Every autumn, I really enjoy mentioning to people that I am harvesting and processing acorns for food.

It’s a lot of fun to observe the reactions that I get, which range from confused disbelief, to “aren’t they toxic to humans?” all the way over to “oh my god, how have I gone my whole life without ever knowing that you could do that?!”

Like most of my peers, I also knew nothing of eating acorns until well into adulthood. I studied plant taxonomy and ecology in college, and for all I learned about the Quercus genus, the fact that their nuts are easily rendered edible to humans somehow never came up.

Neither did we ever discuss the fact that humans all around the globe have consumed acorns as a staple in their diets since well before recorded history. For some indigenous peoples, like those of California where I currently reside, acorns could make up as much as half of their total caloric intake in a year. (M. Kat Anderson, Tending the Wild)

Why have we modern humans mostly abandoned the art of eating acorns? That’s a very complex question, as it turns out, that has everything to do with the history of colonization and imperialism. But I digress.

While the oak-dominated ecosystems that now surround us are but remnants of their former magnificence, countless species of oaks are still present in nearly every nook and cranny of the world’s temperate ecosystems, patiently awaiting the care and reverence that we once bestowed upon them.

Though some would have you believe that acorns are best left to the squirrels, I can promise you that your local stand of oaks will produce in such abundance most years that you can ethically gather a year’s supply for your household without harming the other acorn-eaters in your vicinity. In a good year, a single mature Valley Oak can produce up to 2,000 pounds (!!!) of acorns. That’s plenty for everybody.

Acorns are a gift, offered so freely and abundantly that it’s no wonder why entire belief systems have been constructed around the sacred nature of the oak.