A Fleeting and Fragrant Find
There are a few times of year when one variety of flower seems to take over the landscape – when spots that were once barely on your radar become all you can see. Dandelions covering once green and grassy fields, wisteria climbing on telephone poles and trellises that were bare and ordinary, wild roses bringing a sense of wonder to those first warm days of beach season.
While slightly less on the radar than those more common – and, in some ways, more noticeable blossoms – there is another incredibly fragrant, quite beautiful, and (lucky for wild food fans) edible flower that arrives in a wave that seems to be simply everywhere in the late spring: black locust flowers. These delicate clusters of white flowers arrive and leave almost before you can blink, but during their short window they are veritably dripping off the once-overlooked trees lining our neighborhoods.
If you catch black locust trees at just that right moment the experience is one not to be missed. Trees that spend so much of the year as unassuming residents on our streets become olfactory powerhouses, and quite striking ones to boot. The fragrance of these flowers fills the air, and once you learn to recognize it you will know the instant you are in the vicinity of one, often long before you actually see the tree it’s coming from. It is a scent that I often compare to Concord grapes mixed with rich vanilla, while still being wholly its own.
Black locust (Robinia pseudoacacia) flowers are one of my favorite flower varieties. The delicate blossoms are remarkably beautiful in addition to smelling so lovely. They are, helpfully, also fairly easy to identify. Black locust flowers grow in clusters of mostly white, pea-like blossoms that hang in long bunches like grapes, and the abundance of drooping bunches on each tree cannot be overstated. The flowers of this tree present like pea flowers because black locust is a member of the Fabaceae or Leguminosae family that also contains the peas and beans we are so familiar with in our lives and kitchens.
During the week or so when flowers are in full force, the trees are covered in these blossoms, each of which has a small spot of yellow in the center of the upper petal and is attached to a thicker central stem by a very thin and short stem. The flower bunches themselves are surrounded by branches with compound leaves, bearing small rounded ovular leaflets that also grow along a central stem. The cascading appearance of those leaves matches that of the flowers themselves, adding to the overall effect that each tree is lush and teeming with life. The trunks of black locust trees are also quite recognizable, with deep vertical cuts running up the length of the greyish brown bark, and have a decidedly sturdy look amongst often more delicate looking greenery. The leaves, flowers, and bark, all taken together, make it fairly straightforward to know that you have spotted the right trees.
These trees are also, more often than not, very, very tall. I can’t tell you how many years I’ve missed out on black locust flowers as part of my foraging calendar not only because the season for these blossoms is so fleeting but simply because the trees I come across are frequently just way too high to pick from. Tree height plus timing can certainly make it something of a challenge to collect black locust flowers at just the right moment before they begin to brown and wilt, but if you can manage it I can’t recommend it enough, because that signature fragrance is mirrored in their similar, though slightly milder, flavor. Keep your eyes peeled for a tree that has low-hanging branches, or a younger and smaller tree you can easily access, and then wait for the precise moment when the blossoms open but before they start to turn. Then harvest as you like, since the trees are so prolific, and those high-growing branches mean that you would be hard pressed to make any real impact on either the plants themselves or your local wildlife by picking what you will use.
As with so many edible flowers, I tend to use black locust flowers in one of three ways: fresh-tossed in salads, frittered to a golden crisp (and either served with a savory sauce or dusted with confectioners’ sugar for dessert), or turned into a cocktail. Since black locust flowers have their own sort of floral sweetness to them, I love to pair them with more tart ingredients. This might mean accompanying a dessert fritter with a raspberry compote or making a vinegary panzanella salad and tossing the flowers in right at the end so they don’t wilt. This past June I frequently enjoyed the abundance of black locust flowers as an ingredient in one of my favorite cocktails: the delightfully limey – and in my opinion underappreciated – gimlet. Simply incorporate a good amount of fresh flowers into your simple syrup recipe, saving some for a garnish that also acts to boost the fragrance while you’re drinking, and you have the perfect refreshing drink for a warm spring evening.
Throughout the rest of the year you may forget that black locust trees are all around us on the Cape, but if you time it right, you just may be able to discover a new and exciting ingredient with a fragrance and flavor all its own. And that’s something you won’t likely soon forget.
*NOTE: Always consult with trusted experts and refer to foraging books and field guides for 100% positive plant identification before consuming any wild plant, and make sure you are familiar with every potentially dangerous plant that grows in your region. As with harvesting any wild plant, and particularly ones that grow in commonly-sprayed areas, take particular care to collect from spaces you know to be chemical-free. Never pick any wild plant from protected spaces. Integrate new foods into your diet in small quantities to gauge any dietary and allergy sensitivities, and consult with a doctor if you have any questions or concerns about specific health issues or medication interactions.
Becca Miller lives in the Adirondack Mountains and works as a professional farm-to-classroom educator, ceramics teacher, writer, and photographer. A former Cape Codder in residence but always a Cape Codder at heart, Becca spent her time living on the Cape running a CSA program where she taught members how to use harvest items in new and creative ways. Becca is a Certified Master Food Preserver and a Leave No Trace Trainer, and her writing has been featured in Edible Capital District, Edible Vermont, and Adirondac magazines, along with Alice Waters’ Edible Schoolyard blog and Mother Earth Living’s Food Matters blog. Find Becca’s writing at beccamillerwriting.weebly.com.
