A Boodle Of Elderberries

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A pleasant summer's stroll can probably take you to a veritable supermarket of a bush!

by Marion Lillie

Upon moving from the Midwest to the Idaho mountains, I was faced with the task of learning how to recognize scads of new woodland plants. Somehow, though —no matter where I might look—one particular shrub kept catching my eye. At first I simply noticed the plentiful plant's showy compound leaves . . . each with 5 to 11 leaflets. But then in June (after everything else had bloomed) this tall bush suddenly became a striking hillside ornamental packed with clusters of delicate white flowers. Still later-right at the ragged end of summer—the blossoms were transformed into bunches of tiny purple berries . . . and some of those tasty-looking, double-handful-sized fruit clumps became so heavy their stems drooped down with the weight!

When I quizzed my nearest neighbor about this abundant yet mysterious shrub, she said, "Why, they're plain of good-eatin' elderberries, child." So I decided to harvest a few fruity clusters and kitchen-test them! The berries were so easy to pick that I was able to gather a bagful in no time at all. I soon found out, though, that the tedious task of separating the individual fruits from their tiny twigs more than made up for the "pickability" of the manyberried clumps. And to tell the truth, the little morsels didn't taste all that good to me raw, either (though I've learned since then that some folks like 'em fine that way).

I was beginning to wonder if this particular wild food wasn't better left in the woods. But then I started cooking with elderberries, and I quickly reversed my opinion. The tidbits were downright delectable when baked (especially if I added a touch of lemon to my fixings): I just used elders in my blueberry recipes ... and turned out dandy pies, cobblers, and muffins. (The fruits became naturally mellow and mouthwatering as soon as I'd dried a few bunches, too.)

Once I'd achieved these culinary successes, I became so enchanted with elderberries that I even researched the curious plant in a field guide . . . and learned that blue, purple, and black specimens of Sambucus canadensis are common all over the U.S., and all are renowned for being finer sources of vitamin C than even oranges or tomatoes! There is also a less-common red-fruited variety—Sambucus racemosa—that's been reported to make some folks sick. However, since the good elders are all blue, purple, or black when ripe . . . the racemosa berries are easy to avoid.

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