I don't know about the rest of you, but I have periods in my herbal life when things seem very mundane and uninteresting and then something happens which is just so exciting it takes your breath away. That happened to me today, so I thought I would share.
Part of my apprentices' tasks, which I am sharing, is to find a herbal ally for the year and observe, grow and make things from them. My ally is sweet violet, viola odorata. I have a patch of violets at the bottom of my garden grown from a transplant from my parent's farm which was in turn transplanted from the local stone quarry/tip where my sister and I used to play as children nearly fifty years ago.
In the autumn, I gathered a bag full of leaves to dry and I've been trying them as a herbal tea. They are pleasant when drunk with food, but not especially exciting. Now the violet flowers are blooming, I promised myself I would make my first batch of violet syrup. I first came across this in Susun Weed's "Healing Wise" book and Zoe Hawes uses the same methodology in her recipe for violet syrup in "Wild drugs, a forager's guide to healing plants".
The basic recipe is to fill a clean glass jar with violet flowers, cover with boiling water and leave overnight with the lid screwed on. The next day, strain and measure the infused liquid. For every 7fl ozs of liquid add 5 ozs of sugar. Zoe Hawes also recommends adding a good squeeze of lemon juice. Put all the ingredients into a pan and bring to the boil and simmer for a couple of minutes. Pour the resulting syrup into a sterilised bottle or jar, seal, label and date. Store in the fridge and discard if it starts going mouldy. The suggested dosage for a child’s cough or slight constipation is 1-2tsps given at bedtime. If you are making this for a child under two years old and usually make your syrups with honey, use sugar this time.
I gathered the plants yesterday morning after my planned trip to Sheffield had to be aborted at the last minute. There weren't very many flowers, but I covered them with a cupful of boiling water and sealed them in a glass jar for 24 hours. (The recipe says overnight, but I was busy this morning and couldn't get back to them until early afternoon.)
The strained liquid smelt green and uninviting and tasted of nothing much. I was expecting a subtle aroma of violet, but I think it was too cold for the flowers to produce any scent! For 5 fl ozs (1cup) of liquid I added 3ozs of sugar and put it in a pan to bring to the boil while sterilising a glass jar in the oven. Zoe's recipe suggested adding a good squeeze of lemon juice to the mixture, so I found a forgotten half lemon in the fridge, squeezed it and added the juice to the heating syrup.
This is where the magic occured - the syrup suddenly turned the most delightful shade of pink! I wanted to dance around the kitchen with excitement!. I realise it was probably just a litmus reaction to adding the acidic lemon juice, but it would be a fantastic demonstration to show children! (Not quite as good as watching St John's wort oil turn red, but similar and much quicker!)
When the syrup had been brought to the boil and simmered for a couple of minutes, I strained it out through muslin into the sterilised jar, labelled and dated it and left it to cool on the kitchen table. It's now safely in the fridge waiting for a child to emerge with either a cough or constipation. (Don't you love it when herbs can be used for such different things!)
Showing posts with label syrup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label syrup. Show all posts
Saturday, 5 March 2011
Friday, 6 November 2009
Sloes and a slice of history!
The Indian summer of September and October has finally disappeared. Clocks going back to Greenwich Mean Time seemed to herald a return of normal temperatures and lots of rain. Before this happened, I managed to achieve three field walks, one in the Cotswolds and two in the town.
During our last visit to the farm for the woodworking workshop on October 24th, I was anxious to pick more sloes and rosehips to try making a hedgerow tonic. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday morning. After pulling all the bark off my crampbark prunings, I made my way outside to a neighbouring field armed with a wicker basket and my late great-uncle’s walking stick.
As I opened the small hunting gate into the field, twenty partridges and a cock pheasant who were sheltering against the wall next to our barn flew up into the bright blue sky. I was so sorry to have disturbed them. There were lots of sloes on the trees, although most of them had dried up. I also found a good handful or more of late blackberries. There were even some blackberry flowers which showed how unseasonal the weather was!
I was very grateful to have Uncle Arthur’s walking stick as it made it much easier to reach all the fruit which was above my height. When I came to the open gate, I saw two horses coming along the road, so I hid behind the huge pile of lucerne bales in plastic covers so they couldn’t see me and wouldn’t be spooked. I was very surprised to find a host of dandelion flowers by the bales, so I picked them for the tonic.
There were cows about to calve in the field where I picked rosehips the last time I visited my parents, so I decided not to disturb them and made my way up the side of my original field and found a large bush with bright, ripe rosehips just waiting to be picked. Chris had to come and call me in to dinner as I’d been having too much fun out in the fresh air!
We were supposed to fly off to a long weekend in the sun last weekend, but the online ticket order wasn’t recognised, so we decided to forget about it and I spent a happy five days pottering at home with my herbs and knitting needles.
After four days of being shut in an office, only able to see sunshine through distant windows made me desperate to be outside. I was able to sort out some dried herbs and some sewing whilst sitting on the bench underneath the kitchen window, but in the afternoon, I took my basket and wellington boots and ventured around the corner into the Friary field.
Our area in Olton (literally Old Town) has an interesting history. I live on Kineton Green Road. The word, Kineton, means King’s Mead i.e. the land belonged to the King rather than to the nearest Abbey.
Interestingly, all parishes called Kineton are still managed through the Queen’s personal offices. When the Gloucestershire parishes of Upper and Lower Slaughter, Kineton, Cutsdean, Temple Guiting and Naunton were merged into one benefice in the early 1980s, permission had to be granted by the Queen for Kineton to be included. Wawickshire also has a village called Kineton near Edgehill where one of the early battles of the second Civil war were fought.
Olton was originally farm land, benefitting from the introduction of the Great Western Railway from Leamington Spa to Birmingham and the Warwickshire canal. The first Catholic bishop of Birmingham, William Ullathorne, built St. Bernard's Seminary at Olton in 1873, giving its name to the road.
In 1889 his successor moved the seminary to Oscott and the Franciscan Friars, Capuchin, bought the site, bringing the Roman Catholic Parish into being. They built and opened the church of the Holy Ghost and Mary Immaculate (otherwise known as Olton Friary) in 1929. Fr. Pascal built the parish hall in 1955. I used to take the children to the Tuesday afternoon mother and toddler group in the parish hall as it was only a five minute walk from our house.
The Friary also leased land to the Jewish community, so there is a synagogue right next to the churchyard! I often see people walking along St Bernard’s road heading for Friday night or Saturday prayers. The friars provided a Catholic chaplain to Solihull Hospital for many years.
During the late 1980s, planning permission was sought to build on the remaining five-acre field in the parish next to the Friary. Permission was granted, provided that one acre was left as public land for people to walk their dogs.
You can still see where original hedgerows divided ups the land. Amongst the trees are elder, hazel, holly and hawthorn, which are normal hedging trees. As you enter the field there are a group of ancient horse chestnut trees, where I gather my conkers in August for tincture or infused oil. It was lucky I came here in August because the squirrels appear to have eaten the majority of the conkers. There was nothing left besides pieces of seed casing and bright fragments of conker shell.
High banks were built around the Friary itself to preserve the privacy of the car park with elder and laurel planted at the top of the bank. Over the past five years I have noticed how blackthorn has taken over the sides of the banks. It’s never mown or slashed, so they just keep on growing. Most of the trees are still too small to bear sloes, but I found some wonderful juicy berries on older trees, all of whom had lost their leaves.
I’d noticed some dog roses on the top of the bank in the spring, but as they didn’t look quite like the ones I’m familiar with, I didn’t pick any. Luckily, they’d made some beautiful large rosehips, so I climbed up through tall nettles and small blackthorn bushes and picked a large handful. I was very glad I’d got my wellingtons on!
What really made me laugh (and cry at the same time inside!) was a dog walker who wanted to know what was in my basket. He looked quite perturbed when he saw the rosehips.
“Are you sure those are edible?” he asked me and when I reminded him of the rosehip syrup he must have drunk as a child, he said, “I always thought those were deadly nightshade and poisonous!”
I’ve had the same thing said to me when I’ve been picking haws from trees there. It makes me want to lecture people about what is edible and what isn’t!
As the weather was still glorious on Saturday, I returned to the field in the afternoon to pick nettle seed. I’d seen lots of nettles in just the right stage when I’d been wandering around the previous afternoon, but I didn’t have any gloves or secuteurs with me and I don’t like picking nettle seed without them.
I got a huge basket full which are destined for my friend Debs’ husband Simon. It’s hoped they will act as a replacement for Ashwaghanda roots to give him more energy until we can grow some more plants from seeds harvested this year.
Half of the sloes picked went into the freezer for Debs to make some infused sloe vodka and the rest I made into sloe and rose hip cordial with lemon juice. It was the best tasting cordial I have made so far!
Spiced Sloe Cordial
1lb sloes
4oz blackberries (less than one handful),
4oz rosehips(about a handful)
1 cinnamon stick
½ freshly grated nutmeg
1 inch root ginger (peeled and chopped into tiny pieces – optional)
1 doz yellow dandelion petals from about a dozen dandelion flowers (optional).
Cover everything with water in a medium sized saucepan and cook at a gentle simmer for half an hour. When everything seems cooked, liquidise and then strain it through a seive to remove all seeds and other hard bits. Recover what is stuck on the sides of the liquidiser with some boiled water to make the liquid up to 1 and 1/4 pints. Add 1 and a 1/4 lbs sugar to the liquid back in the washed saucepan and heat gently until the sugar has all melted. Pour into sterilised bottles, seal, label and date.
It tastes wonderful. It is definitely astringent, which goes with what Glennie Kindred wrote about blackthorn in that it is helpful for diarrhoea, but very comforting when drunk warm.
Sloe/Rosehip Cordial
1lb sloes
1/2lb rise rosehips
I added 2 pints of water and the juice and zest of half a lemon and simmered for about an hour until the rosehips are soft. (I was outside de-petalling dried calendula flowers and hanging out washing, so I just let it get on with it!). I ignored it for most of the day and came back to it around 5pm, so it had cooled down by then. I liquidised it and then tasted it. It wasn't bitter or sour and tasted very much like blackberries - still an astringency in my mouth, but not unpleasant. It was 2 pints of liquid, so I added 2lbs of sugar and brought it back to the boil. It tasted a little too sweet, so I added juice from another whole lemon.
I have to tell you I am totally in love with sloes and rosehips. It tastes even better as a simple syrup than it did as a spiced one, and that was really good. I cut some lemon peel and put it in a mug together with some recently boiled water and the dregs from the saucepan. I gave it to Chris to try and he almost wouldn't let me have the mug back. I've never seen him that enthusiastic about a syrup before!
If you know where your blackthorn trees are locally and haven't searched for sloes yet, you might still find some. Believe me, it's worth it!
During our last visit to the farm for the woodworking workshop on October 24th, I was anxious to pick more sloes and rosehips to try making a hedgerow tonic. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday morning. After pulling all the bark off my crampbark prunings, I made my way outside to a neighbouring field armed with a wicker basket and my late great-uncle’s walking stick.
As I opened the small hunting gate into the field, twenty partridges and a cock pheasant who were sheltering against the wall next to our barn flew up into the bright blue sky. I was so sorry to have disturbed them. There were lots of sloes on the trees, although most of them had dried up. I also found a good handful or more of late blackberries. There were even some blackberry flowers which showed how unseasonal the weather was!
I was very grateful to have Uncle Arthur’s walking stick as it made it much easier to reach all the fruit which was above my height. When I came to the open gate, I saw two horses coming along the road, so I hid behind the huge pile of lucerne bales in plastic covers so they couldn’t see me and wouldn’t be spooked. I was very surprised to find a host of dandelion flowers by the bales, so I picked them for the tonic.
There were cows about to calve in the field where I picked rosehips the last time I visited my parents, so I decided not to disturb them and made my way up the side of my original field and found a large bush with bright, ripe rosehips just waiting to be picked. Chris had to come and call me in to dinner as I’d been having too much fun out in the fresh air!
We were supposed to fly off to a long weekend in the sun last weekend, but the online ticket order wasn’t recognised, so we decided to forget about it and I spent a happy five days pottering at home with my herbs and knitting needles.
After four days of being shut in an office, only able to see sunshine through distant windows made me desperate to be outside. I was able to sort out some dried herbs and some sewing whilst sitting on the bench underneath the kitchen window, but in the afternoon, I took my basket and wellington boots and ventured around the corner into the Friary field.
Our area in Olton (literally Old Town) has an interesting history. I live on Kineton Green Road. The word, Kineton, means King’s Mead i.e. the land belonged to the King rather than to the nearest Abbey.
Interestingly, all parishes called Kineton are still managed through the Queen’s personal offices. When the Gloucestershire parishes of Upper and Lower Slaughter, Kineton, Cutsdean, Temple Guiting and Naunton were merged into one benefice in the early 1980s, permission had to be granted by the Queen for Kineton to be included. Wawickshire also has a village called Kineton near Edgehill where one of the early battles of the second Civil war were fought.
Olton was originally farm land, benefitting from the introduction of the Great Western Railway from Leamington Spa to Birmingham and the Warwickshire canal. The first Catholic bishop of Birmingham, William Ullathorne, built St. Bernard's Seminary at Olton in 1873, giving its name to the road.
In 1889 his successor moved the seminary to Oscott and the Franciscan Friars, Capuchin, bought the site, bringing the Roman Catholic Parish into being. They built and opened the church of the Holy Ghost and Mary Immaculate (otherwise known as Olton Friary) in 1929. Fr. Pascal built the parish hall in 1955. I used to take the children to the Tuesday afternoon mother and toddler group in the parish hall as it was only a five minute walk from our house.
The Friary also leased land to the Jewish community, so there is a synagogue right next to the churchyard! I often see people walking along St Bernard’s road heading for Friday night or Saturday prayers. The friars provided a Catholic chaplain to Solihull Hospital for many years.
During the late 1980s, planning permission was sought to build on the remaining five-acre field in the parish next to the Friary. Permission was granted, provided that one acre was left as public land for people to walk their dogs.
You can still see where original hedgerows divided ups the land. Amongst the trees are elder, hazel, holly and hawthorn, which are normal hedging trees. As you enter the field there are a group of ancient horse chestnut trees, where I gather my conkers in August for tincture or infused oil. It was lucky I came here in August because the squirrels appear to have eaten the majority of the conkers. There was nothing left besides pieces of seed casing and bright fragments of conker shell.
High banks were built around the Friary itself to preserve the privacy of the car park with elder and laurel planted at the top of the bank. Over the past five years I have noticed how blackthorn has taken over the sides of the banks. It’s never mown or slashed, so they just keep on growing. Most of the trees are still too small to bear sloes, but I found some wonderful juicy berries on older trees, all of whom had lost their leaves.
I’d noticed some dog roses on the top of the bank in the spring, but as they didn’t look quite like the ones I’m familiar with, I didn’t pick any. Luckily, they’d made some beautiful large rosehips, so I climbed up through tall nettles and small blackthorn bushes and picked a large handful. I was very glad I’d got my wellingtons on!
What really made me laugh (and cry at the same time inside!) was a dog walker who wanted to know what was in my basket. He looked quite perturbed when he saw the rosehips.
“Are you sure those are edible?” he asked me and when I reminded him of the rosehip syrup he must have drunk as a child, he said, “I always thought those were deadly nightshade and poisonous!”
I’ve had the same thing said to me when I’ve been picking haws from trees there. It makes me want to lecture people about what is edible and what isn’t!
As the weather was still glorious on Saturday, I returned to the field in the afternoon to pick nettle seed. I’d seen lots of nettles in just the right stage when I’d been wandering around the previous afternoon, but I didn’t have any gloves or secuteurs with me and I don’t like picking nettle seed without them.
I got a huge basket full which are destined for my friend Debs’ husband Simon. It’s hoped they will act as a replacement for Ashwaghanda roots to give him more energy until we can grow some more plants from seeds harvested this year.
Half of the sloes picked went into the freezer for Debs to make some infused sloe vodka and the rest I made into sloe and rose hip cordial with lemon juice. It was the best tasting cordial I have made so far!
Spiced Sloe Cordial
1lb sloes
4oz blackberries (less than one handful),
4oz rosehips(about a handful)
1 cinnamon stick
½ freshly grated nutmeg
1 inch root ginger (peeled and chopped into tiny pieces – optional)
1 doz yellow dandelion petals from about a dozen dandelion flowers (optional).
Cover everything with water in a medium sized saucepan and cook at a gentle simmer for half an hour. When everything seems cooked, liquidise and then strain it through a seive to remove all seeds and other hard bits. Recover what is stuck on the sides of the liquidiser with some boiled water to make the liquid up to 1 and 1/4 pints. Add 1 and a 1/4 lbs sugar to the liquid back in the washed saucepan and heat gently until the sugar has all melted. Pour into sterilised bottles, seal, label and date.
It tastes wonderful. It is definitely astringent, which goes with what Glennie Kindred wrote about blackthorn in that it is helpful for diarrhoea, but very comforting when drunk warm.
Sloe/Rosehip Cordial
1lb sloes
1/2lb rise rosehips
I added 2 pints of water and the juice and zest of half a lemon and simmered for about an hour until the rosehips are soft. (I was outside de-petalling dried calendula flowers and hanging out washing, so I just let it get on with it!). I ignored it for most of the day and came back to it around 5pm, so it had cooled down by then. I liquidised it and then tasted it. It wasn't bitter or sour and tasted very much like blackberries - still an astringency in my mouth, but not unpleasant. It was 2 pints of liquid, so I added 2lbs of sugar and brought it back to the boil. It tasted a little too sweet, so I added juice from another whole lemon.
I have to tell you I am totally in love with sloes and rosehips. It tastes even better as a simple syrup than it did as a spiced one, and that was really good. I cut some lemon peel and put it in a mug together with some recently boiled water and the dregs from the saucepan. I gave it to Chris to try and he almost wouldn't let me have the mug back. I've never seen him that enthusiastic about a syrup before!
If you know where your blackthorn trees are locally and haven't searched for sloes yet, you might still find some. Believe me, it's worth it!
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Cherries, dandelions and blue eggs
I love going away in the caravan. It is probably the only time I can relax and forget most of my responsibilities. I can go to bed when I’m tired and enjoy lazily getting up – no alarm clocks, no train to catch and no 9-5 working day.
It was actually work which took us away. Providing a training session in Chesterfield so close to the Bank Holiday seemed a perfect excuse to spend time in the Peak District doing very little in beautiful surroundings. Even the weather co-operated, allowing us to spend a gentle day ambling around the Crich tramway museum followed by a day of knitting in the open air before we braved the hordes of Bakewell to pick up a tart and a pudding to take home with us.
The first place we stayed was a small site attached to a converted farmhouse with a couple of acres in Old Brampton, just outside Chesterfield. It only took fifteen minutes to drive across to the hospital where I was teaching on an NVQ course at midday, but nearly forty minutes when Chris tried to collect me at 4pm after I’d finished. Luckily I had Angela Paine’s “The Healing Power of Celtic Plants” and a banana with me so I was able to sit on a bench outside the education centre and read until he finally arrived.
We parked the caravan next to a small orchard leading onto a grass field which housed two grey ponies, one of which was supposed to be foaling in the near future. Opening the curtains each morning allowed me to contemplate the glories of cherry trees, wishing I could beg some bark to try to make some of Ananda’s cherry elixir.
We have a cherry tree overhanging our garden, so when it flowers next spring, I shall be experimenting with a bough which reaches over our side of the fence.
Derbyshire’s peak district was three to four weeks behind us in flowering terms. Although the cherries were well formed, the apple trees were just blooming and I got to see my first lime flowers. The trees were very mature and way too high for me to even think about harvesting. My tiny short-leaf lime trees in the Sanctuary are about four year old now and I’m wondering how soon it will be before I will have my own lime flowers to savour.
I use lime sparingly as I have to buy it. I love the flowers in a soothing tea with lemon balm and I add the tincture to my daily medicine.
This small holding was notable for the wide variety of hens and cockerels which roamed around the farmyard. I recognised Welsummers and Marans as my mother loves these breeds which lay brown eggs with deep orange yolks. Chris had forgotten to pack our farm eggs in the rush to get away, so he asked the owner if we could have some from his flock. Imagine our surprise when the requested dozen arrived complete with two large blue eggs accompanying the white and brown. We learned later the blue eggs came from Anaconas, but I still am no wiser which hens were which! If anyone can identify the different breeds, I’d be very grateful!
I have posted many times about dandelions and did not intend to mention them again so soon. The syrup I made this year has been disappointing as Chris said it tasted too much like grass. Seeing dandelion flowers still blooming on the second certified location we stayed at Moor Edge Farm on the outskirts of Tansley near Matlock was too good an opportunity to waste.
While our friends went off to Nottingham to retrieve some of their son’s belongings from his university cupboard/hall of residence, I decided to forage. Dandelion flowers were first, but then I thought I’d combine them with something else and walked along the road for a short way to see what I could find.
There was a mature rowan tree in full bloom, but I’ve never seen a recipe for using the flowers, only the berries to make jelly or calm very sore throats with nodules from too much talking/singing.
On the grass verge I found some red clover blossoms and nearby was a hawthorn tree just coming out in blossom, so I added some handfuls to go with the dandelion flowers. It was truly blissful sitting outside in the sunshine removing dandelion petals from the green stems and creating a new flower syrup.
Normally I wouldn’t have a glass, screwtop bottle in the caravan, but I’d recycled one from a pear and elderflower drink bought at the Tramway museum the day before. If you’ve never visited, I can thoroughly recommend this open air reconstruction of a small high street with trams running up and down a mile long track showing spectacular views over the Derwent valley.
There is a newly opened woodland walk which was carpeted with flowering wild garlic. I have never seen such a beautiful sight! The local chain saw sculptor has made some stunning carvings from local felled wood. His green man had all of us spellbound.
Unfortunately all good things must come to an end and Monday evening saw us back at home. Luckily, with a couple of hours to spare, I was able to plant out my runner beans and some sweet corn seedlings I bought several weeks ago. The runner beans were far too large to leave in their pots another week as we’ll be down south at the Exmouth kite festival in two days time. The forecast is good, so maybe I’ll be able to finish my small contribution to the Milkweed project. I’m looking forward to sitting near to the coast while kites weave their magic in the sky.
It was actually work which took us away. Providing a training session in Chesterfield so close to the Bank Holiday seemed a perfect excuse to spend time in the Peak District doing very little in beautiful surroundings. Even the weather co-operated, allowing us to spend a gentle day ambling around the Crich tramway museum followed by a day of knitting in the open air before we braved the hordes of Bakewell to pick up a tart and a pudding to take home with us.
The first place we stayed was a small site attached to a converted farmhouse with a couple of acres in Old Brampton, just outside Chesterfield. It only took fifteen minutes to drive across to the hospital where I was teaching on an NVQ course at midday, but nearly forty minutes when Chris tried to collect me at 4pm after I’d finished. Luckily I had Angela Paine’s “The Healing Power of Celtic Plants” and a banana with me so I was able to sit on a bench outside the education centre and read until he finally arrived.
We parked the caravan next to a small orchard leading onto a grass field which housed two grey ponies, one of which was supposed to be foaling in the near future. Opening the curtains each morning allowed me to contemplate the glories of cherry trees, wishing I could beg some bark to try to make some of Ananda’s cherry elixir.
We have a cherry tree overhanging our garden, so when it flowers next spring, I shall be experimenting with a bough which reaches over our side of the fence.
Derbyshire’s peak district was three to four weeks behind us in flowering terms. Although the cherries were well formed, the apple trees were just blooming and I got to see my first lime flowers. The trees were very mature and way too high for me to even think about harvesting. My tiny short-leaf lime trees in the Sanctuary are about four year old now and I’m wondering how soon it will be before I will have my own lime flowers to savour.
I use lime sparingly as I have to buy it. I love the flowers in a soothing tea with lemon balm and I add the tincture to my daily medicine.
This small holding was notable for the wide variety of hens and cockerels which roamed around the farmyard. I recognised Welsummers and Marans as my mother loves these breeds which lay brown eggs with deep orange yolks. Chris had forgotten to pack our farm eggs in the rush to get away, so he asked the owner if we could have some from his flock. Imagine our surprise when the requested dozen arrived complete with two large blue eggs accompanying the white and brown. We learned later the blue eggs came from Anaconas, but I still am no wiser which hens were which! If anyone can identify the different breeds, I’d be very grateful!
I have posted many times about dandelions and did not intend to mention them again so soon. The syrup I made this year has been disappointing as Chris said it tasted too much like grass. Seeing dandelion flowers still blooming on the second certified location we stayed at Moor Edge Farm on the outskirts of Tansley near Matlock was too good an opportunity to waste.
While our friends went off to Nottingham to retrieve some of their son’s belongings from his university cupboard/hall of residence, I decided to forage. Dandelion flowers were first, but then I thought I’d combine them with something else and walked along the road for a short way to see what I could find.
There was a mature rowan tree in full bloom, but I’ve never seen a recipe for using the flowers, only the berries to make jelly or calm very sore throats with nodules from too much talking/singing.
On the grass verge I found some red clover blossoms and nearby was a hawthorn tree just coming out in blossom, so I added some handfuls to go with the dandelion flowers. It was truly blissful sitting outside in the sunshine removing dandelion petals from the green stems and creating a new flower syrup.
Normally I wouldn’t have a glass, screwtop bottle in the caravan, but I’d recycled one from a pear and elderflower drink bought at the Tramway museum the day before. If you’ve never visited, I can thoroughly recommend this open air reconstruction of a small high street with trams running up and down a mile long track showing spectacular views over the Derwent valley.
There is a newly opened woodland walk which was carpeted with flowering wild garlic. I have never seen such a beautiful sight! The local chain saw sculptor has made some stunning carvings from local felled wood. His green man had all of us spellbound.
Unfortunately all good things must come to an end and Monday evening saw us back at home. Luckily, with a couple of hours to spare, I was able to plant out my runner beans and some sweet corn seedlings I bought several weeks ago. The runner beans were far too large to leave in their pots another week as we’ll be down south at the Exmouth kite festival in two days time. The forecast is good, so maybe I’ll be able to finish my small contribution to the Milkweed project. I’m looking forward to sitting near to the coast while kites weave their magic in the sky.
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
Searching for lions in winter
Many people know dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) but few go hunting for it across fields in January. Standing in the middle of an empty five acres, gardening fork in one hand and a yellow washing up bowl in the other, I must have looked a strange sight to passing motorists or horse-riders trotting wearily home after a day’s hunting. Bitter wind sweeping down over the Cotswold hills made my eyes water, so I could hardly see and bending down made my nose run, necessitating the application of tissues every five minutes!
Luckily the ground was not frozen, nor was the soil too wet to release the dandelion roots when I found them. “Gather second year roots,” says Linda Ours Rago in her book, “Blackberry Cove Herbal: Healing with Common Herbs in the Appalachian Wise Woman Tradition”, but she doesn’t say how to recognise the difference between first, second or older roots by the crown of new leaves appearing on the surface.
What I discovered was that smaller roots seemed to have more leaves and thicker roots were only just sprouting a dark, green array. The thicker taproots are not like carrots, they are actually the product of several small roots – often from more than one plant- twisting around each other to reach up to half and inch diameter, but with a hollow centre.
It’s often easier to identify the roots once you have tipped the clod of earth upside down. The white root sap will gleam at you from the darkness of the soil, enabling you to almost “crack the clod open” to reveal the root in all its glory – no matter how small it is!
I love roots. I don’t enjoy digging them, especially not on my own, but there is a real sense of achievement and worthwhile effort when you’ve finished all the scrubbing and other preparation and the jar of new tincture is sitting on the table waiting to be put away to macerate.
I washed the roots, scrubbing them furiously before swilling in several changes of water. After that I cut them into small sections less than an inch long and about 1/4inch thick and put them on trays to dry in the fire oven for several hours. They came out very crisp but the leaves didn’t disintegrate on touch, which I would have expected if they had dried too long.
Normally I wouldn’t bother drying them, but they were so wet and my harvest was only half of what Chris and I gathered last year, so I decided to concentrate everything to try and extract the maximum amounts in vodka. It will be interesting to see how it turns out.
Seeing the crispness of the roots made me want to create a dandelion root chai with other spices. Unfortunately my coffee grinder isn’t working at the moment, so I shall have to wait until I gather my next batch of roots to try this out.
It seems only right that dandelion’s Latin name comes from Greek words 'taraxos' (disorder) and 'akos' (remedy), echoing the many centuries dandelions have been helping people. Its English name is derived from the French “dents de lion” meaning lion’s tooth referring to the serrated edge of the leaves. Of course the French have their own word for the plant – Pissenlit – which eloquently describes its diuretic nature.
There are so many different uses and recipes for dandelions. Brigitte Mars has written a wonderful little book called “Dandelion Medicine”. It’s out of print, but still available from the US. She provides a cornucopia of ideas from nourishing soups, fritters and pancakes to cosmetic uses of dandelions.
I played with dandelions a lot during 2008. She was a real ally in helping my body return to a state of balance where my ankles no longer swelled if I sat at my desk all day or stood in front of a group of people during one of my workshops.
The root is historically ally to the liver and Christopher Hedley recommends it for any digestive problems or long term treatment of gall-stones. When my hairdresser was complaining of digestive upsets several years ago, I recommended she try some dandelion tea. I warned her about the bitter taste, but she said she loved it!
Dandelion leaves support the kidneys and bring real excitement to any salad especially when coupled with sorrel leaves! The leaves are best picked before the plant flowers or they can become too bitter afterwards. I remember picking leaves in driving sleet last March, which not only shows how appalling our Easter weather was, but also how desperate I was to gather my own medicine and not be reliant on store-bought produce. Even when the leaves were dried, they still retained a more vibrant colour than the bought dandelion leaves.
My salads are never measured or weighed, but my friend, Debs Cook from The Herb Society produced a delightful dandelion salad and soup when she appeared last year in Countryfile on BBC1 last April. You can find the recipes here.
One of the new dandelion parts I played with last year was dandelion flower. We made the essence during a workshop in May. I thought the flower essence was for happiness, but I was delighted to see a wonderful story given in Matt Woods’ book, “The Practice of Traditional Western Herbalism” where an eight year old girl, who was being thoroughly obnoxious to her entire family, completely changed her nature when given a few drops of dandelion flower essence. Unfortunately I didn’t keep any of the flower remedy after the workshop but I shall be making some more this year to offer to harassed parents!
It was dandelion syrup which really turned Chris onto herbal products. I made two batches last Spring. We poured it over porridge for breakfast and Chris decided it made a really nice addition to his mid-morning coffee while I was away at work. I used Non Shaw and Christopher Hedley’s basic recipe for making syrups, inspired by Henriette’s eulogy about dandelion syrup in her blog.
I also made some dandelion flower salve. The sunshine yellow oil makes everyone smile! I was so glad I did, because one lady who came to my workshops had recently had a double mastectomy and she found the salve really helpful in soothing her scar tissue.
I have often thought you cannot really claim to know a plant until you have gathered and used every part of them. Although I have shared many experiences with dandelion, I suspect there are many more secrets she has yet to reveal!
Luckily the ground was not frozen, nor was the soil too wet to release the dandelion roots when I found them. “Gather second year roots,” says Linda Ours Rago in her book, “Blackberry Cove Herbal: Healing with Common Herbs in the Appalachian Wise Woman Tradition”, but she doesn’t say how to recognise the difference between first, second or older roots by the crown of new leaves appearing on the surface.
What I discovered was that smaller roots seemed to have more leaves and thicker roots were only just sprouting a dark, green array. The thicker taproots are not like carrots, they are actually the product of several small roots – often from more than one plant- twisting around each other to reach up to half and inch diameter, but with a hollow centre.
It’s often easier to identify the roots once you have tipped the clod of earth upside down. The white root sap will gleam at you from the darkness of the soil, enabling you to almost “crack the clod open” to reveal the root in all its glory – no matter how small it is!
I love roots. I don’t enjoy digging them, especially not on my own, but there is a real sense of achievement and worthwhile effort when you’ve finished all the scrubbing and other preparation and the jar of new tincture is sitting on the table waiting to be put away to macerate.
I washed the roots, scrubbing them furiously before swilling in several changes of water. After that I cut them into small sections less than an inch long and about 1/4inch thick and put them on trays to dry in the fire oven for several hours. They came out very crisp but the leaves didn’t disintegrate on touch, which I would have expected if they had dried too long.
Normally I wouldn’t bother drying them, but they were so wet and my harvest was only half of what Chris and I gathered last year, so I decided to concentrate everything to try and extract the maximum amounts in vodka. It will be interesting to see how it turns out.
Seeing the crispness of the roots made me want to create a dandelion root chai with other spices. Unfortunately my coffee grinder isn’t working at the moment, so I shall have to wait until I gather my next batch of roots to try this out.
It seems only right that dandelion’s Latin name comes from Greek words 'taraxos' (disorder) and 'akos' (remedy), echoing the many centuries dandelions have been helping people. Its English name is derived from the French “dents de lion” meaning lion’s tooth referring to the serrated edge of the leaves. Of course the French have their own word for the plant – Pissenlit – which eloquently describes its diuretic nature.
There are so many different uses and recipes for dandelions. Brigitte Mars has written a wonderful little book called “Dandelion Medicine”. It’s out of print, but still available from the US. She provides a cornucopia of ideas from nourishing soups, fritters and pancakes to cosmetic uses of dandelions.
I played with dandelions a lot during 2008. She was a real ally in helping my body return to a state of balance where my ankles no longer swelled if I sat at my desk all day or stood in front of a group of people during one of my workshops.
The root is historically ally to the liver and Christopher Hedley recommends it for any digestive problems or long term treatment of gall-stones. When my hairdresser was complaining of digestive upsets several years ago, I recommended she try some dandelion tea. I warned her about the bitter taste, but she said she loved it!
Dandelion leaves support the kidneys and bring real excitement to any salad especially when coupled with sorrel leaves! The leaves are best picked before the plant flowers or they can become too bitter afterwards. I remember picking leaves in driving sleet last March, which not only shows how appalling our Easter weather was, but also how desperate I was to gather my own medicine and not be reliant on store-bought produce. Even when the leaves were dried, they still retained a more vibrant colour than the bought dandelion leaves.
My salads are never measured or weighed, but my friend, Debs Cook from The Herb Society produced a delightful dandelion salad and soup when she appeared last year in Countryfile on BBC1 last April. You can find the recipes here.
One of the new dandelion parts I played with last year was dandelion flower. We made the essence during a workshop in May. I thought the flower essence was for happiness, but I was delighted to see a wonderful story given in Matt Woods’ book, “The Practice of Traditional Western Herbalism” where an eight year old girl, who was being thoroughly obnoxious to her entire family, completely changed her nature when given a few drops of dandelion flower essence. Unfortunately I didn’t keep any of the flower remedy after the workshop but I shall be making some more this year to offer to harassed parents!
It was dandelion syrup which really turned Chris onto herbal products. I made two batches last Spring. We poured it over porridge for breakfast and Chris decided it made a really nice addition to his mid-morning coffee while I was away at work. I used Non Shaw and Christopher Hedley’s basic recipe for making syrups, inspired by Henriette’s eulogy about dandelion syrup in her blog.
I also made some dandelion flower salve. The sunshine yellow oil makes everyone smile! I was so glad I did, because one lady who came to my workshops had recently had a double mastectomy and she found the salve really helpful in soothing her scar tissue.
I have often thought you cannot really claim to know a plant until you have gathered and used every part of them. Although I have shared many experiences with dandelion, I suspect there are many more secrets she has yet to reveal!
Saturday, 28 June 2008
Celebrating the solstice with St John’s wort
I have been growing SJW for at least twelve years. It was one of the first specialist herbs I bought to grow in my garden. I couldn’t believe anything so delicate could provide such strong and helpful medicine, but it does!
Each spring I cut down the dead stalks of the plant and watch with bated breath as the tiny fronds emerge from the soil. This year it was March when I took the first photo. By the beginning of May the stalks were about four inches high and now they wave delicately around from a height of about two feet.
The tiny flowers are perfect stars – so perfect and bright it is almost impossible to get a picture in focus! Each year I make a sun infused oil and tincture. If there is profusion, or I find a bonus harvest elsewhere as I did last year at Birmingham International Railway station car park, then I might make a SAD syrup and dry some for ritual use.SJW is thought to be a cleansing herb which repels negativity. It can be used in the bath for purification. It can also be used in rites of purification and exorcism.
Most people know SJW as a nervine, helpful in mild to moderate depression. They forget or are unaware of its other properties as an anti-viral, healer of burns and general external “heal all”. I won’t go into its constituents as that is something for others to comment on. I’m just interested in its uses.I’m fortunate in that I don’t suffer with depression. There are times when I’m sad or emotionally upset, but I tend to turn to other nerviness – lemon balm, skullcap and vervain – before using SJW tincture for myself. I don’t think I’ve ever tried SJW tea – maybe I should add fresh SJW tea to my list of “new things to try” this year and see how it makes me feel!
Henriette recommends SJW for the pain and depression of grief, when everyone needs extra comfort and support through difficult times.
My dearest love of SJW is the oil. It is perhaps the greatest wonder of the herbal world to cover yellow star flowers in yellow sunflower oil, place it in a sunny window and watch as the oil begins to darken and finally turns a deep and glorious red. It has a very distinct smell entirely its own. There is no need for other perfume when you make the salve.
I use the oil in virtually every salve I make. I use it alone to deal with the itching and ache of venous degeneration in my ankles or to spread on burns after the heat has been taken out, with marshmallow as a diabetic foot salve, with calendula and marshmallow as a general winter salve, with calendula and chickweed for infected eczema, with elderflower to moisturise my face, with calendula, marshmallow and lovage in my “ladies’ lubrication salve” and with rosemary to make a massage oil for sciatica or arthritic joint pain.
I’ve also made a sunburn soother by adding SJW, calendula and aloe vera gel from the inside of freshly cut leaves to an aqueous cream base. I took it on holiday toTo make a salve, use 1oz of grated beeswax to every 8oz of infused oil. Heat gently in a double boiler saucepan until the wax has melted, then pour into clean pots. Label and date. Store in a cool dark place and the salve should last unopened for at least two years.
40 g (1 1/2 oz) dried herb or 100g (4oz) fresh chopped herb
450 g (1 lb) sugar
Remember lemon balm only has a shelf life of 6months when dry, so if you buy some from a supplier, ask when it was picked. You should also pick the leaves before they flower, but if most of my plants have flowered when I make syrup, I try to pick as many secondary shoots as I can (shoots which grow up from stems cut earlier in the year).
Before the herbs simmer in the water, I add the grated rind of a lemon and when the syrup is finished, I add the juice of a lemon so it isn’t too sickly. I add lemon or orange juice to a lot of my syrups and use them more as hot cordials than taking 1 tsp at a time.
The dosage for SAD syrup would be around 1tsp three times a day. Don't use this syrup if you are already taking SSRI drugs for depression or if you've had a bad reaction to SJW in the past. Some people who take medication for migraine conditions find it can bring on a migraine.
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