Weeding is Harvesting

 

I was tidying a section of the fenced-in "garden" and harvested a respectable bucket of Taraxacum officinale radix, better known as dandelion root. Some folks call this activity "weeding." I call it harvesting.

I cleaned and prepared the roots for the oven, where they gently roast until they're nice and dry. I leave them in the oven to cool, and double check them for crispy dryness before packing them in jars for storage and enjoyment in the seasons ahead.

How do I enjoy these roasted roots? I give them a rough grind in my suribachi (or any mortar 'n' pestle), and simmer them in water at least 20 minutes, strain 'n' sip 'n' enJOY. I often add more water for a second or third brew. I might add other botanicals that can take the decoction (that's herbalist speak for the simmer) to enhance the flavor, medicinal or nutritional value. 

You might like to add a bit of organic cane sugar, maple syrup 'r sugar, or local honey to yours. You might like to add some spicy botanicals to make it chai-like. You might like to add a splash of local milk, or the cream off the top. Me... I prefer mine "straight up." Not only is this mellow, bitter brew delicious, it supports and sustains my physical being as an ally to general digestion, to liver 'n' gallbladder function, and then some. 

Of course the leaves are delightful in salad, cooked as a green and as an addition to springtime soups. The petals - those beautiful, bright, sunshiny petals - are notorious for brewing liquid sunshine like dandelion wine 'n' mead and various elixirs and liqueurs, and I love adding them to my sourdough pancakes, muffins (and other baked goods).  

I harvest the roots (and its other parts) from spring to autumn. I still have some dry roasted roots from last season, which delights me greatly.

So remember: Weeding can be harvesting and harvests equate to abundance and abundance is... everywhere in Nature. Respect that. Deeply.

Peace. 🕊

A version of this entry was originally posted May 17, 2015 at When Weeds Whisper.

A Few May Harvests

Leonurus cardiaca, motherwort

We’ve had a couple days of relative dryness, and later today there might be a little spit from the sky, so I thought I’d make some botanical harvests for drying.

First up: Some pre-budding motherwort that was growing in a space that didn’t appeal to either of us. So we pulled her up, gathered the stems, and set her to dry.

Nepeta cataria, catnip

Secondly: One small collection of catnip. This, from a plant that was growing in a path, so we agreed – despite my preference for her to have some signs of budding – that it would be best to remove it, hang it to dry, and add it to some future iced tea.

Salvia officinalis, garden sage

Last but – oh so – not least: A modest bundle of budding garden sage. My gods, it is gorgeous this year. I am so grateful for that seemingly severe trimming I agreed to give it last year.

There’s plenty more of all three of these for future harvests, and I feel so blessed, and overflowing with gratitude. 

Peace. 🕊

Allaria petiolata - Garlic Mustard

Today I return to Allaria petiolata... garlic mustard, remember? I've been harvesting more roots to macerate in vinegar. To me, this is a wonderful way to attempt to tame this wild (and generous) invasive. The infused vinegar often ends up in some version of fire cider I make in autumn, among other formulations, and on its own.

I make a simple pesto with the greens (just ground via mortar 'n' pestle with a touch of sea salt) and freeze it in tablespoon-sized dollops for the freezer. These are a tasty addition to many a dish.

Already I see the bud stems forming on the second year plants, a few are flowering, and it won't be long before they explode into full bloom. At that point I often wander and pull up as many as I can (the stem seems to make them easier to grab and unroot) and pile them in the sun to dry well before composting. The plants that miss this culling will have their flowers leveraged (they make a lovely 'n' tasty garnish), and later, still, their seeds (to use like mustard seeds - which, in essence - they are.

With that, I challenge you to venture out in search of Allaria to leverage as the food that she is!

A version of this entry was originally posted May 9, 2015 at When Weeds Whisper.

Peace. 🕊

WIP: A Denim Sofa Arm Cover

Piecing together some denim remnants, on the ol’ sewing machine I learned on, to make an arm cover for our sofa.

Once this cover is done, I’ll likely make one for the other arm. With these kinds of home projects I prefer to take it slow, one little piece at a time. Plus I’ll have to collect 'n' piece together more denim, not only for the other arm cover, but I’d also like to make some pillow covers with denim as well.

Plus... this old Brother sewing machine. Beautiful, isn’t it? I may have the paperwork for it, I’ll have to find it, but I think my mom got it new in 1964, maybe 1962.

When I was in junior high, I was taught machine sewing - among other things - by the remarkable Mz. Walker in her home economics class. I could go on - and on - about her. She taught me so well that my mother had me do the lion’s share of sewing after that… especially putting in zippers, and other fussy work that she claimed I was better at than her. It was high praise from a very critical woman. That said, Mz. Walker taught me the value of a seam ripper because she’d have you take things apart and put them back together if you were cutting corners, or making less-than-perfect seams. I think of her often with a grand fondness. 

All this rambling aside, it’s this old sewing machine that delights me. I feel so blessed to have it. It’s mechanical, and I can take it apart, clean ’n’ fix things and put it back together… as I have done many times over the last 50+ years.

Years ago I used masking tape to mark the .5 inch point. The tape's long been removed, the dried adhesive lingers. I may have to clean that off. Or leave it.

Peace. 🕊

Medicine of Lightheartedness

Mondays can be very challenging for so many, for *so* many reasons.

If you’re struggling, even for a moment, and even if you’re not, may the healing face of this blessed Narcissus poeticus offer you a little Medicine of lightheartedness.

Breathe in the light, exhale the heavy.

🕊

A Springtime Wild Harvest Egg Drop Miso Soup

 

This is the season for spring soups! For me, so many of our wild friends have so much nutrition and flavor to offer us that it would be shameful not to leverage, honor and appreciate their generous offerings.

Last night I harvested some leaves of Rumex crispus (curly dock), Taraxacum officinalis (dandelion) and more tops from the patch of Urtica dioica (nettles) for an egg drop miso soup. I also snagged some alliums - chives and walking onions - from the cultivated gardens.

To me, this is "fast food." Fast food that is Good for you and virtually free. I chopped and simmered the wild greens for about thirty minutes in salted water, added the alliums and simmered another few minutes. I cracked two fresh-laid eggs, whisked them with some water, stirred them in, removed the soup from the heat and stirred in a tablespoon (or so) of mellow miso.

Just one bowl of this soup with a side of spring salad greens was remarkably filling, not to mention delicious and nutrient rich.

What are your favored wild harvested foods in this vernal season? 

A version of this entry was originally posted May 9, 2015 at When Weeds Whisper.

Peace. 🕊

A Wee Spring Harvest

Earlier today, I harvested some lovage. The leaves are in the dehydrator. The stems have been blanched, and are now macerating in an organic cane sugar syrup. 

Once dried, the leaves will be jarred up to keep on hand as a dry alternative to the fresh stuff. The stems have a couple more days of processing to soak up that sugar syrup, and then they’ll be put on a tray to dry for a sweet treat of lovage stem candy.

Then I wandered the little acre to do some more harvesting...

The dandelion heads are sitting on a tray in the shade to dry ‘n’ wilt a bit, as well as to let any ants and other potential vermin crawl off and be on their way. These little flower clusters will be jarred up, covered with extra-virgin olive oil (because that’s all I have at the moment), to be processed for making an infused oil for my aches’n’pains 'n' such.

A handful of mint has been gently rinsed, and is resting on an absorbent towel to dry a bit. This will be made into a mint sauce to keep in the fridge. I’m actually scolding myself in this moment because I didn’t think to do this the other day, when we had lamb for dinner. Ah, well. 

And last but not least, beautiful Equisetum arvense, commonly called horse tail around here, is in the dehydrator with the lovage leaves, so that we can have dried horse tail to add to our nutritional teas throughout the year. I’ll likely harvest a little more tomorrow to dry, but I don’t need/use that much. This botanical - like so much of Nature - reminds me to take only what I need.

Peace. 🕊

Dance with Taraxacum officinalis – Dandelion

 

As the local gifts of Taraxacum sprout, bud 'n' bloom, the gifts of Food and Medicine continue. Here’s a few ideas to get your creative (and digestive) juices flowing…

Dandy Bud Capers

adapted from ForagerChef.com: Dandelion Capers with Ramps and Lemon

2 cups water

1 cup herbal infused apple cider vinegar

1 T kosher salt

7-8 cups dandelion buds

3 garlic cloves, chopped (or other Allium addition)

Zest of one lemon (or other citrus)

Simmer the water, vinegar and salt together until the salt is fully dissolved. Let cool. Pack your jar/s with the dandy buds add the garlic and lemon zest (dividing evenly between jars, if you’re using multiples). Pour in the warm liquid over the plant matter leaving about ½-inch headspace, using a chopstick to remove air bubbles (and adding more liquid if need be). Cover, label, and put in cold storage for several weeks before using (alchemy happens!). Then… enjoy as you would any caper!

Sweet, Tart & Bitter Dandy Syrup

adapted from TheNerdyFarmwife.com: Traditional Scandinavian Dandelion Green Apple Syrup

50-r-so dandelion flower heads, petals removed

2-3 sour apple (like the most-known Granny Smith), chopped

1-2 stalks of rhubarb, chopped

Juice of one lemon (or lime or other citrus)

about 1 cup of cane sugar (to match the measures by volume)

Simmer the dandy petals, apple, rhubarb and lemon juice for 20-30 minutes. Strain out the solids, measure the liquid and add an equal amount of cane sugar, by volume, to the liquid, return to the simmer until the sugar is dissolved. Bottle, label, refrigerate to increase shelf-life and enJOY as you would any other syrup!

Herbal Power

Powder your dried leaves to add to your culinary green powers. I often mix this and similar powders with onion, garlic, dried tomato “waste” from puree-making to keep in a shaker jar for adding to foods and as a garnish.

Temporary Tattoos

Henriette Kress suggests using the white “milk” of the plant to create your own body art. The art isn’t visible right away, but keep it dry, get a good night’s rest, and your brown tattoo will be waiting for you when you wake, and will last a few days (unless you wash it off).

A version of this entry was originally posted May 17, 2017 at When Weeds Whisper.

🕊 Peace.

Meet Taraxacum officinalis – Dandelion

The Lion's Tooth          

Do you see what I see? The land of my dominion!
Just one gentle, passing breeze,
Or even just a random sneeze
Can lift me up and carry me as on an eagle’s pinion.
And scattered into many parts, I go where’er I’m cast
And put down deep and lasting roots, wherever land is grassed.

Do you know what I know? My life is never-ending!
My own seeds number millions -
Each one produces billions!
Pity all poor gardeners’ vain efforts at lawn tending!
Bitter poisons, mowers’ blades, all you have used to fight me -
Could never yank this lion’s tooth, so go ahead and bite me!

– Paula T. Calhoun

Meet Taraxacum officinalis  – Dandelion

Family: Asteraceae

The Taraxacum genus is one of our "North American" natives, also home throughout temperate regions of the northern hemisphere. This ubiquitous beauty is so well known that it needs little botanical description. The genus is described as a herbaceous, tap-rooted perennial plant of many species that adapt to the unique qualities of their environment.

We know this plant most readily by its golden-yellow composite flower head, which is made up of many tiny flowers (florets). These happy flower heads open in day and close at night, a pattern I relate to (among other things) breath.

The flower heads are born singly on the leafless scape (the hollow-tube-like-stem), that exudes a milky white latex that we all recognize. Right?

And who hasn’t dug a dandelion root? The typical tap root, sometimes splitting, from which a basal rosette of simple, lobed leaves, growing 2 to more than 10 inches in length, gives birth to one or more scapes which, in turn, give birth to the flower heads that mature into spherical seed heads called blowballs.

You may already know that the common name, dandelion, is born of the French common name, dent de lion, which means tooth of the lion. Why? Observe the leaves… as well as the flowers… the root… of what might they remind you? Always observe.

Harvest: Roots, leaves, flowers, buds.

Taste: Bitter

Humors: Cool, dry

Actions: Anti-rheumatic, bitter, cholagogue, diuretic, hepatic, laxative, nutritive, tonic, among others.

Constituents: Fructose (richer in spring); sesquiterpene lactones; diterpenes, taraxacin; triperpens; sterols; carotenoids; xanthoxophylls; flavinoids; polysaccharides (inulin – among others – richer in autumn); potassium (up to 4.5% in aerial parts).

Contraindications: Rare allergies. While considered safe during pregnancy, nursing and for children and the aged, it's been suggested that it might best be avoided in Medicine form (IE: Tincture) by those with low blood pressure.

Uses:

The leaves are, to my way of thinking, first and foremost a Food. The leaf has a longtime tradition as a powerful diuretic, especially dried and brewed as tea. Unlike pharmaceutical diuretics, it’s rich in the potassium that is often lost as a result of a diuretic action, making it a synergistically harmonized Medicine, even when water retention or cardiac congestion is present. David Hoffman says, “overall, this herb is a most valuable general tonic and perhaps the best widely applicable diuretic and liver tonic.”

Mark McDermott used tincture leaf tincture in formulas dealing with kidney and bladder stones.

Susun Weed suggests its use for minimizing bloating and cerebral edema (in Ginkgo) that leads to irritability and mood swings, as well as for menstrual challenges of cramps, water retention, pelvic congestions, and to balance feelings.

The root, with its hepatic and cholagogue actions, has a history for being a premier choice for inflammation of the liver and gallbladder. In general, it aids digestion by maximizing the flow of bile into the intestines. It is supportive to a congested liver that is burdened by hormones (HRT) or other drugs.

Ellingwood mentions the root in the treatments of chronic jaundice, rheumatism, chronic skin eruptions and chronic gastritis, among other conditions. For me, the repeated mention of "chronic" just sinks roots ever deeper into the value of this botanical as a Food, and a tonic. 

This plant holds a special place in my heart and around my little backyard farm.

In spring, I simply dig up the early dandies (usually from paths and garden beds where I prefer they not grow) and use the leaves fresh in salads, simmers and sautés, and roast the roots for a delicious decoction to enjoy throughout the year. In general, the leaves are sweetest in spring, and the roots in autumn.

Despite all the years that I’ve been leveraging this botanical for Food and for Medicine, I’m still inspired and learn new things every year. I remember learning - not all that long ago - from a local herbalist to leverage the flowers to make an infused oil for topical use. They used it as many use Arnica oil. This is new to me, and now I make a batch of oil every spring to support me with my eldering (I know, it's not a word and yet, there it is) body with its various aches 'n' pains.

May you fall in love with Taraxacum officinalis, the beloved dandelion.

resources:  Rosalee de la Foret, various sources

                  David Hoffman, Medical Herbalism

                  Henriette Kress, Practical Herbs

                  Susun Weed, various sources

                  Wikipedia for the botany bits

                  Personal notes from multiple sources

                  Personal experience

Next up: Dance with Dandelion - a wee collection of recipes and ideas for nurturing and leveraging your relationship with this generous botanical... 

A version of this entry was originally posted May 17, 2017 at When Weeds Whisper.

🕊 Peace.

Dandelion Citrus Jelly

 

I was gonna make dandelion marmalade, but opted for a fresh challenge of making a jelly minus any commercial pectin. The process I used followed - more or less - the process for making this Cramaillotte (there's many recipes out there, so look around for the one that resonates with you).

It all started with Mr. Spouse 'n' me harvesting a small bucket of dandelion blooms. Many hands - even just four - make light work!

I sat on the deck, under the umbrella, in meditation, separating the "petals" (florets) from the sepals, doing my best to get as little green as possible.

This, in case you're wondering, is the same beginning step for making dandelion mead or wine. 

We ended up with about a quart of gently packed dandelion "petals."

I chopped up a very ripe organic grapefruit and a half a lemon to add to the pot, because that's what I had, and then added water to cover, which was about a quart.

It all simmered together, covered, for about an hour.

I strained and squeezed as much juice as possible from the simmered brew, ending up with about 3 cups of liquid. So I returned the strained juice to the pan with 3 cups of sugar (equal parts by volume), and ended up simmering it another 50 minutes 'til it reached a thick thread stage.

Then it all got ladled into sterilized, hot jelly jars, and capped with hot lids. I used the ::gasp:: method of flipping the hot jars until they cooled and sealed, a process frowned upon my our USDA (which advocates the often wasteful hot water bath, even for steamy, wee batches like this. Us Americans must face and address our seemingly infinite addictions to waste).

So we ended up 3+ cups of jelly, to make these four jars, plus another not quite full for the fridge.

And I must mention that this pectin-free process can be used for other botanicals as well. Be creative!

It's quite lovely, a bit of spring sunshine in a jar and I owe my success to the spirit of Margaret Jean, my mother-in-law, who I invited to join me in the kitchen, because she was the jelly-maker of jelly-makers. ::nods::

Peace. 🕊

A version of this entry was originally posted May 19, 2020 at When Weeds Whisper.

Tomato Anticipation

Behold... a sample section of the greenhouse tomato plants, well protected, yet experiencing cooler nights, and - especially when the sun comes out - warmer days. They’re toughening up nicely as they wait for the day - still weeks off - when their roots will embrace the earth.

🕊🌱🍅🌱🕊

rose

May Day Blessings

May Day blessings, my friends – the sacred day of standing in solidarity with workers around the globe, and of honoring the agricultural midpoint between spring 'n' summer.

My tradition for May Day/Beltaine – and all the heathen holy days – is to manifest a creation to honor the season. Sometimes it’s a wand, a wreath, a garland, a posy, a tincture, an infused oil, or some thing else, like today….

 Today I’m making a small batch of a simple Dandelion Liqueur, leveraging a recipe shared a while back by Connecticut Herb Association member, Pam Brundage:

- Fresh dandelion petals

- Peel of an organic lemon

- One part honey

- Three parts vodka

- Shake daily for 2 to 3 weeks before imbibing

Here I'm using a dried orange slice, as well as some fresh Clementine peel, and a lesser ratio of honey to vodka. This really is a “to taste “process. And three weeks is my sweet spot for macerating. Once this is strained ‘n’ bottled, I like to let it sit for at least another three weeks before imbibing.

Given the season in my little corner of the world, and the simplicity of this creation, I hope you’ll give it a go if spring, with its dandelion blooms, graces your May Day.

rose