Acorns are the new superfood

Mighty oaks grow from little acorns. So too, apparently, do weird trends. The squirrels of South Korea can testify, because they are being forced to compete for their winter staple, acorns, by an unusual rival: humans.

So greedy are the humans, that the squirrels are in danger of starving. According to The Wall Street Journal, the newly formed Acorn Rangers of Seoul’s Yonsei University are now protecting the local oaks from would-be acorn pickers.

The consequence of the media furore, is that ever more people around the world have become alerted to the nutritional value of acorns.

Earlier this year, a study published in the Journal of Nutritional Biochemistry showed that carbohydrate molecules isolated from acorns seemed to have promising effects on mice.

The researchers, who work at the Wake Forest School of Medicine, North Carolina, reported that feeding the fibres to the mice seemed to improve the relationship between the creatures’ guts and brains, ‘‘and hence could be useful in preventing/treating diet-induced obesity and T2D’’, meaning Type 2 diabetes.

As human and mouse gut microbiota digest these fibres, they produce the short-chain fatty acids that have, in other research, been linked to good heart health and lower rates of cancer.

Acorns, it seems, are the scourge of obesity, the enemy of diabetes, the mortal foe of cancer. No wonder acorns have undergone the cultural equivalent of dashing into a phone box and putting on a cape. They have gone from food to superfood.

But what do you do with them? Do you eat them raw? Do you get on your hands and knees and snuffle them up like a boar?

Miles Irving, author of The Forager Handbook, presenter of the WorldWild podcast and supplier of wild food to top UK restaurants, says acorns ‘‘are a very nutritious food, and madly, they’re a food that goes to waste’’.

He explains that acorns have a small amount of ‘‘quality oil’’, ‘‘a good lot of protein and lots of polyphenols, which we don’t get enough of, and minerals’’.

Their good nutrition and their easy availability, Irving adds, prompted pre-agricultural societies across the world to make them a staple of their diets. We started farming, and acorns became a food for lean times, then a food for pigs, and then barely a food at all, until the recent craze.

Irving doesn’t recommend eating them raw. They’re not poisonous, but ‘‘you’d probably have a sore tummy if you ate loads of them’’.

Your discomfort would probably be caused by tannins, which are biomolecules that bind themselves to nutrients and thus usher those nutrients out of the body without our getting their benefit.

An easy way to get rid of tannins is to roast them. Irving has chopped roasted acorns into bits and put them in rice pudding with some raisins. They introduce ‘‘a sort of almost smoky , almost toffee flavour’’. He got the idea, he says, from the chef David Everitt-Mathias, who had learnt about acorn coffee – in which you roast acorns, grind them, and make a hot drink – and subsequently experimented with acorns in desserts.

The other way to get the tannins out is by leaching. Simply put your shelled, chopped acorns in a bowl of water or hot water if they are whole, leave them to settle for 12 hours, and repeat the process two or three times until the water is clear.

Dry them out, says Irving, and ‘‘you’ve got a meal or flour that you can use for baking’’.

He added some wheat flour to give the mixture some gluten, and made some pancakes. ‘‘They are more like a flatbread than a pancake, really. Quite a solid texture, but really delicious.’’

As for the South Koreans, they mash the acorns and boil the starch into a dense brown jelly, called dotori muk, which is served with soy sauce and scallions.

You can even buy acorn noodles. In fact, taking Irving’s recipes into account, you could make a perfectly edible threecourse meal with acorns. Think of the health benefit.

One of the most interesting elements is that oaks provide a very high yield of acorns, which, per acre, compares well with grains, without depleting the soil of nutrients in the way that arable farming does.

Perhaps acorns really could be a food of the future, then, provided we leave enough for the squirrels and enough for the oaks to keep reproducing. It might not be so nuts after all.

Acorns have undergone the cultural equivalent of dashing into a phone box and putting on a cape.