From coast to coast: Why seaside foraging is in our blood

Foraging is in our DNA and, although it may have become hidden from many of us, it is always ready to emerge if we allow it. ‘When the tide is out, the table is set’ is a saying originating from the First Nations of the Pacific Northwest coast of Alaska and Canada, but it applies equally to most coastal regions where the sea is clean. Of all the habitats in which a forager might look for food, the coast is by far the most rewarding in both diversity of edible species and nutritional density.

Many of the vegetables we have cultivated for consumption still grow freely there: wild cabbage (Brassica oleracea), for example, was domesticated by 2000BC and has since been selectively bred into a host of staples, including broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, kale and Brussels sprouts. It still grows coastally.

Of course, the coast isn’t uniform: it’s a patchwork of ecosystems. The plant communities of maritime woods and hedgerows enjoy the warming effect of the sea, which makes for a longer and frost-free growing season and, occasionally, sandy, free-draining soils, together with an abundance of mineral-rich fresh water running off the land and less predation by insects and herbivores. For these reasons, the earliest, biggest, juiciest and sweetest fruits tend to swell near our coasts — sloes ripen earlier and tend to grow more prolifically, often plump and dark enough to harvest as early as August — as well as some delightful aromatic plants, the stems and leaves of which grow fatter than those of their inland kin.

Perhaps the most versatile of these is alexanders (Smyrnium olusatrum), all of which is edible, with a strong, bitter, aromatic flavour. Leaves, young shoots and thin stems have a more pungent, celery-like taste; used sparingly, they add an interesting flavour to salads, especially tempered with an oily dressing. In Turkey, young shoots and leaves are cooked and eaten with yogurt. They can also be finely shredded and used like an extra aromatic parsley in soups and sauces or to add a twist to pesto or salsa verde. Alexanders seeds are an excellent spice, reminiscent of black cumin; try adding them to bread dough or keep some pre-ground in a pinch pot by the cooker. Be sure not to confuse alexanders with poisonous hemlock, which they resemble: a key difference is that the flowers are yellow, rather than white.

There is nothing within the regular reach of tides that is dependable enough for terrestrial plants to cling to, but above the strand-line — the highest extent of the waves — larger sediments begin to stabilise. On these, thousands of tons of seaweed are deposited each year to rot down and leach a fecund cocktail of nutrients. Even in the driest summers, this fertile strip gets a steady supply of fresh water seeping from the land, making the foreshore prime real estate for well-adapted plants. I still gasp with surprise each spring at sea-kale plants larger than sheep growing from what looks like nothing but windswept pebbles.

Look out for scurvy grass on the strandline of shingle and rocky shores: it was so named because it was harvested by sailors, then dried or salted down to help stave off the disease on long voyages. It is a member of the brassica family, with a pungent, mustardy flavour. In spring, the flowers have a relatively mild taste and are good as a garnish or scattered through salads. In summer, all but the sheerest, most austere coastal rock faces become implausibly festooned with colourful blossoms hanging from every crack and ledge, bending with the wind, like a dancing, vertical garden.

It goes without saying that these can be dangerous places for foragers with their eye on a prize; fatal accidents were common enough in Shakespeare’s day for him to describe the harvesting of rock samphire (Crithmum maritimum) as a ‘dreadful trade’ in King Lear. Wild thyme (Thymus), which thrives in craggy outcrops near the sea, is magical when its scent drifts in summer and its small pink flowers turn rocks into aromatic cushions. No wonder it has long been regarded as a favourite flower of fairies; bees love it, too. Snip the creeping stems or pinch out the flowers, leaving plenty on each plant. Try pushing sprigs under the skin of a chicken with butter before roasting or tucking them into the belly cavity of fish before baking. It is a delightful addition to mushroom dishes, a natural partner for most fruits and is particularly happy alongside lemon. To preserve it, infuse it into oil, alcohol, honey or vinegar or add it to herb butter, which can be frozen.

Seaweed has had a bit of an image problem around the North Atlantic; even its name dismisses it as a nuisance. Foraging is a wonderful, rewarding way of entering into a wider appreciation of it, as well as topping up your levels of vitamins A, C, B12 and calcium: seaweeds are the most highly mineralised vegetables on Earth. Harvest only living, healthy specimens that are still attached to rocks in clean water and, using a sharp knife or scissors, cut only up to the top one-third of each plant. Many varieties may be used as seasoning, dehydrated and ground into flakes or powder, then added to recipes or sprinkled like salt (chips benefit especially from this treatment).

The crisp texture of sea lettuce, sea spaghetti, mermaid’s tresses, wrack, dabberlocks and kelp makes them ideal for pickling. Laver (Porphyra), the Welsh delicacy that, under its Japanese name, nori, is wrapped around rice, is the wild food with the largest gulf between how it looks (melted bin bags) and how it tastes (rich, satisfying umami).

How to forage legally and responsibly? I differentiate between these because, if you stick only to the law, it’s still possible to be an irresponsible and inconsiderate forager. Laws vary widely, but, in most parts of the world, if you are legally allowed to be somewhere, you will be within your legal rights to gather the ‘four Fs’ — fruit, flowers, foliage and fungi — provided they are not being grown deliberately. If you intend to uproot anything you should seek the landowner’s permission.

Try to recognise the uniqueness of each species and how it contributes to its wider ecosystem, then harvest (or not) in a way that is sensitive and appropriate to its location. For example, sea buckthorn growing in one location may be considered a troublesome non-native species that you are encouraged to pick, whereas in another it may be important for stabilising sand dunes or as a food source for over-wintering birds.

This feature originally appeared in the April 8, 2026 issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.