Secret Recipe: Forest Tea Eggs and Elder Magic

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Is there anything quite so wonderful as nuzzling into soft blankets and sleeping in a bit on a rainy or snowy fall day? Something about the juxtaposition of cold weather and warm bedding makes waking up to the smell and sound of rain coming in your open window particularly delicious. It’s interesting to me how we often become hyper aware of barriers at this time of year, and it is the contrast of the chilly outdoors and the cozy inside spaces that make us feel so peaceful and happy. In summer, doors are often left open and one can run in and out easily in the same clothing. Winter requires a different approach. We layer on long underwear, sweaters, raingear or snow-worthy jackets, hats, mittens, scarves… the threshold to nature takes longer to cross and perhaps that’s what makes the journey so worth it. 

When I lived in rainy central Oregon, I was worried that I would become horribly depressed during the long wet season, since I was used to the blue skies of Idaho’s colder winters. I quickly found, however, that it was absolutely delightful to be out in the rain, as long as I stayed warm and dry and cozy. My nose would feel the chilly dampness and I would delight in the gentle pattering of raindrops on my hood and shoulders, like a tiny little massage. My many layers kept me warm as I’d wander through those glittering woods, taking in the eerie splendor that only a misty morning can bring. A walk in the rain is a treasure. 

The smell of wet woods is intoxicating. Suddenly, a complexity of fragrance becomes available when before it was only subtle. If you pause, close your eyes, and focus on your nose, you may smell woodsy mushrooms, spicy tree bark, earthy fallen leaves. Take a chance to explore and gather some of the wood’s flavors to infuse into beautiful (and delicious) wild-flavored infused eggs, inspired by Chinese Tea Eggs. 

Eggs are wonderful absorbers of flavor. In fact, you can create your own truffled eggs simply by putting a little piece of white or black truffle in an airtight bin with them for a couple of days. Sure enough, your next omelette will be one to remember! We think of eggshells as being little containers, keeping the egg inside and the external world out. But eggshells are surprisingly permeable; that’s why the trick with truffles works so well. 

Similarly, we think of our own skin as a protective layer, protecting our organs from the world outside. Skin is, in fact, our largest organ and it is surprisingly absorbent. Like the eggs, we too absorb our environment, in both a physical and a mental sense. I always wear gloves when glazing ceramics or working with dye baths, knowing that the chemicals in each would be readily absorbed by my skin and held in my body.  

Beyond the physical barrier of skin, we absorb our environments in a different way, too. Have you ever noticed how much effect environment has on your sense of well-being? Do you feel stressed or tired under fluroescent lights? Do you find bright spaces with lots of pattern and color to be overwhelming? Do you tend to have more anxiety or depression when your house is cluttered?

I’ve noticed that my own mental health has some pretty strong ties to my environment. I’ve filled my house with soft, nature-based colors and feel much more relaxed when it is clean. 

Take a moment to look around your surroundings the next time you are home. Do the colors and patterns present evoke positive responses in your mind and body? Does the arrangement of furniture fit your needs? Does it feel cozy and comfortable? Fall is a great time for “nesting.” That is, re-evaluating the spaces in your home and adding cozy accents to them in time for winter’s slow reflection. You want to essentially create a space that feels good to soak up. 

My favorite pattern is to tidy before I go out, leaving spaces as blank slates for bits of nature from my wanders. I tidy, clean, rearrange, and then feel a little bit lighter as I layer on all of my rain gear and warm clothes. Having a clean space with lots of natural touches is my favorite way to nest.  A rainy (or snowy) walk in the woods yields all sorts of wonders! Look for fallen branches or pretty leaves, little relics to stick in a vase or pin to the wall. Gather fragrant wild plants to use in your kitchen. Then when you return home, put some of those forest flavors on to boil while you decorate your living space with the rest. Infuse your home with the same wildness that you are infusing into these eggs. Then nestle in and absorb what you’ve created. 

Forest Tea Eggs

These are a traditional Chinese snack or accompaniment to tea, but the process itself is wonderfully adaptable to the balance of flavors found in the Pacific Northwest! Traditional tea eggs are a toothsome balance of salty, spiced, tannic, and warm. Keep in mind that the eggs should infuse at least overnight (and preferably for a couple of days) for maximum flavor. This recipe is based on what I found on my woodland wanders; feel free to substitute your own edible wild plants for a blend that is customized to you! 

Elderberry Capers: 

These briny, salty-sour berries are a great stand-in for capers in a huge variety of recipes. Try adding them to your salads or appetizer spreads! 

The idea originally came from the Nordic Food Lab in Denmark, whose researchers discovered that a process of fermentation and boiling renders these otherwise-toxic berries safe to eat. (At least in the same way capers are eaten; as a garnish or flavoring as opposed to a big bowl full.) 

Further Explorations: Forest Balsamic Vinegar

True balsamic vinegar is a thick, dark, intensely-flavored liquid made from concentrated grape must and aged for years (or even decades.) Some describe it as “the flavor of time itself” as layers of complex flavors from different wooden barrels infuse the syrupy liquid. It was seen as a fortifying substance in ancient civilizations; even its name comes from “balsamico,” which means “balsam-like” in the sense that the vinegar was throught to be restorative and curative, just as balsam was. True balsamic vinegar is made from a reduction of Trebbiano or Lambrusco grapes, which is then aged for at least 12 years in several different barrels of successively smaller sizes. Many bottles of fine balsamic are older than me! The thick black liquid that results from this long aging process is a treat indeed - it’s considered so fine that it is sometimes drizzled over fresh fruit or gelato as a sumptuous dessert, or even sipped from a tiny glass at the end of a meal.

(Quick sidenote: Many of us know balsamic as Balsamic Vinegar of Modena, which is an imitation of the traditional cask-aged brews. This vinegar is made of wine vinegar with the addition of colorants and thickeners and is usually aged for only a couple of months, not necessarily in wooden casks.)

If you, like me, are too impatient to wait another quarter century for a homemade batch of balsamic vinegar to be ready to taste, the good news is that you can make a delicious potion with the same depth of flavor from foraged elderberries! Elder is an extraordinary plant. Both the flowers and berries of this large bush have been used for generations as healing tonics and plant medicine. Even its name harkens to the ancient wisdom it holds. Ancient healers and scholars (like Hippocrates and Pliny the Elder) write of its healing powers. Pagan traditions honor the “Elder Mother,” the spirit of a wise woman or goddess the plant seemed to carry. Even Christians honor this plant, as its believed that the cross Jesus was crucified on was made of elder wood. At a time when the year is aging and preparing for renewal, we look to the plants that feel ancient and wise as well. Elder is at the top of that list.

Elder has a particular association to the darkest days of the year. Perhaps its because of the elder wisdom this plant holds, or perhaps it’s simply because of the deep rich purples and blacks of its berries, but elderberries are tied to darkness, nighttime, and even fire. The name “elder” may come from the elder wisdom associated with this bush, but some also suggest that it may be derived from the Anglo-Saxon Aeld, meaning fire. (This may be because of its pithy stems that are sometimes used as fire starters.) It, too, reminds us of the beauty of darkness and the richness of age. It’s a dose of medicine for both body and spirit; physically it gives us lots of flavanoids, anthocyanins, and vitamins to help fight off winter ailments, and spiritually it fills us with an appreciation for the rich blackness that is to come. 

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