For State by State Gardening magazine
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
If you drive through any small town across America you will find either, or both, Mexican and a variety of Asian restaurants. Where once it was only burgers and pizza, or fried chicken and mashed potatoes, now you have choices of Indian, Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese, Guatemalan or Mexican restaurants.
Each of these ethnic foods have a different set of flavors, of traditional herbs that are used for seasoning. Where our grandma used only a few herbs - sage, rosemary, thyme, maybe some horseradish, foods today rely on a completely new set of flavors.
Even the "all you can eat" Chinese buffet, does not rely on parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme for its flavors.
There are lots of new and exciting plants coming in to the marketplace that are of interest to the home gardener. Eating habits have changed and when food fashions change and restaurants begin offering new flavors, gardeners want to grow those seasoning plants in their own gardens. What that means for gardeners is that we are developing a taste for interesting, new flavors that do not include the older, more ordinary European herbs we were used to. Instead, these flavorful ethnic foods rely on herbs such as curry leaf, cilantro, kaiffir lime leaf, lemongrass, cumin, cardamom, a vast range of basils, fiery peppers and herbs that grow in the water garden.
Nurseries and garden centers follow trends and begin offering plants their customers request. Ten years ago lots of garden centers weren't offering herbs at all and now just about all of them have a section on herbs, simply because their customers asked for those plants. Here are three new herbs you might like to grow this coming season, with sources for where to find them.
1 - Green Pepper Basil (Ocimum selloi). This very attractive and unusual herb was first collected by Dr. Dennis Breedlove in Chiapas, Mexico, a dozen or so years ago. Records of its use date back to the Aztecs, who used the plant for medicine as well as seasoning. Several characteristics makes this basil unique. First, it's a robust, dark green with shiny leaves and will withstand cooler temperatures than other basils. It blooms continuously throughout the summer and fall with attractive lavender to purple flower spikes, and unlike other basils, the blooming and seed setting do not stop leaf production. (Most basils require some pruning to keep up good leaf production).
Second, the flavor is a pleasant combination of both sweet, bell pepper, and spicy basil. It's delicious in a variety of dishes, including corn soup and stir fried dishes. As an added bonus, the plant is an attractive landscape or patio plant and holds up well in hot weather. From my experience in growing green pepper basil, it also doesn't easily cross with other basils. I generally grow about eight varieties together in my herb bed. This is a very good addition to your herb garden! Source (plants): Nichols Garden Nursery, 800-422-3985 and www.nicholsgardennursery.com.
2- Vietnamese Cilantro, also known as Vietnames coriander and Ra Rom (Polygonum odoratum). You either love cilantro or you hate it. Admittedly it's an acquired taste, but if you enjoy salsa and chips, or any number of Asian or Mexican foods, cilantro is a necessary ingredient and this is an excellent, and easy, cilantro to grow. The standard cilantro (Coriandrum sativum) is a cool season plant, thriving in weather that's too cool for growing most garden plants. Try and grow this standard cilantro between May and September in the South and you will fail, which is why this new herb is so important. It loves Southern summers! The hotter the weather, the more humidity, the happier this plant becomes. The flavor has a lemon, coriander, curry taste and fragrance. In its native Vietnam, it grows in the marshes and my friends who grow it commercially for the restaurant trade, grow it in low, hot, humid greenhouses all summer long.
Vietnamese cilantro requires full sun and lots of moisture. In fact, it will grow in a partially submerged pot at the edge of a water garden, or in regular garden soil if kept consistently damp. However, there is one caution about eating this herb. It's necessary to keep the plant harvested regularly as the young leaves and shoots have the best flavor. If you allow the plant to ramble, then when you taste the leaves, the flavor is quite different and not totally pleasant. Like most herbs, the more you harvest the plant, the better the flavor! Use the leaves of this plant in the same way you use any other variety of cilantro. I like it in a salsa of ripe peaches or mangoes, some lime juice, a jalapeno pepper chopped, a bit of green onion and two or three leaves of Vietnamese cilantro chopped. Mixed and served with chips, it's a great afternoon appetizer. Source (plants): Richters Herbs, 1-905-640-6677 and at www.richters.com.
3- Kaffir lime (Citrus hystrix) is another interesting new plant to grow. If you like to cook Asian dishes, there is no really good substitute for the flavor of this plant. Kaffir lime is a necessary ingredient in Tom Yum soup (meaning hot and sour) and Tom Kha Kai (Tom means soup, in Thai). It's a citrus and should be grown like any dwarf orange or lemon and is easily started from seed or cutting. Be prepared for thorns, like other citrus plants. Easily grown in containers indoors or on the patio, the desirable part of this plant are its shiny, dark green, hour-glass shaped leaves. In Thai dishes one or two leaves are simply torn up and dropped into a dish as it cooks, or in some recipes the leaf is rolled up tight and sliced very thin and added to Thai salads. The leaves have a very pleasant, lime fragrance and flavor. Give the plant full sun in summer and bring it indoors in winter. It's an easy and attractive plant for the patio. Source: Seed available from Baker Creek Seed, P.O. Box 70, Mansfield, MO 65704; 417-924-1222 or www.rareseeds.com, and plants from Nichols Garden Nursery, 800-422-3985 or www.nicholsgardennursery.com.
If you are an adventurous cook and like experimenting with new flavors, you will enjoy these new herbs and they will be an excellent addition to your herb garden.
Jim long has written over 20 books on herbs and gardening. You can find more plant information, recipes and views of his garden on his website at www.Longcreekherbs.com.
8/22/2006
Dill - It's Not Just Pickles!
For State by State Gardening magazine
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
When you mention the word, "dill" most people think immediately of dill pickles. And while it's true, a cucumber in vinegar without dill is just a sour cucumber, dill is good for so many things beyond making pickles. You may have noticed that dill is used by florists for that fluffy, airy filler in summer bouquets. And that dill flowers, on their substantial stems, hold up really well as a cut flower and are sold through wholesale florist supply houses.
When I was in India doing research for a writing project, I was surprised to find dill being used in a variety of dishes. I had always associated dill with northern European foods, but it's a staple of Indian foods, although you're not likely to find a dill pickle in that country. There is is also considered a mildly medicinal herb, used as an aid for digestion and for preventing flatulence.
There are several kinds of dill and each one grows a bit differently and has different uses. For example, if you are growing dill for bouquets, the variety, 'Vierling' is the best to grow. It offers a striking combination of steel blue foliage and brilliant chartreuse blooms. It has very strong stems , grows three to four feet tall, and blooms early.
But if you want more leaves than flowers, the variety, 'Fernleaf' is a better choice. It has compact plants with multiple branches. It's shorter, growing only about eighteen inches high and is slow to bloom. You'll find 'Fernleaf' listed as 'Slow-bolt' in some catalogs.
Another dill that is slow to bloom is 'Dukat.' If you plan on using primarly the flavorful leaves more than the seed heads, then you will want a slow bolting variety so that you have dill weed for a longer period of time.
'Dukat' is one of the better dill varieties to dry for dill weed. Dry it in a warm, airy place, without light. An attic works, so does a food dehydrator, but don't use the microwave which will evaporate the plant's essential oils, which is where the flavor is.
The most common dill grown in most people's gardens is a variety usually sold as 'Bouquet." It produces harvestable leaves in about 50 days from planting and has seed for pickling use, in about 85-90 days. This one grows about thirty six inches high and blooms a bit earlier than the slow-bolt varieties.
How is dill grown? In the South you can plant dill seed in late fall or early winter. It's a cool season plant, so if the seed is planted early, it will germinate and grow when the conditions are best. Dill doesn't transplant well. While you can transplant it, the transplant never thrives as well as a seed that is planted where it will grow to maturity.
As soon as hot weather hits, dill begins going to seed. If you want dill weed over a longer period of time, it's best to do successive plantings through the spring, and to plant more than one variety. Try as you will, though, dill won't grow in the hottest part of summer.
Here's one of my favorite salads which uses fresh dill (called "dill weed.")
2 medium cucumbers, peeled, seeded and cut in 1 inch pieces 2 cups, pineapple tidbits 1/2 cup sour cream 1/4 cup fresh dill leaf, diced slightly
Combine ingredients, mixing, then chill for at least an hour before serving. Serve 1/2 cup servings on top of lettuce leaves with a fresh dill leaf on top.
Another easy recipe using dill is this dill dip:
Dill Dip
1 cup sour cream 1/2 cup mayonnaise, like Hellman's 2-3 drops Tobasco or similar hot sauce 2 drops Worchestershire sauce 1/4 cup fresh dill weed, chopped fine (or 1/8 cup dry) 2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Combine ingredients and mix well. Chill for at least an hour, or overnight. Serve as a dip for fresh vegetables or chips.
Dill & Tomato Sandwich Spread one slice of bread with any good mayonnaise Spread the other slice of bread with a thick layer of whipped cream cheese Put a generous layer of fresh dill leaves over the cream cheese Top with sliced, ripe tomatoes, a lettuce leaf and thinly sliced cucumber.
Sources Nichols Garden Nurrsery 1190 Old Salem Rd., NE Albany, OR 97321 www.nicholsgardennursery.com
Johnny's Selected Seed www.johnnyseeds.com
Pinetree Garden Seeds P.O. Box 300 New Gloucester, ME 04260 www.superseeds.com
Richters Herbs Goodwood, Ontario LOC 1AO Canada www.Richters.com
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
When you mention the word, "dill" most people think immediately of dill pickles. And while it's true, a cucumber in vinegar without dill is just a sour cucumber, dill is good for so many things beyond making pickles. You may have noticed that dill is used by florists for that fluffy, airy filler in summer bouquets. And that dill flowers, on their substantial stems, hold up really well as a cut flower and are sold through wholesale florist supply houses.
When I was in India doing research for a writing project, I was surprised to find dill being used in a variety of dishes. I had always associated dill with northern European foods, but it's a staple of Indian foods, although you're not likely to find a dill pickle in that country. There is is also considered a mildly medicinal herb, used as an aid for digestion and for preventing flatulence.
There are several kinds of dill and each one grows a bit differently and has different uses. For example, if you are growing dill for bouquets, the variety, 'Vierling' is the best to grow. It offers a striking combination of steel blue foliage and brilliant chartreuse blooms. It has very strong stems , grows three to four feet tall, and blooms early.
But if you want more leaves than flowers, the variety, 'Fernleaf' is a better choice. It has compact plants with multiple branches. It's shorter, growing only about eighteen inches high and is slow to bloom. You'll find 'Fernleaf' listed as 'Slow-bolt' in some catalogs.
Another dill that is slow to bloom is 'Dukat.' If you plan on using primarly the flavorful leaves more than the seed heads, then you will want a slow bolting variety so that you have dill weed for a longer period of time.
'Dukat' is one of the better dill varieties to dry for dill weed. Dry it in a warm, airy place, without light. An attic works, so does a food dehydrator, but don't use the microwave which will evaporate the plant's essential oils, which is where the flavor is.
The most common dill grown in most people's gardens is a variety usually sold as 'Bouquet." It produces harvestable leaves in about 50 days from planting and has seed for pickling use, in about 85-90 days. This one grows about thirty six inches high and blooms a bit earlier than the slow-bolt varieties.
How is dill grown? In the South you can plant dill seed in late fall or early winter. It's a cool season plant, so if the seed is planted early, it will germinate and grow when the conditions are best. Dill doesn't transplant well. While you can transplant it, the transplant never thrives as well as a seed that is planted where it will grow to maturity.
As soon as hot weather hits, dill begins going to seed. If you want dill weed over a longer period of time, it's best to do successive plantings through the spring, and to plant more than one variety. Try as you will, though, dill won't grow in the hottest part of summer.
Here's one of my favorite salads which uses fresh dill (called "dill weed.")
2 medium cucumbers, peeled, seeded and cut in 1 inch pieces 2 cups, pineapple tidbits 1/2 cup sour cream 1/4 cup fresh dill leaf, diced slightly
Combine ingredients, mixing, then chill for at least an hour before serving. Serve 1/2 cup servings on top of lettuce leaves with a fresh dill leaf on top.
Another easy recipe using dill is this dill dip:
Dill Dip
1 cup sour cream 1/2 cup mayonnaise, like Hellman's 2-3 drops Tobasco or similar hot sauce 2 drops Worchestershire sauce 1/4 cup fresh dill weed, chopped fine (or 1/8 cup dry) 2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Combine ingredients and mix well. Chill for at least an hour, or overnight. Serve as a dip for fresh vegetables or chips.
Dill & Tomato Sandwich Spread one slice of bread with any good mayonnaise Spread the other slice of bread with a thick layer of whipped cream cheese Put a generous layer of fresh dill leaves over the cream cheese Top with sliced, ripe tomatoes, a lettuce leaf and thinly sliced cucumber.
Sources Nichols Garden Nurrsery 1190 Old Salem Rd., NE Albany, OR 97321 www.nicholsgardennursery.com
Johnny's Selected Seed www.johnnyseeds.com
Pinetree Garden Seeds P.O. Box 300 New Gloucester, ME 04260 www.superseeds.com
Richters Herbs Goodwood, Ontario LOC 1AO Canada www.Richters.com
Make Your Own Marshmallows!
For The Herb Companion magazine
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
In the part of my garden that has a sign marked, "Edible Flowers," I have a marshmallow plant (Althea officinalis) growing. Unlike most of the other edible flower plants I grow there, the marshmallow is grown to teach a point, rather than for it's flowers. The ordinary marshmallow plant isn't that showy, it gets leggy unless you prune it back half way in mid summer, and you could easily overlook the tiny, pale white-pink flowers completely. The fact is, this isn't a remarkable or noticeable plant at all.
But when I take visitors on tour of my various culinary and medicinal beds, on to my exotic vegetables and water plants, I like to end up at the edible flower beds. I let visitors sample the old rose variety I grow which is generally in bloom with tiny, hauntingly fragrant white flowers. It was a favorite of my mother's throughout her lifetime. I encourage the visitors to taste the tangy, tart begonias, the unfamiliar flavor of marigolds, the pungent sages, spicy dianthus, and the subtle pansies and basil blossoms. We talk about how well these flavors work in sorbets and iced desserts. Then we pause at the marshmallow and we talk about the origins of how things come to be.
"Like the marshmallow for example," I say, pointing to the leggy, fuzzy leafed plant. Can you look at this and imagine fluffy marshmallows?" If it's a children's group that I'm touring, I may have earlier stuck miniature marshmallows to the stems of the plant to make my point.
Explaining, "Here is where marshmallows first came from" often focuses the children's minds on the plant I am describing and they ask if all you have to do is harvest the marshmallows.
"Yes," I say. "See how the grow next to the stem?" and wait for someone to laugh at the silly idea.
But when you think about it, it really is amazing that anyone dreamed up that fluffy confection and it's only when you delve into the history of the plant do you come to see how plants, and food evolves with time.
The Althea plant was in use in ancient Egypt where it was used to make a honey-based condiment, thickened with the powdered Althea root and was used as a medicine for royalty, treating sore throats. Marshmallow plants made their way from Europe to the Americas, where they naturalized along the East Coast. In Europe, and later America, in the nineteenth century, doctors used the extracted juice from marsh mallow plants, cooking it with sugar and egg whites, then whipping it into a foamy meringue that became firm. The resulting candy was used to soothe the sore throats of children and adults alike. The juice of the althea, was used as a topical treatment for wounds and cuts, as well as a liquid ointment for throat problems.
By the early 1900s, gelatin had replaced Althea officinalis root in the recipe for marshmallows, making them commercially viable, but also eliminating the cough suppressing, potential immune system boosting and wound healing properties of this useful plant.
In case you missed it, this change was significant for reasons beyond medicinal. If you are vegetarian, eating a gelatin based product, such as a marshmallow, means you are eating gelatin, which comes from the boiled bones of pork and beef, as well as fresh frozen pigskins and cattle hides. You'll also find gelatin in chewing gum, cream cheese, sour cream, cake icing and the candy known as gummy bears. Gelatin is also found in the coating for pills, as well as in cosmetics, throat lozenges and ointments.
So upon closer look, it seems someone didn't just gaze upon the lowly marshmallow plant and have a light bulb moment, inventing the marshmallow. Instead, it was a useful medicinal plant, whose properties evolved into the popular fluffy candy we know today.
When I describe to my garden tours the process of extracting the juice of the marshmallow, it's even more amazing that someone ever made anything useful. The method as it was described to me is this. You dig up some marshmallow plants, replanting a few of the smaller pieces to grow new plants.
Scrub the roots, getting off the soil and dark outer peeling. Then the roots are pulverized in water, pounding them until it is just a mass. More water is added and stirred, then the sediment is allowed to settle to the bottom of the container.
The water is siphoned off, leaving the residue, which is dried and further pulverized. Finally the resulting powder is the part that is added to the sugar, beaten egg whites, vanilla and corn syrup and cooked, then poured into a pan that has been sprinkled with powdered sugar. After the marshmallow has set up, a moistened knife is used to cut the mallows into bite sized pieces and it is rolled in powdered sugar.
The juice of the marshmallow plant has been used medicinally for centuries. The bruised root exudes a mucilaginous sap, that was used for soothing burns and sore throats, it's stickiness coating the wound or sore and aiding in healing. It is this muciliginiousness that made the plant useful. Other plants related to althea include the more common hibiscus, okra and others, and each have some of these sticky juiced properties. (Okra, which came from Africa, was used medicinally, as well, although not for the exact same purposes).
Usually, though, tour groups don't get the full amount of background. Most people don't want that much information, especially children's groups. So my method is to simply perk their interest with the connection between the althea plant and marshmallows. Maybe some little tidbit will inspire a child to read more, or an adult to want to explore more about the histories of medicinal plants. While not every plant has something as visible as the marshmallow to catch someone's interest, most plants do have a history that is just as rich and colorful if we but pause to look.
Jim Long gardens in the Ozarks Mountains. His gardens are open by advance reservation only. Visit his website at www.Longcreekherbs.com.
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
In the part of my garden that has a sign marked, "Edible Flowers," I have a marshmallow plant (Althea officinalis) growing. Unlike most of the other edible flower plants I grow there, the marshmallow is grown to teach a point, rather than for it's flowers. The ordinary marshmallow plant isn't that showy, it gets leggy unless you prune it back half way in mid summer, and you could easily overlook the tiny, pale white-pink flowers completely. The fact is, this isn't a remarkable or noticeable plant at all.
But when I take visitors on tour of my various culinary and medicinal beds, on to my exotic vegetables and water plants, I like to end up at the edible flower beds. I let visitors sample the old rose variety I grow which is generally in bloom with tiny, hauntingly fragrant white flowers. It was a favorite of my mother's throughout her lifetime. I encourage the visitors to taste the tangy, tart begonias, the unfamiliar flavor of marigolds, the pungent sages, spicy dianthus, and the subtle pansies and basil blossoms. We talk about how well these flavors work in sorbets and iced desserts. Then we pause at the marshmallow and we talk about the origins of how things come to be.
"Like the marshmallow for example," I say, pointing to the leggy, fuzzy leafed plant. Can you look at this and imagine fluffy marshmallows?" If it's a children's group that I'm touring, I may have earlier stuck miniature marshmallows to the stems of the plant to make my point.
Explaining, "Here is where marshmallows first came from" often focuses the children's minds on the plant I am describing and they ask if all you have to do is harvest the marshmallows.
"Yes," I say. "See how the grow next to the stem?" and wait for someone to laugh at the silly idea.
But when you think about it, it really is amazing that anyone dreamed up that fluffy confection and it's only when you delve into the history of the plant do you come to see how plants, and food evolves with time.
The Althea plant was in use in ancient Egypt where it was used to make a honey-based condiment, thickened with the powdered Althea root and was used as a medicine for royalty, treating sore throats. Marshmallow plants made their way from Europe to the Americas, where they naturalized along the East Coast. In Europe, and later America, in the nineteenth century, doctors used the extracted juice from marsh mallow plants, cooking it with sugar and egg whites, then whipping it into a foamy meringue that became firm. The resulting candy was used to soothe the sore throats of children and adults alike. The juice of the althea, was used as a topical treatment for wounds and cuts, as well as a liquid ointment for throat problems.
By the early 1900s, gelatin had replaced Althea officinalis root in the recipe for marshmallows, making them commercially viable, but also eliminating the cough suppressing, potential immune system boosting and wound healing properties of this useful plant.
In case you missed it, this change was significant for reasons beyond medicinal. If you are vegetarian, eating a gelatin based product, such as a marshmallow, means you are eating gelatin, which comes from the boiled bones of pork and beef, as well as fresh frozen pigskins and cattle hides. You'll also find gelatin in chewing gum, cream cheese, sour cream, cake icing and the candy known as gummy bears. Gelatin is also found in the coating for pills, as well as in cosmetics, throat lozenges and ointments.
So upon closer look, it seems someone didn't just gaze upon the lowly marshmallow plant and have a light bulb moment, inventing the marshmallow. Instead, it was a useful medicinal plant, whose properties evolved into the popular fluffy candy we know today.
When I describe to my garden tours the process of extracting the juice of the marshmallow, it's even more amazing that someone ever made anything useful. The method as it was described to me is this. You dig up some marshmallow plants, replanting a few of the smaller pieces to grow new plants.
Scrub the roots, getting off the soil and dark outer peeling. Then the roots are pulverized in water, pounding them until it is just a mass. More water is added and stirred, then the sediment is allowed to settle to the bottom of the container.
The water is siphoned off, leaving the residue, which is dried and further pulverized. Finally the resulting powder is the part that is added to the sugar, beaten egg whites, vanilla and corn syrup and cooked, then poured into a pan that has been sprinkled with powdered sugar. After the marshmallow has set up, a moistened knife is used to cut the mallows into bite sized pieces and it is rolled in powdered sugar.
The juice of the marshmallow plant has been used medicinally for centuries. The bruised root exudes a mucilaginous sap, that was used for soothing burns and sore throats, it's stickiness coating the wound or sore and aiding in healing. It is this muciliginiousness that made the plant useful. Other plants related to althea include the more common hibiscus, okra and others, and each have some of these sticky juiced properties. (Okra, which came from Africa, was used medicinally, as well, although not for the exact same purposes).
Usually, though, tour groups don't get the full amount of background. Most people don't want that much information, especially children's groups. So my method is to simply perk their interest with the connection between the althea plant and marshmallows. Maybe some little tidbit will inspire a child to read more, or an adult to want to explore more about the histories of medicinal plants. While not every plant has something as visible as the marshmallow to catch someone's interest, most plants do have a history that is just as rich and colorful if we but pause to look.
Jim Long gardens in the Ozarks Mountains. His gardens are open by advance reservation only. Visit his website at www.Longcreekherbs.com.
Eat More Parsley - It's GOOD for You!
For The Herb Companion, Spring, 2006
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
I was sitting in a restaurant recently, when I overheard a conversation between a five year old boy and his mother. The boy asked, "Mummie, what's this green thing on my plate?"
I looked over to see what he was inquiring about and saw a plate of fried chicken nuggets. Next to that was a plate of half-eaten child's size pancakes and a glass of soda.
The mother said, "Oh, that's just parsley, it's for decoration, not something you eat."
Never mind it was the only fresh, healthy food on their plates. But to teach a child that parsley's not edible!
However, most people don't think much of parsley today. It's that little piece of green fluff on top of the grilled salmon. It's the green leaves scattered around sliced meats and cheeses on an appetizer tray. It is, in today's world, basically an herb that has been relegated to being just decoration.
But the Romans, and the Greeks before them, used parsley in great quantities and looked upon parsley as an essential herb, recognizing its individual flavor in foods. The Greeks held parsley in high esteem and made wreathes of it and used them in celebrations as gifts to the gods. The Romans looked upon parsley as important in keeping away drunkenness, and so, exotic salads of parsley with rose petals and violets were eaten at the great banquets to ward off inebriation.
Fresh parsley has a flavor of its own, which makes it useful in cooking, although dried parsley has virtually no flavor. Curly leaf parsley (Petroselinum crispum) has pleasant flavor, but flat leaf, or Italian parsley (Petroselinum neapolitanum) has an honest, more robust, flavor that is perfect in soups, salads, salad dressings, gremolatas and pestos.
Parsley is an excellent breath freshener, thanks to its high chlorophyl content. It is high in Vitamins A and C, and one cup of minced fresh parsley contains more beta-carotene than a large carrot, almost twice as much Vitamin C as an orange, more calcium than a cup of milk, and twenty times as much iron as one serving of liver.
It's easy to grow, but slow to germinate from seed. One old European myth says parsley seeds go nine times to the devil and back before germinating. In the community where I grew up, I was told to plant parsley seed in the sign of the moon; pour boiling water on the row, cuss it thoroughly and cover with soil, then, everyday go out and cuss it some more until it peeks through the soil. From those instructions you would think the someone was trying to germinate baby dragons from rocks instead of simple parsley plants!
Parsley is easy to grow. It likes a full day of sunshine, with moderate soil, or a planter on the patio, and requires very little care. The boiling water trick I learned from my childhood, is just a method for loosening the outer shell of the seed. The cussing and yelling probably doesn't do anything for the germination.
You can also speed up germination by soaking the seed for a day or two before planting. In some regions you can plant the seed in the fall and the freezing and thawing of winter will loosen the seeds so they can sprout.
A really simple method to speed germination is this: Put four or five parsley seeds in each compartment of an ice cube tray. Fill the tray with water and put it in the freezer for a week. Then, plant the ice cubes in a row. Germination will be much improved with no yelling or cussing required. Parsley is a biennial, which means it grows one year then goes to seed the next. The flavor of the leaves is good the first year, but turn bitter as the plant goes into flowering the second year. In other words, grow parsley as an annual for continuous leaves to use.
Gremolata is a chopped parsley seasoning, used somewhat like pesto, (which uses basil instead of parsley). Gremolata is chopped parsley with garlic, lemon zest, sometimes including olive oil. It is used for adding to the cook pot near the end of cooking for flavor, as an ingredient in soups. stews, as a topping for lamb, pork, chicken or fish.
Here's a basic Gremolata recipe:.
3 tablespoons chopped flat, Italian parsley, or 6-8 sprigs 2 garlic cloves 2 teaspoons freshly grated lemon zest Freshly ground pepper Put ingredients in food processor and chop well. Try a parsley salad: 4 cups barely chopped parsley, 1/2 cup of halved ripe cherry tomatoes, some sliced radishes, a green onion diced fine and some fresh lemon juice squeezed over with a bit of olive oil and tossed well.
Parsley is full of flavor and vitamins and the next time you see it on your dinner plate, eat it for the great breath freshener it is. Grow it, cook with it and eat more parsley - it's actually good, and good for you!
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
I was sitting in a restaurant recently, when I overheard a conversation between a five year old boy and his mother. The boy asked, "Mummie, what's this green thing on my plate?"
I looked over to see what he was inquiring about and saw a plate of fried chicken nuggets. Next to that was a plate of half-eaten child's size pancakes and a glass of soda.
The mother said, "Oh, that's just parsley, it's for decoration, not something you eat."
Never mind it was the only fresh, healthy food on their plates. But to teach a child that parsley's not edible!
However, most people don't think much of parsley today. It's that little piece of green fluff on top of the grilled salmon. It's the green leaves scattered around sliced meats and cheeses on an appetizer tray. It is, in today's world, basically an herb that has been relegated to being just decoration.
But the Romans, and the Greeks before them, used parsley in great quantities and looked upon parsley as an essential herb, recognizing its individual flavor in foods. The Greeks held parsley in high esteem and made wreathes of it and used them in celebrations as gifts to the gods. The Romans looked upon parsley as important in keeping away drunkenness, and so, exotic salads of parsley with rose petals and violets were eaten at the great banquets to ward off inebriation.
Fresh parsley has a flavor of its own, which makes it useful in cooking, although dried parsley has virtually no flavor. Curly leaf parsley (Petroselinum crispum) has pleasant flavor, but flat leaf, or Italian parsley (Petroselinum neapolitanum) has an honest, more robust, flavor that is perfect in soups, salads, salad dressings, gremolatas and pestos.
Parsley is an excellent breath freshener, thanks to its high chlorophyl content. It is high in Vitamins A and C, and one cup of minced fresh parsley contains more beta-carotene than a large carrot, almost twice as much Vitamin C as an orange, more calcium than a cup of milk, and twenty times as much iron as one serving of liver.
It's easy to grow, but slow to germinate from seed. One old European myth says parsley seeds go nine times to the devil and back before germinating. In the community where I grew up, I was told to plant parsley seed in the sign of the moon; pour boiling water on the row, cuss it thoroughly and cover with soil, then, everyday go out and cuss it some more until it peeks through the soil. From those instructions you would think the someone was trying to germinate baby dragons from rocks instead of simple parsley plants!
Parsley is easy to grow. It likes a full day of sunshine, with moderate soil, or a planter on the patio, and requires very little care. The boiling water trick I learned from my childhood, is just a method for loosening the outer shell of the seed. The cussing and yelling probably doesn't do anything for the germination.
You can also speed up germination by soaking the seed for a day or two before planting. In some regions you can plant the seed in the fall and the freezing and thawing of winter will loosen the seeds so they can sprout.
A really simple method to speed germination is this: Put four or five parsley seeds in each compartment of an ice cube tray. Fill the tray with water and put it in the freezer for a week. Then, plant the ice cubes in a row. Germination will be much improved with no yelling or cussing required. Parsley is a biennial, which means it grows one year then goes to seed the next. The flavor of the leaves is good the first year, but turn bitter as the plant goes into flowering the second year. In other words, grow parsley as an annual for continuous leaves to use.
Gremolata is a chopped parsley seasoning, used somewhat like pesto, (which uses basil instead of parsley). Gremolata is chopped parsley with garlic, lemon zest, sometimes including olive oil. It is used for adding to the cook pot near the end of cooking for flavor, as an ingredient in soups. stews, as a topping for lamb, pork, chicken or fish.
Here's a basic Gremolata recipe:.
3 tablespoons chopped flat, Italian parsley, or 6-8 sprigs 2 garlic cloves 2 teaspoons freshly grated lemon zest Freshly ground pepper Put ingredients in food processor and chop well. Try a parsley salad: 4 cups barely chopped parsley, 1/2 cup of halved ripe cherry tomatoes, some sliced radishes, a green onion diced fine and some fresh lemon juice squeezed over with a bit of olive oil and tossed well.
Parsley is full of flavor and vitamins and the next time you see it on your dinner plate, eat it for the great breath freshener it is. Grow it, cook with it and eat more parsley - it's actually good, and good for you!
Death by Violets
For The Herb Companion magazine
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
For many years in my twenties and thirties, I worked as a landscape architect. It was the perfect profession for me because I love plants, and I enjoy designing people's outdoor environments. And, although I am a bit embarrassed to admit, I greatly enjoy spending other people's money.
Early on, when I first began my business, I landed a design job for a newly wealthy client. The couple, a handsome young attorney and his stunningly beautiful trophy wife, had just built an expansive house in the fashionable suburbs of the city. They hired me to create a total environment, with a swimming pool, multilevel decks, a variety of gardens, with patios, a water feature and a gazebo.
I understood very well what they wanted, which was lots of bling, something to make their neighbors envious. They wanted a landscape that shouted, "Money lives here."
When the job was finished, they threw a party, in honor of my work. Invited were the young movers and shakers of the community, in other words, more people like my clients. From the contacts I made at that party, I was busy with work for the next seven years and it established me as the guy to call if you had bottomless pockets for your landscape project.
The next substantial project I took on was for a wealthy bachelor. He owned several thousand acres of ranch land and chose a pristine location at the base of a bluff to build his home. An entire hillside cliff was dismantled by stonecutters who chiseled the limestone into building blocks for the house. A house in France was bought and dismantled simply for the eighty seven massive, seventeenth century doors. Another house in England was purchased for the four hundred year old English oak door frames, flooring and mantle pieces. A factory in San Francisco was torn down and the railroad car length wooden beams were transported to the site to become hand-waxed, exposed beams in the house. Slate from South America made the one hundred and three patio-sized steps leading to the front door; Italian marble covered the bathrooms. An attached arboretum held a pool, hot tub and steam rooms with a waterfall backdrop made of boulders with sculpture commissioned for the project.
My job, first, was to take the remains of dismantled bluffs behind the house and rebuild them into natural looking, aged stone cliff faces, building two fifty foot waterfalls and pools below with thousands of well chosen plants. To return the bluff colors to their mossy origins, I used a combination of buttermilk, horse manure and moss, blended into a paste and painted on the stone. I spent two years there, creating an environment of natural beauty with a sophisticated look. Wildflowers and herbs were planted between the house-sized boulders in the front lawn. Wild edible water plants edged the spring-fed ponds. Hundreds of thousands of spring bulbs were shipped from Holland, hand picked for the lawns and beds.
After the completion of the house, the owner moved in. He hired a private chef, a woman I'll call Peggy, and her caretaker/chauffeur husband, Bob. I became well aquatinted with Peggy and Bob as I was on site nearly every day, overseeing my landscape crews or ordering more plants.
Peggy and I became friends, primarily over our common interest in food. She knew I had enthusiasm for edible wild plants and culinary herbs and so we occasionally exchanged recipes. When a lavish party was planned at the house, Peggy would invite me in beforehand to taste this item or that and ask my opinion.
It was springtime and there were sweeping banks of lovely purple violets along the bluffs and creeks below the house. I'd been telling Peggy about candying violets and so one day she asked me to show her how I did it.
The house had a public kitchen attached to the spacious dining room. A four hundred year old redwood had been felled to make the dining table, which was a simple plank, five feet wide and long enough to seat forty. Next to that were several marble topped counters with hammered copper sinks and antique, gold plated French fixtures.
Behind that, was the service kitchen, the real working space. I brought in a basket of violets I had picked and Peggy broke an egg and separated it. I frothed up the egg white with a fork and began dipping the blossoms into the egg, then dropping them into a plastic bag of sugar and shaking them. Quickly we had a few dozen violet blossoms laid out on waxed paper to dry.
"I understand," Peggy said. "I had no idea it was so easy."
I reminded her to dry the violets in a barely warm oven or food dehydrator, then put them into airtight containers until ready to use (and away from direct light, which would ruin their color).
I learned there was to be a big party in a few days, a political fundraiser. Actually there would be two parties, two hundred people in each. The first group would include the governor of the state, the Attorney General, a couple of Senators and other bigwigs of the state's political machine, along with lots of the local upper crust of society.
Peggy had decided she would use candied violets to decorate her many desserts she was preparing and told me of her plan. Bob was to gather the blossoms. I asked him if he knew the plant we were talking about and showed him a patch of violets near the house.
"Oh, yes, I can see. I know what to pick," Bob had said.
I stopped by on the day of the party to make sure my crews had not left any tools or unplanted plants where the guests could see them.
"Jim," Peggy called out from the front door of the house when she say me walking up the steps. "Come and check my violets, I need your opinion," she said with a concerned voice.
When I got into the kitchen, I saw huge platters of candied violets, piled high. There were thousands of candied violets and I complimented her on her work.
"Something's wrong," Peggy began. "Taste one and tell me what you think." I chose a couple of violets nearest me from the platter and popped them in my mouth. I chewed, enjoying the sweetness. Suddenly, my throat turned numb. My tongue, also. I evidently looked startled because Peggy handed me a glass of water and asked, "Is this the way they are supposed to taste?"
After I sputtered and choked a bit and drank the water down, I muttered, "No. Those aren't violets, what are they?"
We turned to Bob, who was kind of a sweet but not terribly bright, doofus. Bob said, "Those are the ones you told me to pick, I just do what I'm told." "Show me where you picked them," I said, still not certain what the mistake was. A ray of sunshine was coming through the window, hitting the platters of violets, making their frosty purple color seem to glow.
Peggy and I followed Bob past the golf green, along the nature trail at the base of the waterfall until Bob pointed and said, "Here. This is where I picked the violets."
My mouth dropped open. Peggy's eyes got wide. What we were looking at was a tennis court-sized bed of vinca minor. Bob had simply assumed that anything with a lavender flower, had to be a violet. Never mind that one plant was a trailing groundcover with small leaves along the runners and that the other, the violets, grew in individual clumps with heart-shaped leaves. To him, if it was purple, it was a violet.
At that time I had no idea if vinca minor was edible. From the numbness in my throat and tongue, I assumed they were probably poison. My mind was spinning. Imagine it, I thought to myself, the headlines in the morning news would read, "Governor dies with violets in mouth."
I thought through the impact of the deaths of the leaders of the political party in power, how Bob might have single-handedly killed off the power structure of the state and local governments, bringing in a progressive party.
Peggy must have been thinking the same thing. She looked at me and said, "I need to get back to the kitchen. I have a new menu to put together for the party tonight."
Only years later did I learn from a pharmacist that vinca minor isn't poisonous, but not recommended for eating. It had minor medicinal properties in historic medicines. The politicians wouldn't have been killed, just very uncomfortable for an hour or so while they had their stomachs pumped., which, looking back, might have been fun.
The lessons for us were many. First, to always know the correct identity of the plant before you eat it. Second, don't judge a flower by its color. And third, politicians are lucky that people taste food beforehand, before serving it.
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
For many years in my twenties and thirties, I worked as a landscape architect. It was the perfect profession for me because I love plants, and I enjoy designing people's outdoor environments. And, although I am a bit embarrassed to admit, I greatly enjoy spending other people's money.
Early on, when I first began my business, I landed a design job for a newly wealthy client. The couple, a handsome young attorney and his stunningly beautiful trophy wife, had just built an expansive house in the fashionable suburbs of the city. They hired me to create a total environment, with a swimming pool, multilevel decks, a variety of gardens, with patios, a water feature and a gazebo.
I understood very well what they wanted, which was lots of bling, something to make their neighbors envious. They wanted a landscape that shouted, "Money lives here."
When the job was finished, they threw a party, in honor of my work. Invited were the young movers and shakers of the community, in other words, more people like my clients. From the contacts I made at that party, I was busy with work for the next seven years and it established me as the guy to call if you had bottomless pockets for your landscape project.
The next substantial project I took on was for a wealthy bachelor. He owned several thousand acres of ranch land and chose a pristine location at the base of a bluff to build his home. An entire hillside cliff was dismantled by stonecutters who chiseled the limestone into building blocks for the house. A house in France was bought and dismantled simply for the eighty seven massive, seventeenth century doors. Another house in England was purchased for the four hundred year old English oak door frames, flooring and mantle pieces. A factory in San Francisco was torn down and the railroad car length wooden beams were transported to the site to become hand-waxed, exposed beams in the house. Slate from South America made the one hundred and three patio-sized steps leading to the front door; Italian marble covered the bathrooms. An attached arboretum held a pool, hot tub and steam rooms with a waterfall backdrop made of boulders with sculpture commissioned for the project.
My job, first, was to take the remains of dismantled bluffs behind the house and rebuild them into natural looking, aged stone cliff faces, building two fifty foot waterfalls and pools below with thousands of well chosen plants. To return the bluff colors to their mossy origins, I used a combination of buttermilk, horse manure and moss, blended into a paste and painted on the stone. I spent two years there, creating an environment of natural beauty with a sophisticated look. Wildflowers and herbs were planted between the house-sized boulders in the front lawn. Wild edible water plants edged the spring-fed ponds. Hundreds of thousands of spring bulbs were shipped from Holland, hand picked for the lawns and beds.
After the completion of the house, the owner moved in. He hired a private chef, a woman I'll call Peggy, and her caretaker/chauffeur husband, Bob. I became well aquatinted with Peggy and Bob as I was on site nearly every day, overseeing my landscape crews or ordering more plants.
Peggy and I became friends, primarily over our common interest in food. She knew I had enthusiasm for edible wild plants and culinary herbs and so we occasionally exchanged recipes. When a lavish party was planned at the house, Peggy would invite me in beforehand to taste this item or that and ask my opinion.
It was springtime and there were sweeping banks of lovely purple violets along the bluffs and creeks below the house. I'd been telling Peggy about candying violets and so one day she asked me to show her how I did it.
The house had a public kitchen attached to the spacious dining room. A four hundred year old redwood had been felled to make the dining table, which was a simple plank, five feet wide and long enough to seat forty. Next to that were several marble topped counters with hammered copper sinks and antique, gold plated French fixtures.
Behind that, was the service kitchen, the real working space. I brought in a basket of violets I had picked and Peggy broke an egg and separated it. I frothed up the egg white with a fork and began dipping the blossoms into the egg, then dropping them into a plastic bag of sugar and shaking them. Quickly we had a few dozen violet blossoms laid out on waxed paper to dry.
"I understand," Peggy said. "I had no idea it was so easy."
I reminded her to dry the violets in a barely warm oven or food dehydrator, then put them into airtight containers until ready to use (and away from direct light, which would ruin their color).
I learned there was to be a big party in a few days, a political fundraiser. Actually there would be two parties, two hundred people in each. The first group would include the governor of the state, the Attorney General, a couple of Senators and other bigwigs of the state's political machine, along with lots of the local upper crust of society.
Peggy had decided she would use candied violets to decorate her many desserts she was preparing and told me of her plan. Bob was to gather the blossoms. I asked him if he knew the plant we were talking about and showed him a patch of violets near the house.
"Oh, yes, I can see. I know what to pick," Bob had said.
I stopped by on the day of the party to make sure my crews had not left any tools or unplanted plants where the guests could see them.
"Jim," Peggy called out from the front door of the house when she say me walking up the steps. "Come and check my violets, I need your opinion," she said with a concerned voice.
When I got into the kitchen, I saw huge platters of candied violets, piled high. There were thousands of candied violets and I complimented her on her work.
"Something's wrong," Peggy began. "Taste one and tell me what you think." I chose a couple of violets nearest me from the platter and popped them in my mouth. I chewed, enjoying the sweetness. Suddenly, my throat turned numb. My tongue, also. I evidently looked startled because Peggy handed me a glass of water and asked, "Is this the way they are supposed to taste?"
After I sputtered and choked a bit and drank the water down, I muttered, "No. Those aren't violets, what are they?"
We turned to Bob, who was kind of a sweet but not terribly bright, doofus. Bob said, "Those are the ones you told me to pick, I just do what I'm told." "Show me where you picked them," I said, still not certain what the mistake was. A ray of sunshine was coming through the window, hitting the platters of violets, making their frosty purple color seem to glow.
Peggy and I followed Bob past the golf green, along the nature trail at the base of the waterfall until Bob pointed and said, "Here. This is where I picked the violets."
My mouth dropped open. Peggy's eyes got wide. What we were looking at was a tennis court-sized bed of vinca minor. Bob had simply assumed that anything with a lavender flower, had to be a violet. Never mind that one plant was a trailing groundcover with small leaves along the runners and that the other, the violets, grew in individual clumps with heart-shaped leaves. To him, if it was purple, it was a violet.
At that time I had no idea if vinca minor was edible. From the numbness in my throat and tongue, I assumed they were probably poison. My mind was spinning. Imagine it, I thought to myself, the headlines in the morning news would read, "Governor dies with violets in mouth."
I thought through the impact of the deaths of the leaders of the political party in power, how Bob might have single-handedly killed off the power structure of the state and local governments, bringing in a progressive party.
Peggy must have been thinking the same thing. She looked at me and said, "I need to get back to the kitchen. I have a new menu to put together for the party tonight."
Only years later did I learn from a pharmacist that vinca minor isn't poisonous, but not recommended for eating. It had minor medicinal properties in historic medicines. The politicians wouldn't have been killed, just very uncomfortable for an hour or so while they had their stomachs pumped., which, looking back, might have been fun.
The lessons for us were many. First, to always know the correct identity of the plant before you eat it. Second, don't judge a flower by its color. And third, politicians are lucky that people taste food beforehand, before serving it.
An Old-Time Healing Plant Saves the Lawn-mower Boy
For The Herb Companion magazine
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
Comfrey's gotten a bad rap in recent years. My own dermatologist, who's not particularly interested in herbs, cautioned me one day a few months ago that "comfrey shouldn't even be used topically, it's just too dangerous." I think he brought it up because he recalled from years before that I make myself a bit of fresh comfrey salve after my visits to him. I go about once a year to have him freeze any sunspots I've developed over the previous year. My salve is a simple mixture, just t several young, tender comfrey leaves, 1/2 cup aloe vera gel and about 1/4 cup rubbing alcohol, all put into a blender and blended until it's a thick, green goopy salve, which I then cover and refrigerate.
Then, as soon as I return from my trip to the dermatologist's, I put little dollops of the green stuff on each place he's frozen, twice a day, which rapidly promotes healing.
Once, I'd forgotten that I had an appointment with the dermatologist just 4 days before I was to appear on an HGTV program. Only when I was sitting in the doctor's office did I remember the conflict in my schedule. Afraid my face would look like a meteor shower had passed, I began using my comfrey salve that very day. Surprisingly, only 4 days later, there wasn't a mark left for the television show's make up person to hide.
There's evidence that comfrey shouldn't be taken internally, at least not on a repeated basis. And there's also evidence that regular, repeated use on your skin might have deleterious effects on your liver. It is, of course, good to err on the side of caution.
Several summers ago I had a teenage guy who came each week to mow my lawn. His goal was to earn enough money during the summer to buy a car and he was intent on quickly mowing and getting on to his next job.
One morning soon after he had arrived for his weekly mowing, Bobby came over to where I was working in the herb garden. He held up the palm of his hand to me and explained that he'd cut it a few days ago and that pushing on the lawnmower handle with that hand kept reopening the wound.
"Got anything I can put on it?" he said.
I examined his hand and saw it was a clean wound, not infected, just uncomfortable. Of course what he probably wanted was a bandage, but he didn't ask for that and so I decided it was a good opportunity to teach him about comfrey. I walked a few steps and picked a couple of tender comfrey leaves.
"Here," I said to him. "Chew these up a bit and put them on the cut." He stood there, looking puzzled. "Ah, I, er, don't think I want to put that in my mouth," he said. "It's just leaves."
"Bobby, what's under your lower lip right now?" I asked with a knowing grin. "Skoal," he said, looking a bit embarrassed.
I told him to spit it out, that comfrey was a whole lot more useful than the tobacco he so lovingly held in his lips. Reluctantly he spit out the Skoal, wiped his lips and tentatively took the comfrey leaves I held in my hand.
He felt the leaves and noted that they were fuzzy. He was like a child, stalling, avoiding doing what he was instructed. But finally, seeing that I wasn't backing down (and only after I had put a comfrey leaf in my own mouth), he put the leaves into his mouth and worried them around with his tongue, breaking the plant's cell walls, watching me all the while to see if I was at any moment going to tell him it was a joke.
After he had chewed the leaves up a bit and finally saw that I was totally serious, I said, "Now flatten out the leaves with your fingers and apply them like a fat bandage to the palm of your hand that's cut and hold it against the mower handle while you mow. I think you'll find it helps ease the pain."
Bobby did as I suggested and in a couple of hours came back to show me that the wound did, indeed, look a bit better. I picked a few more leaves for him and told him to repeat the process that night after he got home from work, then apply it again the next morning. (I also instructed him to regularly use hydrogen peroxide on the cut to cleanse it).
It was a week later when Bobby came back. No sooner had he unloaded his mower than he came bounding over to me in the garden like a puppy chasing a ball. Holding up both palms he said, grinning from ear to ear, "I bet you can't tell which hand was cut, can you?"
And it was true. There was no indication of any wound, old or new on either hand. The wound was totally healed and gone. The next thing from Bobby was a question that really tickled me. It was even more than I had hoped for. "That worked so well, so what else grows in your garden? " he asked.
And with that, I gave Bobby his first ever tour of an herb garden. He willingly smelled and tasted everything I handed him, asking questions, wondering what this was used for and what that plant was over there that I hadn't gotten to yet. It was obvious that this was the first time a garden, or plants, had caught Bobby's attention and suddenly he couldn't get the information fast enough.
Comfrey may be a plant that deserves caution, but from my point of view, it has a long history of use and I will continue to use it, carefully and sparingly.
Jim Long's gardens and books can be seen at www.Longcreekherbs.com. Readers comments and questions always welcome at Lcherbs@interlinc.net.
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
Comfrey's gotten a bad rap in recent years. My own dermatologist, who's not particularly interested in herbs, cautioned me one day a few months ago that "comfrey shouldn't even be used topically, it's just too dangerous." I think he brought it up because he recalled from years before that I make myself a bit of fresh comfrey salve after my visits to him. I go about once a year to have him freeze any sunspots I've developed over the previous year. My salve is a simple mixture, just t several young, tender comfrey leaves, 1/2 cup aloe vera gel and about 1/4 cup rubbing alcohol, all put into a blender and blended until it's a thick, green goopy salve, which I then cover and refrigerate.
Then, as soon as I return from my trip to the dermatologist's, I put little dollops of the green stuff on each place he's frozen, twice a day, which rapidly promotes healing.
Once, I'd forgotten that I had an appointment with the dermatologist just 4 days before I was to appear on an HGTV program. Only when I was sitting in the doctor's office did I remember the conflict in my schedule. Afraid my face would look like a meteor shower had passed, I began using my comfrey salve that very day. Surprisingly, only 4 days later, there wasn't a mark left for the television show's make up person to hide.
There's evidence that comfrey shouldn't be taken internally, at least not on a repeated basis. And there's also evidence that regular, repeated use on your skin might have deleterious effects on your liver. It is, of course, good to err on the side of caution.
Several summers ago I had a teenage guy who came each week to mow my lawn. His goal was to earn enough money during the summer to buy a car and he was intent on quickly mowing and getting on to his next job.
One morning soon after he had arrived for his weekly mowing, Bobby came over to where I was working in the herb garden. He held up the palm of his hand to me and explained that he'd cut it a few days ago and that pushing on the lawnmower handle with that hand kept reopening the wound.
"Got anything I can put on it?" he said.
I examined his hand and saw it was a clean wound, not infected, just uncomfortable. Of course what he probably wanted was a bandage, but he didn't ask for that and so I decided it was a good opportunity to teach him about comfrey. I walked a few steps and picked a couple of tender comfrey leaves.
"Here," I said to him. "Chew these up a bit and put them on the cut." He stood there, looking puzzled. "Ah, I, er, don't think I want to put that in my mouth," he said. "It's just leaves."
"Bobby, what's under your lower lip right now?" I asked with a knowing grin. "Skoal," he said, looking a bit embarrassed.
I told him to spit it out, that comfrey was a whole lot more useful than the tobacco he so lovingly held in his lips. Reluctantly he spit out the Skoal, wiped his lips and tentatively took the comfrey leaves I held in my hand.
He felt the leaves and noted that they were fuzzy. He was like a child, stalling, avoiding doing what he was instructed. But finally, seeing that I wasn't backing down (and only after I had put a comfrey leaf in my own mouth), he put the leaves into his mouth and worried them around with his tongue, breaking the plant's cell walls, watching me all the while to see if I was at any moment going to tell him it was a joke.
After he had chewed the leaves up a bit and finally saw that I was totally serious, I said, "Now flatten out the leaves with your fingers and apply them like a fat bandage to the palm of your hand that's cut and hold it against the mower handle while you mow. I think you'll find it helps ease the pain."
Bobby did as I suggested and in a couple of hours came back to show me that the wound did, indeed, look a bit better. I picked a few more leaves for him and told him to repeat the process that night after he got home from work, then apply it again the next morning. (I also instructed him to regularly use hydrogen peroxide on the cut to cleanse it).
It was a week later when Bobby came back. No sooner had he unloaded his mower than he came bounding over to me in the garden like a puppy chasing a ball. Holding up both palms he said, grinning from ear to ear, "I bet you can't tell which hand was cut, can you?"
And it was true. There was no indication of any wound, old or new on either hand. The wound was totally healed and gone. The next thing from Bobby was a question that really tickled me. It was even more than I had hoped for. "That worked so well, so what else grows in your garden? " he asked.
And with that, I gave Bobby his first ever tour of an herb garden. He willingly smelled and tasted everything I handed him, asking questions, wondering what this was used for and what that plant was over there that I hadn't gotten to yet. It was obvious that this was the first time a garden, or plants, had caught Bobby's attention and suddenly he couldn't get the information fast enough.
Comfrey may be a plant that deserves caution, but from my point of view, it has a long history of use and I will continue to use it, carefully and sparingly.
Jim Long's gardens and books can be seen at www.Longcreekherbs.com. Readers comments and questions always welcome at Lcherbs@interlinc.net.
Akos and the Lavender Massacre
For The Herb Companion
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
I've always been resistant to learning the metric measuring system. It's pure stubbornness on my part, dating back to my childhood when I read Americans were going to have to adopt the rest of the world's measurements. "Why"? I remember asking. No one consulted me or let me vote. I intend to live out my lifetime ignoring the difference between a millimeter and a kilometer. Neither measurement evokes a mental image for me.
With our native measurements, I know in my mind what they look like. Tell me to hold up my fingers and measure an inch, and I can, because I have a mental picture of an inch. Tell me to walk a mile and I will know how far to go. But ask me to point out a millimeter, or a decimeter, or any of those other foreign terms, and there is just no mental picture that comes in my mind. Just because the rest of the world does something, is not reason enough for me to change. Usually the world and I just agree to disagree. But for some years I hosted foreign exchange students. They came, one at at time, to work with me and learn my methods of herb growing and marketing. These students were in their twenties, had a degrees in agriculture and were reasonable fluent in English.
Akos was my first exchange student, arriving in March from Budapest, Hungary. I got him settled into a little apartment on my farm and within a few days began giving him work assignments in the garden.
Akos' first assignment was to prune my lavender plants, readying them for spring. I explained I'm very particular about my lavenders. I've learned over the years they require a raised bed in this climate; otherwise their roots rot and die. I've learned they want a bit of mulch, so I use pine needles. Too much mulch will choke them, I explained to Akos, and every year they get a light application of garden lime and never, ever, should one dig around the base of the plant. The lavenders have very shallow roots which are easily damaged.
The young man stood patiently, nodding his head and eagerly trying to absorb everything I was saying. When I would ask, "Do you understand?" he would nod a polite "Yes."
I didn't want to hover around as if I didn't trust my new student, so I handed him a pair of trimmers and explained how I wanted him to prune the lavender plants. I explained "Eight to ten inches is plenty." He nodded that he understood. I pointed out where the trimmings should be thrown over the garden fence to the goats, who, most likely, would have them for lunch.
Lavender plants do best when pruned each spring. I cut mine back in late February or early March, just when there are the tiniest green leaves beginning to appear on the old limbs. With an annual pruning, the plants will be more robust and produce a greater supply of blooms. Then, after the early summer blooming, the old bloom shoots are removed to make way for a second, late summer flowering.
I looked out the window some time later and Akos was still working diligently on the lavender bed. I could see piles of the old limbs and trimmings piled carefully to the side. I went back to my other work. When he came indoors later and said, "I'm done, come to see," I went out to inspect his work.
What I saw caused my mouth to drop open. Instead of plants which were cut back to eight inches or taller, the stark lavenders were cut nearly to their main trunks. Trying to not scare the fellow on his first work assignment, I carefully chose my words and tried to lower the pitch of my voice to near normal. But I wanted to scream or cry.
"How did you decide eight inches was not enough?" I finally managed to ask. He blushed red. "Inches?" he asked. I don't know that measurement. I cut these back to eight centimeters."
I was certain that the lavenders would die, but over the following weeks I saw the severely pruned plants were putting up new growth. I thought to myself possibly within a couple of seasons at least some of the plants might be back to their former glory.
To my continuing surprise, by mid summer my lavenders were blooming more than they had ever bloomed. The spikes were longer and more numerous. Not a single plant had died as I had so dourly predicted.
Now each spring, I laugh as I prune my lavenders, remembering Akos and my mistake relating measurements to him. I always prune them back more severely than I used to, cutting them down to four of five inches above the main stem. I give them some compost and a light sprinkling of lime, scattered on top of the bed before laying down a new layer of pine needles.
My lavenders have continued to thrive with this treatment and I send an annual thank you email to Akos to remind him of our first misunderstanding and how much I learned from it. Maybe it's time I learn a new set of measurements. Lavender is versatile and resilient, so maybe I can be, too.
Copyright© Jim Long, 2006
I've always been resistant to learning the metric measuring system. It's pure stubbornness on my part, dating back to my childhood when I read Americans were going to have to adopt the rest of the world's measurements. "Why"? I remember asking. No one consulted me or let me vote. I intend to live out my lifetime ignoring the difference between a millimeter and a kilometer. Neither measurement evokes a mental image for me.
With our native measurements, I know in my mind what they look like. Tell me to hold up my fingers and measure an inch, and I can, because I have a mental picture of an inch. Tell me to walk a mile and I will know how far to go. But ask me to point out a millimeter, or a decimeter, or any of those other foreign terms, and there is just no mental picture that comes in my mind. Just because the rest of the world does something, is not reason enough for me to change. Usually the world and I just agree to disagree. But for some years I hosted foreign exchange students. They came, one at at time, to work with me and learn my methods of herb growing and marketing. These students were in their twenties, had a degrees in agriculture and were reasonable fluent in English.
Akos was my first exchange student, arriving in March from Budapest, Hungary. I got him settled into a little apartment on my farm and within a few days began giving him work assignments in the garden.
Akos' first assignment was to prune my lavender plants, readying them for spring. I explained I'm very particular about my lavenders. I've learned over the years they require a raised bed in this climate; otherwise their roots rot and die. I've learned they want a bit of mulch, so I use pine needles. Too much mulch will choke them, I explained to Akos, and every year they get a light application of garden lime and never, ever, should one dig around the base of the plant. The lavenders have very shallow roots which are easily damaged.
The young man stood patiently, nodding his head and eagerly trying to absorb everything I was saying. When I would ask, "Do you understand?" he would nod a polite "Yes."
I didn't want to hover around as if I didn't trust my new student, so I handed him a pair of trimmers and explained how I wanted him to prune the lavender plants. I explained "Eight to ten inches is plenty." He nodded that he understood. I pointed out where the trimmings should be thrown over the garden fence to the goats, who, most likely, would have them for lunch.
Lavender plants do best when pruned each spring. I cut mine back in late February or early March, just when there are the tiniest green leaves beginning to appear on the old limbs. With an annual pruning, the plants will be more robust and produce a greater supply of blooms. Then, after the early summer blooming, the old bloom shoots are removed to make way for a second, late summer flowering.
I looked out the window some time later and Akos was still working diligently on the lavender bed. I could see piles of the old limbs and trimmings piled carefully to the side. I went back to my other work. When he came indoors later and said, "I'm done, come to see," I went out to inspect his work.
What I saw caused my mouth to drop open. Instead of plants which were cut back to eight inches or taller, the stark lavenders were cut nearly to their main trunks. Trying to not scare the fellow on his first work assignment, I carefully chose my words and tried to lower the pitch of my voice to near normal. But I wanted to scream or cry.
"How did you decide eight inches was not enough?" I finally managed to ask. He blushed red. "Inches?" he asked. I don't know that measurement. I cut these back to eight centimeters."
I was certain that the lavenders would die, but over the following weeks I saw the severely pruned plants were putting up new growth. I thought to myself possibly within a couple of seasons at least some of the plants might be back to their former glory.
To my continuing surprise, by mid summer my lavenders were blooming more than they had ever bloomed. The spikes were longer and more numerous. Not a single plant had died as I had so dourly predicted.
Now each spring, I laugh as I prune my lavenders, remembering Akos and my mistake relating measurements to him. I always prune them back more severely than I used to, cutting them down to four of five inches above the main stem. I give them some compost and a light sprinkling of lime, scattered on top of the bed before laying down a new layer of pine needles.
My lavenders have continued to thrive with this treatment and I send an annual thank you email to Akos to remind him of our first misunderstanding and how much I learned from it. Maybe it's time I learn a new set of measurements. Lavender is versatile and resilient, so maybe I can be, too.
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