I arrived at Velskov, about a forty minute drive outside of downtown Auckland, excited. Here, on a piece of land that was once pasture and is now – slowly – recovering as native forest, Mamakan Velskov treats visitors to a unique experience that she calls forest farming. She has planted 45 species of edible native plants here, and then allowed nature to take its course, with watering done by rain and new plants popping up as they naturally reproduce and spread. (She does remove weeds, especially those that are not New Zealand native sorts.) I was to be shown around her forest, and together, we were to collect things from which to make food.

I came here thinking we were going to be foraging much as the Maori would have. And while we did, and while that was incredible, this experience was so much more, so much deeper, so much more meaningful. This was not simply a connection to land and food. This was a connection to an idea, to a set of ideals, and to a sense of calm I hadn’t had in quite a while.

Upon arrival, I was greeted by Mamakan, and after talking to me just a bit about what we would be doing, she offered me a choice of saplings to name and plant together. She explained that in this way, each of her guests becomes a part of her forest. It’s a powerful beginning. I chose a tree for no other reason than it had pretty purple flowers, and put some thought into a name so that I’d have one by the time we planted at the end of the day.

As I was her only guest of the day – I found out that she wasn’t planning on having anyone, but agreed to host me as a favor to Tataki Auckland Unlimited, who arranged for this experience for me – the day went at my pace. That is to say, the day went leisurely, and was filled with talking, with laughing, with connecting. It is impossible to meet this woman, to talk to her for even a few minutes, and not come away inspired.

Mamakan has lived all over the world. From her birthplace in Denmark to Borneo, Singapore, Brazil, and more, she has devoted her life to three things: art/culture, food, and nature. She believes – and has the science to back it up – that we as humans are healthier when we eat directly from the land and in as wide a variety as possible, and that by doing so we become emotionally more grounded and appreciative. And while the form these passions have taken has changed (she had an art installation in Singapore about what she calls “gastrogeography”) her devotion to healthy bodies, healthy minds, and healthy ecosystems has never wavered. In Velskov here in New Zealand, she sees the culmination of her life’s work: inspiring forest farming here and around the world.

Over the course of about four hours together, we tasted her forest. The nuts of the karaka tree are naturally poisonous, but by treating them properly the poison is removed, meaning the peel of the nut can be made into a syrup that sweetens our morning coffee, and the nut can be added whole into that hot drink to soften and eat after. (It tastes sort of like a walnut and I bet it would make an excellent pesto.)

We ate tumm together for breakfast, a smoothie of literally dozens of nuts and seeds and whatever fruits are in season, topping it with edible flowers (including those from my tree), nuts, and fresh fruit. Some of the ingredients were grown right here; others are sourced from other places, but all are local and natural.

For Mamakan, her experience is all about sharing, and being present together. She sits with her guests, and encourages them to help with all that needs to be done for the meals (breakfast and lunch). By the time I left, I had chopped and sliced various food ingredients, helped build a fire (I even chopped our firewood, shockingly), and assembled our fish wrapped in rangiora leaves picked from a plant just steps away from Velskov’s outdoor kitchen space.

That fish was a highlight, made with a salsa of garlic, shallots, and several different leaves we picked together. I made sure to taste each one individually, and was amazed by the forwardness of some of the spice levels. We added herbs to our fire for more flavor, and then sat together to eat and to talk.

It’s hard to put into words what I felt, but let me try. While it was just Mamakan and myself at the table, we were not alone. Here with the forest, among the trees, we were surrounded by friends. We shared traditions from my culture (Judaism), hers (Norse), and local (Maori) of planting trees to commemorate special occasions. We spoke of the beauty in the world, and how to preserve it. We talked of the need to ensure that knowledge of native plants is passed down. And we discussed how much modern society needs to make sure we don’t forget how to do things, to create things, to grow things. Two people, but the voices of the forest participated as well.

Finally it was time to plant my tree, a New Zealand hebe tree. Mamakan asked if I’d named it. I had. In early April, a dear friend, Elianna Friedman, passed away suddenly. Elianna dedicated her life to the very things Velskov tries to teach. She took schoolchildren to farms so they could learn about food, and created learning programs around California farmers markets. She ran food banks, believing that her life was meant to be spent giving back.

Tears in my eyes, I planted my tree, naming her Elianna. She sits along the main path up to Velskov’s communal area, where she and her beauty will greet those who come to learn how abundant this world can be, and how we can feed ourselves and each other from it.

Mamakan and I shared one final cup of tea – yes, made from leaves picked from one of her trees – and a hug, and then it was time for me to go. I came here to Velskov, just a few brief minutes from Auckland, expecting to have fun. I expected to enjoy my time, to eat well, to learn. But this was so so much more.

I left changed. I left having eaten the forest, but I also left having a bit of me – and of my friend – stay behind. Together, we (Mamakan, Elianna, and I) joined with the forest for the briefest of moments, but created a connection that will outlast this experience, and our very lives.

The forest is a magical place, and this one is especially magical, because this one holds a piece of not only me, but everyone who has come before and those who will come after. Each tree is named, and has been planted with the same love and emotion that Elianna was. And their abundance will be shared for generations.

Mamakan calls it forest farming. I call it the essence of life.

Thank you to Tataki Auckland Unlimited and to Velskov for one of the most meaningful experiences I’ve had. This will stay with me forever.

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