Things Alexis Nikole Nelson Has Said on Podcasts

“People love suggesting literally everything else except for just turning a bunch of hungry hippies loose. That's what I want to do with Japanese knotweed too. Just be like, have you just told your 10 crunchiest friends that this is edible?” — Alexis Nikole Nelson, Seattle Eats

During audience questions about what to forage around Seattle, Nelson gets to the invasive Himalayan blackberry, which she calls bad but tasty. Her proposal is to eat it into submission.

Seattle Eats · 2026-10-01 Permalink → Listen →

Seattle Eats Around 37:37 into the episode

Speaker 4

available wherever you get your podcasts.

Brandi Fullwood

Okay, we're back. This live show was packed, and it was time to turn to the many audience questions. After Alexis took a dig at the quality of Washington State service berries, I went to a question about what she might like to forage in Seattle instead. What are some of the native plants out here in Seattle you're hoping to find? I'm not just like

Alexis Nikole Nelson

dunking here in your Western service berry species. It's a pivot. Listen, it's okay because you guys have like a million other delicious berries that can like easily take their place. The birds couldn't have the service berries. I did used to get very confused when followers from the western side of the country would be like, you keep going on and on about these amalankier species. And I ate one and it was fine. And before I had done extensive foraging on this side of the country, I was just like, well, I guess this person's dumb. Wow. You know, and that's okay. And then I was hiking in Glacier last year and I came across a wild service berry. I was like, oh, what a mitzvah. This is so exciting. A service berry. Yum. And y'all, it was just okay. I mean, thank goodness I never responded to that person. A couple of years back, because I would have gone to find it. It would have eaten me alive. It would have kept me up at night. But you guys also have like huckleberries out the wazoo. That's very nice. We love that. We have one huckleberry species in Ohio, and no one's ever heard of it, even though its genus name is Gay Lusatia. That's amazing. Come on, Ohio, get it together. You guys also have, in my opinion, the best kept secret in the Pacific Northwest, which is thimbleberries. Once on the internet, someone tried to tell me thimbleberries are like mealy and gross, and now I know they were just trying to hoard all of the thimbleberries. You will not fool me. I am goofy enough to try every edible thing once. Thimbleberries are so good. I get why the bears are filling up on them during the summertime. The only time I've ever seen a grizzly bear was when I was gathering thimbleberries. And I looked up and I was like, ooh, he's also gathering thimbleberries. Easy come, easy go. And then I just like faded back into the foliage like Homer Simpson in that gift. Just the delicious scourge that is the Himalayan blackberry. Yes, yes. Tough because bad, but also tasty. Maybe eat into submission. People love suggesting literally everything else except for just like turning a bunch of hungry hippies loose. Like that's what I want to do with Japanese knotweed too. Just be like, have you just told your 10 crunchiest friends that this is edible?

Brandi Fullwood

They make great chips.

Alexis Nikole Nelson

In one of my favorite parts back home, Japanese knotweed was starting to become an issue. And I was just like, and what if this was the only thing I was allowed to forage in the park? And the friends at the park were like, we can run a trial. And that patch is getting smaller.

Brandi Fullwood

What is one of the worst tasting things you've ever foraged?

Speaker names from our own diarization · position estimated from where the line sits in the episode

“Foraging historically has been something to get you through lean times, not a reason to go and participate in more mass consumption.” — Alexis Nikole Nelson, Seattle Eats

At a live show, Nelson is asked why she calls herself a "filthy vegan" in her book. She ends up on why she tells viewers not to buy anything new for her recipes and to use what is already in the fridge.

Seattle Eats · 2026-10-01 Permalink → Listen →

Seattle Eats Around 21:12 into the episode

Alexis Nikole Nelson

yeah, that one, you have to do a little bit of planning. Oh my god, I never finished the spring dish involving things that you guys could find here. For the one person who's like, no, finish what you were saying about the cow parsnip. I found morels, cow parsnip leaves, and a whole bunch of stinging nettle. Actually, stinging nettles amazing. It was actually its cousin wood nettle, which I don't think you guys have out here. But you can use them interchangeably, and they both hurt a lot if you're not paying attention. And I took those home and I made first, I made a pan bread flavored with the cow parsnip leaves, and then I used that pan bread as the base for a pizza. And the sauce on the pizza was a stinging nettle and pine nut pesto with roasted buttery morels. Fake butter, no angry vegans because it was fake butter. And with buttery morels on top. And then I brought it to a friend's party, but I made a mistake because I was like one of the oldest people there. These are all infants. They were born after 9-11. They're infants to me. And they all were like, sick, this is a really good pizza and ate it so fast without even considering the things that were in it. And I was like, how dare you eat my food without pondering it? It's fine. One person at the party did approach me later and they're like, that dish you brought was really good. Like, can you write that recipe down for me? No. No, I cannot, but I can tell you a story. And he did write down what I said. And he sent me a selfie of him with cow parsnip in the woods a week later. And I was like, yes, Chad. One of us. So

Brandi Fullwood

if you don't know, Alexis is a vegan, but in the book, you call yourself a filthy vegan. What does that mean? Is it good? First of all,

Alexis Nikole Nelson

I do refer to myself as a filthy vegan. And I will admittedly say that did come from a place of gentle self-deprecation. Because you, I mean, I don't know, is anyone else in here a vegan? Dozens of us. You know that thing where it's a food situation, so you like have to tell someone that you're vegan and you're kind of like dreading it a little bit because people have some associations with that word. And like there are definitely some people who are the reason why they have those associations with that word. But like you're not one of them. So now you're in an uncomfortable position. I think I've made it very clear in my content that I am aware that there are a lot of different ways to eat that are beneficial for the planet. And this is what I have chosen for the harm reduction that I feel comfortable doing and the life that I feel comfortable leading. I also have friends who are like, Deer hunters, because in Ohio, we have a problem with deer overpopulation. And when the population gets too big, it hurts the deer as well. And they're never hunting for sport, they're hunting to feed their families. And for them and their set of ideals, that's what they have decided they can do to give back to the ecosystem that gives all of us so much. But for me, and like the life that I can see myself leading, being vegan is what makes the most sense. And so it started as almost like an apology, which looking back feels weird and a little bit sad. And now it's become something that I really like proudly proclaiming in my videos. But I also like proudly proclaiming in my videos, like, don't go and buy something new for your fridge to make this recipe. You know, I also very frequently say, use what you got in your own fridge, honey, because that's what foraging is supposed to be doing for us. You know, foraging historically has been something to get you through lean times, not a reason to go and participate in more mass consumption.

Brandi Fullwood

I wanted to read a short little passage from your book. Since my ancestors gave so much of themselves to the work of cultivating relationships with the soil, the plants, and the signs of the seasons, some by choice and others not, it seems inevitable that I would feel most myself when I do the same. And you go on to say: a lot of what soothes the empty, the little empty space in my heart and mine, the space that I'd otherwise put the names and stories of my unknown ancestors, is placing some of those plants we have in common there instead. I mean, it's some of the first couple pages of the book, it's a really beautiful way to introduce yourself. And I wonder what that connection feels like for you, though? What does it mean to connect with your ancestors through foraging?

Alexis Nikole Nelson

Well, like a lot of people of color, and especially specifically black people here in the United States, you know, my family's history here has been a storied one. It's been one filled with a lot of tragedy on both sides of my family. I also exist at a crux where one line of my family is very well documented and was never enslaved, which then puts my dad's side of the family in such stark contrast. Where, you know, when I do, you know, work on our family genealogy, you hit that like 1870 census wall that so many of us do, because there were people with full, beautiful lives and feelings who were not considered human beings until, you know, on a census until that year. And it can feel like this kind of aching gnawing inside of you sometimes, this want to know, this want to even just have like a name to be able to trace back to. So it just feels like one of the things that I can do almost to pay homage and to say thank you to them is to also have some of this knowledge that they had. And additionally, on top of that, to use that knowledge to benefit myself and my family and my loved ones, which they were not necessarily always lucky enough to do or lucky enough to do under more livable conditions. And so for me, not only is foraging like a really meditative act, and not only does it make me feel more connected to my local ecosystem, you know, all of my not human neighbors, but it also just makes me feel a lot closer to all of the people who I'm made up of. And it's hard to know that there are so many names that I'm never going to know. And I guess if you go far back enough, that's what's true for all of us. But the other thing that's true is if you go far back enough, you'll find a forager in everybody's, everybody's lineage. You know, at some point in time, someone we're all related to has had to have that knowledge, has had to understand the seasons, has had to know what is poison and what's a snack in order for every single person in this room. To be here right now. And I love getting to stop and realize that. Or, you know, sometimes the time it usually hits me is when I'm like silently cleaning the things that I've brought home at the end of a day in the woods. And I'll like, I'll get really emotional about it sometimes. But it's beautiful and it's human. And if I can help even just like a handful of people have that same warm, fuzzy feeling because of the book, then you know, I did my job. Perfect. Awesome.

Brandi Fullwood

The warm, fuzzy feeling that I got opening your book, besides the connection to ancestry, is your chapter about magnolias.

Speaker names from our own diarization · position estimated from where the line sits in the episode

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