not only to sight but also to smell, taste, sound, touch, and our ability to read the landscape with senses we may not even be aware we have. Reawakening these senses through foraging is about far more than just gathering food—it’s about reconnecting with a way of knowing that has been largely forgotten. Even before fully redeveloping this instinctual awareness, foragers are gifted with a front-row seat to the unnoticed wonders of the wild.

This month, I’d like to take a closer look at Horsetail, along with two members of the often-feared but deeply rewarding Apiaceae (carrot and parsley) family: Ground Elder and Common Hogweed.

There’s an unnecessary amount of fear surrounding foraging in general, and I believe the caution around the Apiaceae family is largely exaggerated as well. Knowledge is the antidote to fear. By replacing fear with informed caution, we lift unnecessary restrictions that keep us from some of the most flavourful and versatile wild foods available. Ground Elder and Common Hogweed, in particular, are excellent “introduction” plants to the Apiaceae family, offering both relative ease of identification and exceptional taste.

Of course, as always, ethical foraging is key. When identifying plants, think of it as you would recognising a person. You wouldn’t describe someone simply as “the one with blue eyes.” Instead, you’d use multiple attributes: “They had blue eyes, blonde hair, were about 6ft tall, and had a Mancunian accent.” The same level of detail should apply when identifying plants in the wild. At least.

Look for as many identifying attributes about each plant as you can when getting to know them.

Ground Elder (Aegopodium podagraria)

Ground Elder

 Once introduced by the Romans as both a food crop and medicinal plant, Ground Elder has since earned a reputation as an invasive nuisance. Yet, what frustrates gardeners can delight foragers—it’s nutritious, abundant, and delicious.

Low-growing with glossy, lobed leaves that form dense carpets. With a groove down the petiole, giving it a triangular cross-section. Aromatic leaves resemble celery or parsley when crushed. In late spring, umbrella-like white flowers appear, confirming its place in the carrot family.

Young leaves are best—mild, slightly nutty, and perfect for soups, pestos, or our Spring Tart. Historically used to treat gout due to its anti-inflammatory properties. A rich source of Vitamins A and C, calcium, and potassium. Later in the year, the flowers in a tea are said to have a soporific, calming effect and supposedly aid with anxiety and sleep.

As a carrot-family plant, correct identification is vital. Harvest before flowering, as older leaves can become tough and mildly laxative.

Common Hogweed (Heracleum sphondylium)

Hogweed growing on a woodland path

Common Hogweed is a wild food treasure, offering an earthy, citrusy but unique flavour. I’d bet that if you asked any forager in England for their top five wild edibles, Common Hogweed would make most of those lists.

 However, given its dangerous relatives, precise identification is crucial.

Deeply lobed, hairy leaves with a wrinkled texture. Young shoots emerge tightly curled, unfurling as they grow. The stems, sometimes with a slightly purple tinge. This purple will be a solid, whereas, on Giant Hogweed (the main concern around confusion, being its closest lookalike), the purple would be blotchy. Creamy-white umbel flowers appear later in the season.

Young shoots (before leaves fully open) are delicious when briefly steamed, then lightly fried. Unopened flower buds are great battered and fried. Seeds can be dried and used as a warming, almost cardamom-like spice.

NEVER confuse with Giant Hogweed (Heracleum mantegazzianum), which is dangerous to touch, causing severe burns. Giant Hogweed has smooth, rigid stems with firm prickly hairs (mostly around the nodes) and a hexagonal petiole, whereas Common Hogweed is covered in fine white downy hairs and has a distinctive groove running down the petiole. Common Hogweed still contains the same phyto-phototoxic sap, although much less harmful. Those with sensitive skin may wish to wear gloves when handling it until cooked.

Common Horsetail (Equisetum arvense)

Common Horsetail

A true relic of prehistory, Horsetail is one of the oldest plant species on Earth, dating back over 350 million years. Recognisable by its segmented, jointed stems (I like to call it ‘nature’s Lego’—it’s oddly satisfying to pull the sections apart in its mature state) and bristle-like growth, it thrives in damp soils, spreading aggressively.

In early spring, fertile shoots emerge first—tan or brown, topped with a spore-producing cone. This is the stage of growth we are looking for now to go with our recipe. These are swiftly followed by sterile green shoots, which resemble miniature pine trees. Then, I tend to use it sparingly in wild teas and often throw sprigs into a hot bath with me for its skin and hair benefits.

Young, tan shoots can be eaten sparingly when peeled and cooked, with a flavour I believe surpasses even the nicest asparagus I have ever eaten. The green summer growth is rich in silica and traditionally used to strengthen bones, nails, and hair. Horsetail tea is valued for its diuretic properties, though it should be used in moderation due to its high mineral content.

Horsetail contains thiaminase, an enzyme that breaks down thiamine (Vitamin B1), which can lead to deficiency if consumed raw in large amounts over extended periods. Cooking or drying deactivates this enzyme, reducing the risk. It also readily absorbs heavy metals from soil, so avoid harvesting from polluted areas.

I usually stick to using Common Horsetail (Equisetum arvense) or Giant Horsetail (Equisetum telmateia), as there is debate around differing levels of toxicity in some of the others—particularly Marsh Horsetail (Equisetum palustre), which contains toxic alkaloids and is known to be harmful to livestock. It prefers wetter, boggy areas and has thinner, darker green stems with less pronounced whorls of ‘leaves.’ Best avoided due to potential toxicity.

It’s wise to familiarise yourself with the differences. Giant and Common Horsetail are certainly the most common species I come across around here, but as with all foraging, accurate identification is key.

Wild Spring Tart

Wild Spring Tart

Celebrate the best of early spring’s foraged greens with this savoury tart. The fresh, nutty notes of Ground Elder, the mild citrusy-earthiness of Common Hogweed, the rich earthiness of Nettles, and the subtle, asparagus-like flavour of Horsetail combine beautifully.

Ingredients

For the pastry:

• 200g plain flour
• 100g butter (or plant-based alternative)
• 1 egg yolk (or cold water for a vegan option)
• Pinch of salt

For the filling:

• 1 large handful Ground Elder (young, unfurled leaves)
• 1 handful Common Hogweed (young, unfurled shoots)
• 1 handful Nettle tops (the youngest, freshest leaves from the top of the plant)
• 1 handful Field or Giant Horsetail (young green shoots)
• 3 eggs
• 200ml cream or oat-based alternative
• 1 small onion, finely chopped
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 50g cheese (optional)
• Salt & pepper to taste
• A dash of nutmeg (optional)

Method

1. Prepare the pastry, chill for 30 minutes, then blind bake (e.g., line the pastry with baking paper, fill with baking beans, and bake for 10 minutes) at 180°C for 10 minutes.
2. Steam the Common Hogweed shoots and Horsetail for 2–3 minutes to soften before sautéing.
3. Sauté the onion and garlic in a little oil until softened. Add the steamed Horsetail and Hogweed, cooking for a further 2 minutes.
4. Stir in the fresh Ground Elder and Nettle tops, letting the residual heat wilt them slightly.
5. In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, cream, salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Fold in the cooked greens.
6. Pour the mixture into the pastry case, top with cheese if using, and bake for 20–25 minutes until set and golden.

As we embrace spring, let’s do so with curiosity but also caution. By slowing down, engaging our senses, and learning to recognise the language of plants, we step into a world that has been waiting for us all along.

Join us at Pendle Plant Craft for foraging walks, workshops, and community gatherings, where we explore the land’s seasonal offerings together.

I appreciate that we’ve stepped up our game here, moving beyond the ‘beginner’ foraging we’ve covered before. But I have faith in you—especially if you’ve been reading my articles over the last year and putting it into practice. Do also check out the article I wrote this time last year. Though less complex, it’s equally valuable, and I think you’ll find the recipe at least on par.

For more guidance on foraging, I have written a book: Thirteen Cycles Toward Nature’s Wisdom is a living record of Pendle Plant Craft’s first year at Lomeshaye Marsh Nature Reserve—a journey through shifting seasons, paying attention, and hands-on connection with the land. It weaves together documentation of the reserve’s rich biodiversity and the ways we have worked in harmony with it—learning together from plants, trees, and fungi, crafting remedies, cooking and creating with the wild, and finding our place within nature’s rhythms. More than a field guide, this is a celebration of symbiosis—between people, plants, and place—an invitation to slow down, listen, and rediscover the wisdom held in the wild.

ColneLife March/April/May 25