On a camping trip when I was in high school I ate a bunch of bunchberries, Cornus canadensis. It is a common groundcover found in the northern woods of Michigan. The edible wild book that I had said they would sustain you. This was true. It was bland but it was edible.

Through my camping experiences I found many of the shrub dogwoods had a similar type of texture and flavor. As I started growing the silky dogood, Cornus ammom, in my nursery for wildlife use, I had heard about a culinary type of dogwood used for food for generations in central Europe called the Cornelian cherry, Cornus mas.  It was of great interest to me to hear about the cherry-sized fruits used historically the same way sour cherries are used today. Where would I find such a tree already fruiting? It was not a common tree in the nursery industry and no examples could be found in any landscapes I was familiar with.

Not long afterwards, I found you could easily spot it in March with its faint golden yellowish green flowers when nothing else was flowering. It often flowered before forsythia.  This plant was used in many of the older homes in the city as well as some college campuses. My experience of the plant changed when I happened to be in the older part of town and noticed several large cornelian cherries fruiting surrounded by a parking lot and a sidewalk. Here I could taste the ‘wild’ cornelian cherry.  The extreme tartness was something to appreciate much like the high vitamin C acerola berries that are used in supplements. Two major roads in downtown Kalamazoo, Michigan intersect there and the red stains on the cement were clearly visible at the stop light. I knocked on a few doors and got permission to collect and sweep the parking lot. It was a non-profit organization who rented the home, and no one would park their cars underneath the plants during fruit drop. For me it was a glorious mess.  Now I could obtain fresh seeds and eat plenty of the fruit while picking away. Normally I would just suck on them like throat lozenges one at a time.  I would then process the bulk of the fruit back at my nursery for seeds for planting. I even hand picked some fresh fruit for my jam making. The high pectin fruit would make a dense spread rich in red color and flavor.  People spoke highly of it despite its acidic nature.

If the light was red at the corner, people really stared at our fruit shenanigans. Sometimes we would climb up the trees a little and shake the fruits on a tarp below or use pole pruners to release the fruits. It rained fruits at times because the yields were significant on these old trees.  Then we would sweep up the mess with push brooms. Since it was an area with international students, occasionally someone would yell out from their car, “We have this in my country” or “I know what this is.” As if it was a secret handshake to a world of unknown flavors, the cornelian cherry spoke to people who wanted to let me know their connection to the plant. Several people stopped by on the sidewalk and I would ask if they would like a taste. I was happy to see their expression on their faces. Students from Iran, Hungary and China all knew the fruit. Not everyone liked it in the fresh state but smiles erupted despite the tartness. It was the ‘cornel’ dogwood. Dried, made into drinks, compotes, and olives it was collected and harvested the same way tart cherries are used in Michigan. Because of the chart-topping Vitamin C and tartaric acid, it was like a sweet tart candy on a tree.  

The Cornus mas was a forgotten fruit plant and was only remembered as an early flowering ornamental plant in North America. It fell into the forsythia camp of spring flowers. Few knew about the fruit let alone how to make something delicious from it. When the plantings at my farm started fruiting, I would often make jam and offer taste testing at the farm shows I was displaying at. Processed with sweeteners, it became a whole new fruit. Once made into jam, syrup or salsa the fruit became known again as worth growing even on a small scale. Today those trees on that corner in the city are long gone. They were replaced with less obtrusive bushy tufts of native bunch grass, daylilies and stone. The parking lot is not stained red anymore. The cement painting done by the Cornel has been erased by time.

 I too know that fruit. We have this in my country.

Enjoy. Kenneth Asmus