In rural Umbria, every season and almost every weather event brings with it a call to head into the woods and fields and search for food. From prized delicacies such as porcini mushrooms or black and white truffles, to cucina povera (“poor people’s food”) staples like bitter chicory and wild asparagus, Umbrians forage not because they have to, but because they can.
At least, that’s how things are now. But once upon a not-too-distant time ago, contadini (the Italian word for farmers but generally accepted to mean “country people”) used foraged food as a component of their diets—if not for survival then certainly to add flavor and variety. Even Allerona’s name allegedly comes from a tradition of foraging. The corbezzolo (arbutus unedo) tree grows wild across the Mediterranean, including in the hills of Allerona, and bears an abundant fruit supposedly similar to strawberries. (Reader, I’ve tasted corbezzolo fruit and they are NOTHING like strawberries, but if you were hungry enough, they’d offer you some sustenance.) Contadini supposedly called these trees “lerona.” And when pointing someone up the hill to give directions, they’d say “a’lerona”—up where you find lerona. The name stuck, and so did the story.
Mold gold: Porcini mushrooms & other funghi
The cars parked all along the edge of the woods are a tell-tale sign it’s porcini season, and all the city-folk have headed to the hills to hunt for these short, bulbous, brown-capped mushrooms. These cute fungi may look like they should be dancing and singing in a Disney film, but their rich, nutty test makes them a seriously coveted ingredient in seasonal risottos and soups, or on their own, battered and fried. Late summer and early fall are the best times to hunt porcini; they require an abundant rainfall followed by several warm days, plus dappled sunlight hitting the forest floor.
Porcini are the prize, but those same conditions are conducive to other edible mushrooms, many of whose names I know only in local dialect. We rely on our intrepid uomo del bosco (man of the woods), Peppino, to tell us which mushrooms are safe to eat—his scale is something like, si, no, and “don’t touch your face after handling that one.”
Black, white & prized all over
Porcini aren’t the only precious fungi the Umbrian soil gives up. In summer, tartufai, or truffle hunters, take their specially trained dogs and head to the woods at the crack of dawn, when the ground is still moist and fragrant—and, ideally, to get a rise on their competition. It’s a well-rehearsed ritual. The truffle hunters hide their 4WD trucks near sections of woods, some known only to them, head to just the right trees, and gently coax the dogs, which frantically sniff the ground and then, luck willing, start to dig for black summer truffles (Tuber aestivum). Rarer and even more coveted are pungent, highly perishable white truffles (Tuber magnatum), which are found only from October to December, and only under very specific atmospheric and soil conditions. Prices vary wildly from year to year depending on availability. When the pickings are slim, a tartufaio can earn up to €3,000 per kilo of white truffles, and €100 per kilo for black.
Few foods can compete with the truffles’ strong flavor and aroma, so whatever they’re served with is typically just a vehicle for the truffle—simple pastas and fried eggs are typical accompaniments, though you can also get them shaved over a steak or filet. Truffles evoke extreme feelings—you either love them or hate them. I won’t say which camp I’m in.
Shoots, stems & leaves
It’s tough to spot the thin stalks of wild asparagus as they sprout from the springtime woods. But slow, methodical walking is often rewarded with a bundle or two of the stemmy shoots. The contadini who know their woods know which patches of ground are most likely to yield wild asparagus, which is much thinner—and frequently much woodier—than its commercially grown cousin. It’s not a vegetable to be eaten as a side dish with hollandaise sauce; instead it’s served finely chopped in frittatas, risottos or pasta dishes.
Resilient wild fennel grows year-round in fields, and in seemingly inhospitable locations along roadsides, among abandoned grapevines and in scraggly junkyards. The tall plant has fairylike leaves, and sprouts clumps of delicate white and yellow flowers. Leaves are used to season roasted pork (porchetta) and game meats, and the dried seeds flavor a variety of dishes—they’re especially good on roasted potatoes. Leafy green cicoria is ubiquitous in Umbria. It grows like mad year-round in virtually all conditions—sunshade, rain and drought. Though its literal translation is chicory, it bears little resemblance to its distant cousin, Belgian endive, which is also called chicory. Wild Italian chicory has an extremely bitter taste, exceeding even that of its close relative, dandelion greens. It’s served as a side dish, sautéed like spinach or kale, with olive oil, lemon and cracked red pepper.
The Hosteria di Villalba, a rustic eatery in the hills about 30 minutes from Orvieto, serves seasonal menus devoted entirely to erbe spontanee, or wild greens. Its woodsy setting, with walking trails heading out in all directions, relaxed ambiance and a menu built around locally sourced, organic and foraged foods make it a great introduction to the cherished Umbrian tradition of “hunting” for the next meal.
Foraging for wild foods is one of our favorite experiences to share with guests, and a key part of our Immersive Umbria tour. Fall or spring, we’ll hunt for mushrooms, asparagus, truffles, and other edible treasures that the woods offer us.
