By Cécile Gilquin
A small field not far from Brussels is home to Tiers-Paysage, where Cécile Gilquin grows and forages with an immense respect and gratitude for nature’s gifts. Her mission is to help eaters rediscover edible wild plants. In this letter from a forager, Cécile walks us through a world where the untended feeds us.
Tiers Paysage, a laboratory in the field
In recent years, my concern for the future has been growing. All scientific reports confirm it: the Earth is now around 1.2°C warmer than in the pre-industrial era, and we may cross the symbolic threshold of 1.5°C as soon as the early 2030s.
In addition to the dramatic consequences that climate change has on farming worldwide, agriculture still relies heavily on fossil fuels (fertilisers, machinery, transport, processing, packaging). We must urgently consider ‘sustainable’ alternatives that consume less energy, especially since yield losses are particularly severe in regions with modern agricultural practices and a moderate climate that are ill-prepared for climate change—such as Belgium, where I live.
Over the past few seasons, I have been working on two things with Tiers-Paysage.
Firstly I cultivate less than a hectare of land with minimal consumption of energy and resources. To save my own energy, I select vegetables that serve more than one purpose (edible green manure, for example) and have several edible parts (roots, stems, leaves, fruits, flowers). To limit my consumption of water and fertilisers, I use as many “hardy” plants as possible in my field; these are in fact cultivated or wild plants that are a normal part of the diet in other countries.
The second strand of the project is foraging, to demonstrate the value of native edible plants that grow wild.
Through collaborations with caterers and bakers, I humbly seek to change perceptions of these little-known species. My clients use their skill to showcase them and allow a wide audience to eat and appreciate these plants.
Where the wild complements the cultivated
Growing and foraging is a time suck. Both activities involve a lot of research, testing crops, failed experiments, and testing recipes.
Foraging is not as idyllic as you might think. There are a lot of complex logistics: moving around to find the best spots, stumbling upon interesting plants, picking at the right time and in moderation, suggesting culinary uses.
This is why I believe in a future where growing and foraging are connected and complementary, if only to preserve the wild species. Responsible foraging should allow nature time to regenerate. With intensive agriculture and forestry, spaces for foraging are becoming increasingly scarce. We must try to preserve these habitats. Philosopher Baptiste Morizot advocates for “spaces for free evolution” to rekindle the embers of the living world.
Forgotten foods
Long before the advent of agriculture, virtually all peoples of the world relied on wild plants for food, whether to survive during lean periods or simply for the pleasure of eating them.
In most hunter-gatherer societies, the gathering of edible wild plants is a gendered activity: women play a key role as guardians of knowledge and practice. Often underestimated or even overlooked in ethnobotanical studies, these women rarely had the opportunity to share their knowledge in official historical narratives, which is a key factor in explaining our limited knowledge of edible wild plants.
Other factors can be cited: intergenerational transmission has declined with the abandonment of rural lifestyles; urbanisation has reduced direct contact with nature; intensive agriculture and the abundance of industrial foods have made foraging less necessary.
Wild foods have been marginalised by growing health concerns around pollution and environmental disruption, and a perception of wild plants as ‘famine foods’ that are unappealing and even dangerous.
On my guided foraging walks, I find the group is always hesitant to taste plants picked in the wild. Discovering new foods and their flavours is a particular experience, especially if the taste is unusual or tends towards bitter (which is often the case), one of the five tastes that we have gradually neglected in favour of sweet and salty.
Foraging for food, and more
In recent history, modern agriculture’s reliance on ‘high-yield’ varieties has led to a sharp decline in the biodiversity of cultivated species and plants. Today, we depend on a handful of “neutral” and “standardised” species, whose low genetic diversity hinders their adaptation to the effects of climate change. This situation raises not only issues of food sovereignty but also erodes the identity of our territories.
In this context, edible wild plants emerge as a possible response. They play a key role as they form the basis of our plant heritage. Their richness and resilience are crucial to help ensure tomorrow’s food security, as they grow without chemical inputs, often in poor soils, in harsh climates.
Wild plants allow us to lay claim to a connection to the land. In contexts of occupation, dispossession or precariousness, they can become symbols of resistance.
Anthropologist Cannelle Labuthie describes how in occupied Palestine, Israeli occupation policies have impeded the circulation of Palestinian baladi seeds (landrace seeds—literally “my country” in Arabic). Land confiscation, restricted access to resources (seeds, water, soil), and territorial fragmentation are associated with imposed technical interventions or ‘modernisation’. These policies go hand in hand with the homogenisation of varieties and dependence on industrial and foreign seeds.
Foragers, a fictionalised documentary by Jumana Manna, raises questions around the politics of ownership of the living world. The Israeli state monopolises za’atar (Origanum syriacum) and akkoub (Gundelia tournefortii) by classifying them as protected species. Where in the past they were picked freely, these plants are now under state control. The Palestinian people are denied access to foods they have gathered for generations that are part of their cultural and culinary heritage.
Wild and uncultivated
The word “wild” often has negative connotations. In the West, wild plants are often perceived as intruders, untamed and dangerous, rather than a potential source of food, shelter or landscape identification with the land.
Labelling an edible wild plant “famine food” or “poisonous” reveals colonial or eurocentric prejudices that stem from an implicit hierarchy of cultivated versus wild plants. By marginalising useful wild plants and the traditional knowledge associated with them, the industrial agricultural system has obscured their central place in local food customs and their potential in a world stricken by climate and social crises.
I see a brighter future in two practices: (re)learning to reproduce hardy cultivated varieties by saving seeds, season after season, and learning about the edible wild plants around us—and eating them—as a political, ecological and cultural act.
To conclude, I leave you with the encouraging words of Estelle Zhong Mengal:
“That means we can learn to see the living world. It’s not an aptitude we are born with or passively inherit, once and for all, from the cosmology we inhabit. It’s a muscle that is exercised.”
More
Where The Untended Feeds Us – Cécile Gilquin’s “Tiers-Paysage”
Whats Seeds for Tomorrow? A Podcast Mini-Series by Seeds4All and Seed Carriers
The Future of Seeds: The Power Play Between Patents and New GMOs
Crafting the Collective – Tijs Boelens’ Vision for a Farmer-Led Grain Revival
Re-Sowing the Seeds of Connection in Switzerland, Part I – Nurturing What We Have
The EU Has the Funds but Lacks Focus – This Farm Shows What’s Possible with Both
Portugal | Regenerative Heritage Grains – From Soil To Bread
