"Before we do anything else," says Fergus Drennan, "guess what this is made of." He reaches into a wicker basket and pulls out what looks like a fruit tart. I bite into it.
"Rhubarb?" I say, suspecting correctly that this would be far too obvious.
"I knew you'd say that," he says. "It's not rhubarb. Have another guess.'
"Wild rhubarb?" I say.
"Nope," says Fergus. "I'll put you out of your misery. It's Japanese knotweed."
"Isn't that a horrible, invasive weed?" I say, looking at my tart suspiciously.
"Depends what you mean by weed," says Fergus. "Eat up."
Fergus is a professional forager. Take him to a beach, a wood or a bit of waste ground, and the chances are he could rustle up several square meals from it. It's a remarkable skill and, today, Fergus has promised to initiate me.
I couldn't wish for a better guide. Fergus has been foraging since he was a child. Now, he runs his own business, Wildman Wild Food, which sells his foraged produce at farmers' markets and to an increasing number of restaurants. Wild food, it seems, is an idea whose time may have come.
As we drive through the Kentish countryside to our first destination, Fergus explains his passion to me. "We're so cut off now," he says. "Very few people understand the land. But once you do, you start to appreciate the place you live in, and feel part of it.…
Sent in by Lew Lewandowski