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The overarching goal for this West Virginia native is “to get our region’s wild foods into the hands of chefs and back into the hands of people who live here.”
Photo Above: Clay Morris says garlic mustard excels as a pesto.
Photos Courtesy of Bruce Ingram.
Clay Morris vividly recalls growing up in rural Jefferson County, West Virginia, especially his African American mentor, Rippon’s Martha Washington, who set him on his path as a forager.
“Miss Washington was sort of the community babysitter for kids, and she would take us searching for old field greens like land cress and hairy bittercress as well as pokeweed, watercress and wild mushrooms,” Morris recalls. “These are traditional Appalachian subsistence foods, and Miss Washington knew how to safely identify and cook them.”
Decades later on this particular spring day, Morris has just come from conducting a workshop at Shepherd University in Shepherdstown on Appalachian Foodways and Foraging.
Indeed, for the past quarter century-plus, the Clark County resident has labored in the field of restoration ecology and land manager, teaching others about the sustainable lifestyle shared by this region’s indigenous people and the African Americans and White Europeans who lived in these mountains.
Morris drives my wife Elaine and me to a Warren County farm where we begin foraging through and along the edges of a woodlot. Immediately, he begins sharing his knowledge.
“Many people today do not know that the Native Americans actively managed this region’s forests,” he says. “They removed trees around hickories, oaks and American chestnuts so that these trees could produce more nuts which supplied critical fats to their diet. If a blackberry vine popped up in an opening, the Native Americans cleared around it so that more vines could appear. These people were not tilling and hoeing these mountains, but they were encouraging certain trees and plants.”
We ramble for only a few yards before our guide discovers our first wild edible: yellow rocket, often called creasy greens in this region. Morris explains that creasy greens were a spring vegetable staple as domestic greens were often not available yet. But he is more interested in the flora’s flowers, which he plans to ferment and make into mustard. A few steps later brings us to curly dock, another early-season green. Our host tutors that this species has to be gathered early before the seeds form.
As we continue to walk along the fertile edge between forest and field, Morris observes native lowbush blueberries growing in great profusion. He makes a mental note to return in mid-summer when this forerunner of domestic blueberries ripens.
Our next sojourn is at a native greenbrier plant, also known as catbrier. Clay deftly snips several newly formed leaves, and the three of us relish a delicious snack.
“Green is a flavor in these mountains,” Morris smiles. “Raw, fresh greenbrier leaves taste like lemony asparagus, which makes a body feel good. In part because at this time of year, our bodies are craving something green. During the winter, everything our ancestors ate had been smoked, cured or pickled.”
Continuing, we come across dandelions. Morris marvels that many people regard this so-called weed as something to eradicate from lawns, while in reality the dandelion is a true superfood packed with vitamins and minerals. Indeed, the tap root, young leaves and yellow flowers are all edible and versatile in the kitchen as well.
The forager says he relishes filling a jar half full of dandelion flowers, covering them with white wine vinegar, and steeping the concoction for two months. Then strain, and infused vinegar will be the result.
But Morris’ favorite way to use this superfood is to chop a number of its roots into rice-size bits and toast them.
Next, we encounter garlic mustard, which though the green leaves can be consumed raw in salads, Morris maintains that they excel in pesto. And the roots—chopped fine and steeped in white vinegar—make a sublime horseradish. Soon afterwards we gather broadleaf plantain, yet another wild food regarded as a superfood, with the leaves serving well in fresh salads or boiled as one would greens. Last, we gather oxsallis, also known as wood sorrel, which our guide says will go well in a smoked trout mousse entree he is planning.
As we return to the truck, Clay Morris explains what one of his major life goals is.
“My mission is to get our region’s wild foods into the hands of chefs and back into the hands of people who live here,” he says. “People ate these foods for thousands of years … and can enjoy them again.”
For more information on Clay Morris: ashbygapadventures.com.
The story above first appeared in our March / April 2025 issue.
