Eat your brownfields greens

There can be no cuter way to cut your grocery bill than "picking up pawpaws, put 'em in a basket." Unless, perhaps, you're collecting that wild produce on the banks of a sewage leak.

I have a story on urban foraging in The Sun this week. "The City That Breeds," a blog devoted to "the dumber side of Baltimore," linked to it under this inspired headline:

"Urban Foraging in Baltimore: or, Hey, this Superfundberry tastes great!"

"Look, people, I’m no fascist, hippy-killing, factory-farm loving capitalist, but I’ve seen the quasi-legal things Baltimoreans routinely throw on the ground," the blogger writes. "That stuff gets into the ground and stays there. Don’t we have a super-fund site in the city that corresponds roughly to the size of the city?"

Lest you think my foraging article painted too quaint a picture of Baltimore, please note that it describes a forager in Herring Run Park steering clear of anything growing close to the water because of frequent sewer leaks. And I noted that certain city parks are "better known as murder-victim dumping grounds than locavore playgrounds."

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