I have come to the conclusion that if a plant wants to work with you, they come into your life and their relationship is an easy and fruitful one. This is certainly my experience with Ashwagandha. Being a native of the Indian subcontinent, you wouldn’t expect it to flourish in our relatively cold and wet climate, but for the past three years it has cheerfully grown to maturity, flowered and fruited despite dreadful summers with rain bringing constant soggy growing conditions.
My two original plants came from Debs Cook as seedlings in 2009. From their seeds I gave some away and grew a dozen or so more, but none of them flowered or fruited and although I tried to overwinter the plants, the severe weather conditions killed them all.
Luckily, one of my apprentices had more success with her plants and gave me three cherries. From those seeds I grew sixty plants over the summer and by October felt I could finally harvest and begin to work with the roots.
It was fascinating to see how different plants in different locations had matured in different ways. Those growing in straight lines in the new herb bed were taller, produced more fruit and their roots were twice the volume of their cousins planted in squares in the original herb bed. After washing and scrubbing of the soil, half the roots were tinctured and the remainder chopped up into thin, inch long pieces and dried in my hot cupboard in a paper bag.
The ashwagandha plant and fruit has no discernible smell. I purchased root powder from Baldwins a year or so ago and that too had no smell. My home grown roots smelled distinctive and earthy. In the four or so days between harvested and preparation, they filled the entire outhouse with their particular scent. The tincture tastes as the root smells, dominating other tinctures in my morning tonic and the dried roots also kept their smell when I finally transferred them from paper bag to glass jar last Friday (after nearly three months in the hot cupboard in a paper bag).
Last Saturday was my first workshop of the year. We were studying tonics, so it seemed a good opportunity to try some new ways of experiencing ashwagandha. The night before, I took 25g of purchased root (which was possibly twice as thick as my own) and covered it with cold water. On Saturday morning, the water was transformed into a noticeably more viscous liquid. The roots and fluid were divided into half. One half was simmered with milk and a small handful of three year old apothecary’s rose petals (which retained both colour and scent!) for 30 minutes and the same was done using almond milk with the other half.
Both groups who tasted the Ashwaganda milk commented on its distinctive, nourishing flavour. Everyone enjoyed it. I tasted the cow’s milk version and found it pleasant despite the noticeably bitter aftertaste on the very back of my tongue.
Both Kiva Rose Hardin and Gail Faith Edwards recommend using rose petals to counteract ashwagandha’s warming effects, rather than using the herb on its own. Kiva also suggests pairing it with milky oats for adrenal exhaustion or with nettle seed for those people who have absolutely no energy. In her wonderful article, she offers a useful formula of 2 parts Ashwagandha, 2 parts Nettle, 1 part Peach, and 1/2 part each Lemon Balm and Rose as her personal favourite treatment for adrenal exhaustion, but says, “This is very cooling and calming, and could be made a bit more stimulating and warming with the omission of the Peach and the addition of Rosemary in its stead and a 1/2 part fresh Ginger.”
I’ve not yet worked with Peach as my poor tree has been afflicted with leaf curl since I bought it nearly four years ago. We moved it to a more sunny and sheltered position by the barn wall last spring so I am hopefully it might begin to flourish one day!
There are still ten plants sitting either on windowsills or on the table in my garden summerhouse. Some leaves are dropping, but others are vibrant and green. I am watering them sparingly and have just installed a heater into the summerhouse as the forecast for this next week predicts frosts of several minus degrees centigrade.
The cherries this year were slow to turn from green to orange, so I have harvested the fruits in batches – discarding those which failed to mature and setting the bright orange ones to dry in paper bags and envelopes.
Ten cherries have been given to an apprentice whose ally this year is ashwagandha. She made the point of visiting the plants in the summerhouse as well as the one I’d brought down for the workshop attendees to admire and help themselves to a fruit to take home with them. She emailed me the following day saying, “I was affected deeply by my first real contact with her, so was left a bit dumbstruck.”
Ashwagandha does that to you. You watch her spring to life from a tiny seed, then grow to green maturity in four short months. Her lantern-like fruit pods hide the growing cherries and it is not until those lanterns turn from green to dry brown you notice her vibrant and truly amazing fruits. More months pass until those fruits become winkled and you can carefully peel off the scarlet covering to reveal the white seeds inside; seeds which can be planted to begin the circle once again.
She is a truly nourishing plant. Not only does she feed your depleted systems, she teaches and helps you to grow in so many different ways. Next year I shall try making a healing salve from her leaves and I look forward to another abundant harvest of roots and fruits.
Showing posts with label tonics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tonics. Show all posts
Monday, 16 January 2012
Friday, 16 December 2011
Tonics: a lesson in trust and sufficiency from rose
Two days ago I received an email from one of my new apprentices asking what I would recommend as a tonic she could give to her patients. Her question inspired me to write a blog post which I began yesterday.
Tonic is one of those words which you think you know, but when you take time to consider its meaning, the totality escapes you.
When I’m confused I usually turn to Jim MacDonald’s website because he has such a wealth of information and he puts things in ways which can be easily understood.
Browsing through his terms, I found he had written, “"Tonic" is a dreadfully problematic term, because it has so many meanings and can be applied in so many different ways. Really, without using an adjective to qualify what kind of tonic it is, the noun "tonic" is close to useless. To be practical, most people intend to convey that a tonic is an herb that builds up your energy and health and is good for you.”
Jim then went on to quote from a draft copy of Matthew Wood’s Practice of Traditional Western Herbalism, saying that it offered one of the better definitions of the word “tonic”, in that it allowed for all the different manifestations this vague category may take. I looked through my copy of Wood’s book, but I couldn’t find the definition, so I was especially grateful for Jim’s note.
Matt Woods wrote, “A tonic is usually an herb or food that acts on the body in a slow, nutritive fashion to build up the substance of the body. In this sense, the term "tonic" might be considered synonymous with "trophorestorative". It can also be defined as a substance which (like an astringent) restrains loss from the body by "toning" tissues.”
He offers the following categories tonics may fall into: Bitter tonics are used to strengthen and nourish the liver and metabolism (mostly alteratives,), Sweet tonics act primarily on the immune system and adrenals (adaptogens). Oily tonics supply fixed oils and essential fatty acids to tissues to ensure hydration, cell permeability and to prevent atrophy. Mineral tonics provide essential minerals, and sour tonics are rich in bioflavinoids. Protein tonics are rich in protein.
I then turned to Kiva Rose Hardin’s blog and searched for tonics. The first articles offered two tonics, one for the heart made from Choke Cherries and another made from the wild rose.
Chokecherry Heart Tonic
1/4 C Chokecherry bark or bark/flower tincture
1/2 C Chokecherry fruit concentrate or syrup (possibly more if your concentrate isn’t strong tasting, ours is very intense and flavourful but the stuff you get from stores is often tasteless and terribly sweet and just don’t work for this)
1 C Brandy
Sugar/honey to taste (very optional, just depends on your syrup and sense of taste)
1/4 tsp of Cinnamon tincture (or a good pinch of powdered cinnamon)
1 tsp Ginger infused honey (or just add a good pinch of fresh grated ginger)
Generous splash of Merlot or Elderberry mead (optional)
Mix together in pint jar and shake well, allow to age for at least a month. This stuff is strong and somewhat mind-altering (in a relaxing kind of way), so use in small doses. It’s an excellent heart strengthener for people with signs of inflammation, high blood pressure, heart palpitations and general heat symptoms.
Choke cherries don’t grow over here and I’ve never seen them in the shops, which is disappointing because the recipe looks delicious. I’m wondering if I could substitute hawthorn instead or if my hawthorn berry brandy liqueur would be a good alternative.
Hawthorn Liqueur
To a jar full of infused hawthorn berry brandy, add 1 grated nutmeg, one cinnamon stick (crumbled), the chopped peel of one orange, 4 cloves and ½-1 cup full of sugar or honey. Seal the jar with a screw top lid, place in a warm, dark place for 8 weeks shaking regularly, then strain and pour into a sterile bottle. Seal the bottle with a screw top lid or cork and leave in a cold dark place to mature for as long as possible (at least two years).
Wild Rose Tonic
First, make a half pint of infused honey with finely chopped, de-seeded fresh wild rose hips, plus 1 tsp grated fresh ginger, 1 tsp. grated fresh orange peel and 1/4 tsp cardamom. Let infuse for one month, do not strain.
Then:
1 C spiced Wild Rose hip honey (as seen above)
3 Tbs Wild Rose petal tincture (or more, as desired for flavour)
1 C Brandy or Cognac
Mix together in a pint jar and shake well, allow to age for at least one month. This cordial/tonic is relaxing, uplifting and wonderful as a heart tonic, nervine, anti-inflammatory and bioflavanoid rich blood tonic. For a real treat, make a small cup of half Chokecherry Heart Tonic and half Wild Rose Tonic.
When I read through the Wild Rose Tonic, something strange happened. I knew I needed to make the spiced rosehip honey. I made rosehip honey nearly three years ago by liquidising freshly gathered rosehips with runny honey. It tasted delicious, but the seeds were a pain. I wanted to make the honey this year using de-seeded rosehips, but when I gathered my hips from the Sanctuary rosebush after the festival, I didn’t have the energy to sit down and de-seed, so everything ended up in some glorious spiced rosehip and sloe cordial.
(Just a small aside, if you ask an American what they mean by a cordial, they will describe it as fruit preserved in alcohol and a small amount of sugar to be used in drinks or poured over other fruit/ice cream. If you ask me what I mean by a cordial, I will tell you it is made using the same method as a syrup, but a cordial is made for diluting and drinking either hot or cold, whereas a syrup is thicker and can be medicinal or eaten by the spoonful. No alcohol is involved.)
The sun was shining accompanied by an icy wind, so armed with a basket, secuteurs, gloves and wellies I set off for the Friary field around the corner from our house. The original four acres owned by the Friary was half developed for housing on the understanding that the remainder was available for the public. I go there to harvest elderflowers in May/June, horsechestnut in August, late nettle seed and sloes in the winter.
The sloes were abundant. I spent a long time looking at them and was asked by a dog walker if I made sloe gin. It didn’t feel right to collect them, so I left them for the birds, thinking that if I want to make more spiced sloe cordial I can always come back in the new year.
There was only one dog rose bush I knew about and when I climbed to the top of the bank where it grows, there were no rosehips to be seen. Undismayed, I walked around the site noting the catkins of the hazel bushes, the tree still full of eating apples and the dessicated blackberries which no-one had picked. Next year I shall be taking my new herb group, Wolf’s Meadow, to learn the art of wildcrafting in season, so hopefully the blackberries won’t go to waste again.
Looking up into the hazel trees of an original hedge, I found my first rosehips. Only a few, but it was enough to make me trust I would find the amount I needed.
As I wandered through woodland, I found myself singing carols to the holly trees while I gathered some berry-bright twigs to grace my Solstice willow garland before I headed off into bramble strewn wilderness exploring parts I’d never visited before.
If you are constantly seeking a safe way through brambles, your eyes are on the ground. I saw some dead rose briars in my path and followed them to a large bush. I talked to the bush for a few minutes, noting the thickness of the briars and the unusual red hue of the bark. I couldn’t see any rosehips, but was told to go around the other side and keep looking up.
It wasn’t a large harvest, but it was sufficient. The rosehips were huge – three times the size of the tiny hips on my Sanctuary bush. There was even a dogrose flower blooming in the bitter cold – a remnant from the unseasonably warm weather we’ve been having recently.
Back home in the warm, the large hips were easy to slice in half and de-seed, but it did take a long time. I learned why it is better to delay harvesting until the hips are soft – if you squeeze the hip carefully, the entire ball of seeds and hairs can be removed through the end of the hip, leaving only the soft casing behind.
I chopped the rosehips in my grinder as I wanted them small enough to enrich the honey. The cardamoms were ground there too, but I suspect I added a whole teaspoonful rather than one quarter! I wasn’t sure how much a teaspoonful of orange peel might be so I grated a whole orange peel and nearly an inch of root ginger.
When the honey was poured on and the mixture stirred, I have to admit to licking the spoon. The taste was divine and I can’t wait until four weeks’ time when I can start making up the tonic with dog rose petal tincture and brandy.
Later yesterday evening as I sat knitting small presents for my children, I thought back on what I’d done during the day. I realised how grateful I was to be no longer working for an employer, giving me time to follow my instincts which let me trust I would find what was needed in the place I’d chosen to visit.
Tonic is one of those words which you think you know, but when you take time to consider its meaning, the totality escapes you.
When I’m confused I usually turn to Jim MacDonald’s website because he has such a wealth of information and he puts things in ways which can be easily understood.
Browsing through his terms, I found he had written, “"Tonic" is a dreadfully problematic term, because it has so many meanings and can be applied in so many different ways. Really, without using an adjective to qualify what kind of tonic it is, the noun "tonic" is close to useless. To be practical, most people intend to convey that a tonic is an herb that builds up your energy and health and is good for you.”
Jim then went on to quote from a draft copy of Matthew Wood’s Practice of Traditional Western Herbalism, saying that it offered one of the better definitions of the word “tonic”, in that it allowed for all the different manifestations this vague category may take. I looked through my copy of Wood’s book, but I couldn’t find the definition, so I was especially grateful for Jim’s note.
Matt Woods wrote, “A tonic is usually an herb or food that acts on the body in a slow, nutritive fashion to build up the substance of the body. In this sense, the term "tonic" might be considered synonymous with "trophorestorative". It can also be defined as a substance which (like an astringent) restrains loss from the body by "toning" tissues.”
He offers the following categories tonics may fall into: Bitter tonics are used to strengthen and nourish the liver and metabolism (mostly alteratives,), Sweet tonics act primarily on the immune system and adrenals (adaptogens). Oily tonics supply fixed oils and essential fatty acids to tissues to ensure hydration, cell permeability and to prevent atrophy. Mineral tonics provide essential minerals, and sour tonics are rich in bioflavinoids. Protein tonics are rich in protein.
I then turned to Kiva Rose Hardin’s blog and searched for tonics. The first articles offered two tonics, one for the heart made from Choke Cherries and another made from the wild rose.
Chokecherry Heart Tonic
1/4 C Chokecherry bark or bark/flower tincture
1/2 C Chokecherry fruit concentrate or syrup (possibly more if your concentrate isn’t strong tasting, ours is very intense and flavourful but the stuff you get from stores is often tasteless and terribly sweet and just don’t work for this)
1 C Brandy
Sugar/honey to taste (very optional, just depends on your syrup and sense of taste)
1/4 tsp of Cinnamon tincture (or a good pinch of powdered cinnamon)
1 tsp Ginger infused honey (or just add a good pinch of fresh grated ginger)
Generous splash of Merlot or Elderberry mead (optional)
Mix together in pint jar and shake well, allow to age for at least a month. This stuff is strong and somewhat mind-altering (in a relaxing kind of way), so use in small doses. It’s an excellent heart strengthener for people with signs of inflammation, high blood pressure, heart palpitations and general heat symptoms.
Choke cherries don’t grow over here and I’ve never seen them in the shops, which is disappointing because the recipe looks delicious. I’m wondering if I could substitute hawthorn instead or if my hawthorn berry brandy liqueur would be a good alternative.
Hawthorn Liqueur
To a jar full of infused hawthorn berry brandy, add 1 grated nutmeg, one cinnamon stick (crumbled), the chopped peel of one orange, 4 cloves and ½-1 cup full of sugar or honey. Seal the jar with a screw top lid, place in a warm, dark place for 8 weeks shaking regularly, then strain and pour into a sterile bottle. Seal the bottle with a screw top lid or cork and leave in a cold dark place to mature for as long as possible (at least two years).
Wild Rose Tonic
First, make a half pint of infused honey with finely chopped, de-seeded fresh wild rose hips, plus 1 tsp grated fresh ginger, 1 tsp. grated fresh orange peel and 1/4 tsp cardamom. Let infuse for one month, do not strain.
Then:
1 C spiced Wild Rose hip honey (as seen above)
3 Tbs Wild Rose petal tincture (or more, as desired for flavour)
1 C Brandy or Cognac
Mix together in a pint jar and shake well, allow to age for at least one month. This cordial/tonic is relaxing, uplifting and wonderful as a heart tonic, nervine, anti-inflammatory and bioflavanoid rich blood tonic. For a real treat, make a small cup of half Chokecherry Heart Tonic and half Wild Rose Tonic.
When I read through the Wild Rose Tonic, something strange happened. I knew I needed to make the spiced rosehip honey. I made rosehip honey nearly three years ago by liquidising freshly gathered rosehips with runny honey. It tasted delicious, but the seeds were a pain. I wanted to make the honey this year using de-seeded rosehips, but when I gathered my hips from the Sanctuary rosebush after the festival, I didn’t have the energy to sit down and de-seed, so everything ended up in some glorious spiced rosehip and sloe cordial.
(Just a small aside, if you ask an American what they mean by a cordial, they will describe it as fruit preserved in alcohol and a small amount of sugar to be used in drinks or poured over other fruit/ice cream. If you ask me what I mean by a cordial, I will tell you it is made using the same method as a syrup, but a cordial is made for diluting and drinking either hot or cold, whereas a syrup is thicker and can be medicinal or eaten by the spoonful. No alcohol is involved.)
The sun was shining accompanied by an icy wind, so armed with a basket, secuteurs, gloves and wellies I set off for the Friary field around the corner from our house. The original four acres owned by the Friary was half developed for housing on the understanding that the remainder was available for the public. I go there to harvest elderflowers in May/June, horsechestnut in August, late nettle seed and sloes in the winter.
The sloes were abundant. I spent a long time looking at them and was asked by a dog walker if I made sloe gin. It didn’t feel right to collect them, so I left them for the birds, thinking that if I want to make more spiced sloe cordial I can always come back in the new year.
There was only one dog rose bush I knew about and when I climbed to the top of the bank where it grows, there were no rosehips to be seen. Undismayed, I walked around the site noting the catkins of the hazel bushes, the tree still full of eating apples and the dessicated blackberries which no-one had picked. Next year I shall be taking my new herb group, Wolf’s Meadow, to learn the art of wildcrafting in season, so hopefully the blackberries won’t go to waste again.
Looking up into the hazel trees of an original hedge, I found my first rosehips. Only a few, but it was enough to make me trust I would find the amount I needed.
As I wandered through woodland, I found myself singing carols to the holly trees while I gathered some berry-bright twigs to grace my Solstice willow garland before I headed off into bramble strewn wilderness exploring parts I’d never visited before.
If you are constantly seeking a safe way through brambles, your eyes are on the ground. I saw some dead rose briars in my path and followed them to a large bush. I talked to the bush for a few minutes, noting the thickness of the briars and the unusual red hue of the bark. I couldn’t see any rosehips, but was told to go around the other side and keep looking up.
It wasn’t a large harvest, but it was sufficient. The rosehips were huge – three times the size of the tiny hips on my Sanctuary bush. There was even a dogrose flower blooming in the bitter cold – a remnant from the unseasonably warm weather we’ve been having recently.
Back home in the warm, the large hips were easy to slice in half and de-seed, but it did take a long time. I learned why it is better to delay harvesting until the hips are soft – if you squeeze the hip carefully, the entire ball of seeds and hairs can be removed through the end of the hip, leaving only the soft casing behind.
I chopped the rosehips in my grinder as I wanted them small enough to enrich the honey. The cardamoms were ground there too, but I suspect I added a whole teaspoonful rather than one quarter! I wasn’t sure how much a teaspoonful of orange peel might be so I grated a whole orange peel and nearly an inch of root ginger.
When the honey was poured on and the mixture stirred, I have to admit to licking the spoon. The taste was divine and I can’t wait until four weeks’ time when I can start making up the tonic with dog rose petal tincture and brandy.
Later yesterday evening as I sat knitting small presents for my children, I thought back on what I’d done during the day. I realised how grateful I was to be no longer working for an employer, giving me time to follow my instincts which let me trust I would find what was needed in the place I’d chosen to visit.
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
Spring Tonics
The equinox will be upon us in another few days. Light is increasing, stimulating new growth in so many different areas. Pink strands hang from the flowering currant in my garden, echoing the yellow forsythia flowers draped across the cherry tree. The first few dandelion flowers have appeared in strange places – one by the front door and another in the back garden. The latter found its way into my first fresh nettle soup of the year, mixing with onion, carrots and parsnips to brighten and lighten the heavier root vegetables from last year’s harvest.
Nettle and carrot soup
1 onion (peeled, diced and sweated in a tablespoon of vegetable oil)
8 carrots (scraped and chopped)
3 parsnips (peeled and chopped)
1 colander full of young nettle tops (washed)
zest and juice of 1 orange
parsley
All the ingredients fitted into my 5 pint saucepan, so I covered them with water and simmered for about 20 minutes after bringing to the boil. After whizzing in the liquidiser, it just needed some salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot with wholemeal or granary bread.
Spring is often a time to think of tonics. Matt Wood has defined a tonic as “a herb or food that acts on the body in a slow, nutritive fashion to build up the substance of the body.” Jim MacDonald has written a really useful paragraph on his website describing the many different kinds of tonic, showing how different herbs can be used to meet different bodily needs.
Tonics can be taken in many different forms, from the simple nettle tea, to the complex maceration of a tonic wine. Here are four different recipes for a tonic wine. Two came from one of Debs Cook’s collection of ancient books and the third from Juliette de Bairacli Levy’s basic herb book.
Nettle Tea
Gather two handfuls of fresh nettle tops, (preferably in Spring) and place in teapot or cafatiere. (Wash first if any soil or debris can be seen) Fill the teapot with just boiled water and leave to steep for ten minutes. Strain and drink. Honey can be used to sweeten to taste.
Aromatic Wine
2-pints red wine
1/2 Tbsp sage leaves
2 Tbsps thyme leaves
2 Tbsps hyssop leaves
2 Tbsps spearmint leaves
2 Tbsps wormwood leaves
2 Tbsps marjoram herb
Use dried herbs
Chop the herbs into a coarse powder. Moisten the powders with some of the claret. Pack into a coffee machine, using parchment paper. Pour the claret over the herbs. It should yield about 1 pint of filtered liquid.
This French formula possesses strong tonic and aromatic properties. It is useful for invalids with feeble digestions and will also help with flatulence and other digestive disturbances. Use 1 tablespoon at a time. For ulcers, use heated as a hot (external) compress (dip a cloth into the hot liquid).
Tonic Wine
1 pint Madeira
1 sprig wormwood
1 sprig rosemary
1 small bruised nutmeg
1 inch bruised ginger root
1 inch bruised cinnamon bark
12 large organic raisins
Pour off about an ounce of the wine. Place herbs in the wine. Cork the bottle tightly. Place the bottle in a dark, cool place for a week or two. Strain off the herbs.
Juliette de Bairacli’s medicated wine
Several sprigs of rosemary and wormwood
6 candied cherries
2 nutmegs
1 inch cinnamon
Candied angelica
Bruised ginger root
1 doz large raisins
Pour over wine and leave in warm place for 1-2 weeks
Sarah Head’s medicated wine
6-8 sprigs rosemary (fresh)
2 sprigs mugwort (dried, but can use fresh)
2 handfuls of organic apricots
2 grated nutmegs
1 inch grated ginger root
1 quill cinnamon bark broken into pieces
Place ingredients in a 2lb glass jar, cover with Madeira wine, seal with screw top lid, label and date. Leave in a warm, dark cupboard/airing cupboard for 2-4 weeks. Strain and bottle. Take one small shot glass full as required.
Having made all three tonic wines, I preferred the taste of my version of Juliette’s recipe.
Christopher Hedley has a wonderful nettle iron tonic which I’ve made for several different people. As with all nettle “medicines” the recipients tend to take it until they don’t like it any more or forget and stop, which usually means they don’t need it.
Christopher Hedley’s iron tonic
Soak equal amounts of fresh nettle tops and organic apricots in good red wine, with a little bitter orange peel added. Soak for two weeks, strain and store in a cool place, Dose 1 or 2 dessertspoons twice daily.
This last recipe made me start to think about how to develop a tonic for a specific person. Karen was involved in a serious car accident at the beginning of the year. Thankfully she is now on the mend and I was wondering what would be helpful for her once she comes out of hospital. I put a query out on Henriette’s herblist, describing what had happened and said I was thinking of adding plantain to Chris Hedley’s tonic.
Henriette has suggested adding something for the liver to counteract all the medication she’s been on (dandelion and burdock should be available) and something for the digestive system to help it start working again after all the opiate painkillers she’s taken. She suggested prunes, figs, mallow or plantain seeds. I inadvertently dug up a marshmallow root recently, so it can be added to the mixture along with some dried prunes and figs. These can be eaten in very small doses once they have macerated for a couple of weeks or whizzed up with the infused Madeira.
Henrietta also suggested rose petals and rescue remedy. I still have some dried dogrose and apothecary’s rose petals from last summer, so I can add those to the mix. Hopefully we should be able to gather everything else during the next workshop on March 28th then Karen’s friend, Julie, can take it home with her to give Karen when it’s ready.
Nettle and carrot soup
1 onion (peeled, diced and sweated in a tablespoon of vegetable oil)
8 carrots (scraped and chopped)
3 parsnips (peeled and chopped)
1 colander full of young nettle tops (washed)
zest and juice of 1 orange
parsley
All the ingredients fitted into my 5 pint saucepan, so I covered them with water and simmered for about 20 minutes after bringing to the boil. After whizzing in the liquidiser, it just needed some salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot with wholemeal or granary bread.
Spring is often a time to think of tonics. Matt Wood has defined a tonic as “a herb or food that acts on the body in a slow, nutritive fashion to build up the substance of the body.” Jim MacDonald has written a really useful paragraph on his website describing the many different kinds of tonic, showing how different herbs can be used to meet different bodily needs.
Tonics can be taken in many different forms, from the simple nettle tea, to the complex maceration of a tonic wine. Here are four different recipes for a tonic wine. Two came from one of Debs Cook’s collection of ancient books and the third from Juliette de Bairacli Levy’s basic herb book.
Nettle Tea
Gather two handfuls of fresh nettle tops, (preferably in Spring) and place in teapot or cafatiere. (Wash first if any soil or debris can be seen) Fill the teapot with just boiled water and leave to steep for ten minutes. Strain and drink. Honey can be used to sweeten to taste.
Aromatic Wine
2-pints red wine
1/2 Tbsp sage leaves
2 Tbsps thyme leaves
2 Tbsps hyssop leaves
2 Tbsps spearmint leaves
2 Tbsps wormwood leaves
2 Tbsps marjoram herb
Use dried herbs
Chop the herbs into a coarse powder. Moisten the powders with some of the claret. Pack into a coffee machine, using parchment paper. Pour the claret over the herbs. It should yield about 1 pint of filtered liquid.
This French formula possesses strong tonic and aromatic properties. It is useful for invalids with feeble digestions and will also help with flatulence and other digestive disturbances. Use 1 tablespoon at a time. For ulcers, use heated as a hot (external) compress (dip a cloth into the hot liquid).
Tonic Wine
1 pint Madeira
1 sprig wormwood
1 sprig rosemary
1 small bruised nutmeg
1 inch bruised ginger root
1 inch bruised cinnamon bark
12 large organic raisins
Pour off about an ounce of the wine. Place herbs in the wine. Cork the bottle tightly. Place the bottle in a dark, cool place for a week or two. Strain off the herbs.
Juliette de Bairacli’s medicated wine
Several sprigs of rosemary and wormwood
6 candied cherries
2 nutmegs
1 inch cinnamon
Candied angelica
Bruised ginger root
1 doz large raisins
Pour over wine and leave in warm place for 1-2 weeks
Sarah Head’s medicated wine
6-8 sprigs rosemary (fresh)
2 sprigs mugwort (dried, but can use fresh)
2 handfuls of organic apricots
2 grated nutmegs
1 inch grated ginger root
1 quill cinnamon bark broken into pieces
Place ingredients in a 2lb glass jar, cover with Madeira wine, seal with screw top lid, label and date. Leave in a warm, dark cupboard/airing cupboard for 2-4 weeks. Strain and bottle. Take one small shot glass full as required.
Having made all three tonic wines, I preferred the taste of my version of Juliette’s recipe.
Christopher Hedley has a wonderful nettle iron tonic which I’ve made for several different people. As with all nettle “medicines” the recipients tend to take it until they don’t like it any more or forget and stop, which usually means they don’t need it.
Christopher Hedley’s iron tonic
Soak equal amounts of fresh nettle tops and organic apricots in good red wine, with a little bitter orange peel added. Soak for two weeks, strain and store in a cool place, Dose 1 or 2 dessertspoons twice daily.
This last recipe made me start to think about how to develop a tonic for a specific person. Karen was involved in a serious car accident at the beginning of the year. Thankfully she is now on the mend and I was wondering what would be helpful for her once she comes out of hospital. I put a query out on Henriette’s herblist, describing what had happened and said I was thinking of adding plantain to Chris Hedley’s tonic.
Henriette has suggested adding something for the liver to counteract all the medication she’s been on (dandelion and burdock should be available) and something for the digestive system to help it start working again after all the opiate painkillers she’s taken. She suggested prunes, figs, mallow or plantain seeds. I inadvertently dug up a marshmallow root recently, so it can be added to the mixture along with some dried prunes and figs. These can be eaten in very small doses once they have macerated for a couple of weeks or whizzed up with the infused Madeira.
Henrietta also suggested rose petals and rescue remedy. I still have some dried dogrose and apothecary’s rose petals from last summer, so I can add those to the mix. Hopefully we should be able to gather everything else during the next workshop on March 28th then Karen’s friend, Julie, can take it home with her to give Karen when it’s ready.
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