by Nan Chase
Let wine sit another few weeks for further clarification.
Recipe adapted from Folk Wines, Cordials, & Brandies by M. A. Jagendorf (1963, The Vanguard Press, Inc.).
Wild Mint Tea
1 quart water
1 cup mint leaves and blossoms
Honey or sugar (optional)
Boil the water and add the mint leaves and blossoms. Let set for 20 minutes. Add honey or sugar to taste, if desired. Serve.
Reprinted from A Taste of Heritage: Crow Indian Recipes and Herbal Medicines by Alma Hogan Snell by permission of the University of Nebraska Press. ©2006 by Alma Hogan Snell.
Crystal clear and with just a hint of mint flavor, homemade mint wine makes a delightful summer beverage and an unusual gift. Photo by Nan K. Chase.
Landscape highlights
Blankets moist, shady ground
Lacy flowers attract insects
Edible highlights
Infused for tea, syrup, vinegar
Dried for winter use
Produces delicate wine
Delightful in salads, chutney, and cooked vegetables or meat
Where it grows best
In moist soil
In full or partial shade, full sun only with sufficient moisture
How to grow it
With roots contained in a below-ground box or pot, or behind concrete or metal barriers underground to prevent unwanted spreading
In poor soil to discourage spread; rich soil promotes “running”
Away from tree trunks and other plants. Mint doesn’t mix well with other plants, as mint leaves form a mat
Nasturtium
We love the nasturtium for its versatility in the edible landscape. Nasturtium is nearly foolproof to grow, yet as a culinary herb it remains underutilized.
All visible parts of the plant are edible—flowers, leaves, even seeds—and its foliage and flowers flow through the garden like a river of color.
In looks, the nasturtium is part vine, part ground cover. There are some fifty varieties, so shop for characteristics you like.
Generally the leaves are a few inches across, round and light green with white rays, and with a smooth, velvety feel: like small water-lily pads. The leaves of the climbing varieties (as opposed to dwarf varieties) have a twining habit that helps them grab onto support structures.
The flowers are bold and bright, with a long, graceful, funnel-shaped spur at the bottom: orange, yellow, or red, in countless combinations.
Nasturtiums play several useful roles, providing fast screening of unsightly features, organic pest protection, garden infill after spring bulbs fade, and cascading texture and color in window boxes and other containers.
Easily grown from seed, the nasturtium—or Tropaeolum—thrives in most climates. In warm zones it survives year-round, but in cold-weather regions it must be sown each spring. Germination of the easy-to-handle seeds takes just seven to ten days, making it a perfect child’s garden project.
The nasturtium is not fussy about soil, but it prefers a well-drained location with a sandy component rather than too much leaf mold. While it can grow in both shade and sun, you’ll get masses of flowers in a sunny location, but mostly foliage in shady or wet ground.
Aphids are drawn to nasturtiums, nestling under the leaves. That makes them an important companion plant for roses, as nasturtiums draw the aphids away. They can also repel some kinds of flies and beetles. “Nasturtium spray” for bug control is made like tea from equal parts nasturtium leaves and water, boiled fifteen minutes, cooled, and strained.
The flavor of nasturtium leaves is peppery; it is known also as Indian cress. A little bit goes a long way, so the leaves are chopped or torn and sprinkled into salads; the flowers go into salads, too. Nasturtium leaves reportedly contain ten times the vitamin C of lettuce.
The leaves can also be used as wrappers for making little appetizer rolls of herbed cream cheese or other spreads. Minced nasturtium leaves add pep to egg dishes.
Creative cooks find no end of uses for this plant: nasturtium mayonnaise, nasturtium vinegar, and pepper made from the dried and ground seeds. The blossoms can be stuffed with soft spreads and served as dainty hors d’oeuvres, or they make an elegant garnish on cakes.
The most sophisticated culinary use of nasturtiums may be as “faux capers” or “poor man’s capers.” For this simple concoction the unripe seed pods are pickled in spiced vinegar. They, too, contain appreciable levels of vitamin C.
The nasturtium’s color spectrum ranges from off-white through shades of yellow and orange to pink and red—great contrast to a weather-beaten fence or building. Photo by Lonnie Webster.
Photo by Nan K. Chase.
Pickled Nasturtium Seeds
Recipes for pickled nasturtium seeds vary widely, so here’s a version that combines elements from several sources. It’s difficult to specify quantities of ingredients, as the amount of seeds will differ.
Pick the seedpods on a dry day before they ripen—still green and plump—leaving a bit of stem attached. Soak pods for three days in saltwater (2 to 4 tablespoons salt to a quart), changing the water daily; then rinse and dry. Pack pods loosely into a small jar and measure enough white wine vinegar, cider vinegar, or lavender vinegar to cover, but put the vinegar into a small saucepan instead of the jar.
Make spiced vinegar by adding small quantities of spices and seasonings to the pan: bay leaves, thyme, tarragon, grated horseradish, shallots, ground mace, grated nutmeg, or similar. For each jar, add 2 teaspoons sugar and half a dozen black or white peppercorns.
Bring the vinegar and spice mixture to a boil; then pour over nasturtium pods in the jar. Let cool. Cover and refrigerate for at least three days before using.
Pickled seedpods will keep in the refrigerator six months.
As they grow thicker, nasturtium leaves weave a carpet that can transform an unattractive corner of the garden. Photo by Robin Siktberg of the Herb Society of America.
Landscape highlights
Lush ground cover, attractive vine
Profuse bright flowers in frost-free months
Nasturtium “tea” as insect repellent
Edible highlights
Leaves and flowers for salads
Leaves added to eggs, mayonnaise, vinegar
Seed pods pickled as “poor man’s capers”
Where it grows best
In full sun for maximum flower production, in shade for mostly leaf growth
In well-drained soil for flowers, in damp ground for foliage
In fertile soil with compost added to break up clumps
How to grow it
As climbing vines to twelve feet or lush groundcover, depending on variety
As an annual from seed in cool or cold climates, as a perennial in frost-free zones
As a companion to roses and potted citrus, since nasturtium attracts aphids to itself and provides organic pest control
Rosemary, Sage, Thyme
Ah, the strange perfume of rosemary: dense, penetrating, and unforgettable. And so Rosmarinus officinalis, called “dew of the sea” for its native habitat along Mediterranean cliffs, is the herb of memory.
Sage, too, has a peculiar aroma, and silvery blue-grey leaves in contrast to rosemary’s dark, glossy, needle-like foliage.
Thyme, small and with a less “pushy” odor than the others, rounds out a trio of important herbs in the edible landscape. Oregano and marjoram could be included, for all are members of the mint family, distinguished by their square stems and their culinary and medicinal roles in human society.
All these herbs add a pleasing, billowy texture to a garden’s lower levels, and in many parts of the United States they can grow year round as long as they have enough drainage to keep their feet dry in cold weather. I have harvested thyme and sage in winter, digging through snow to snip off the still-green leaves for cooking.
Rosemary is the tallest, growing from about one foot high to six feet in some cases, but it is also the mo
st tender. Whereas sage and thyme can both survive temperatures as low as -20 degrees F, rosemary can’t usually handle anything below 15 degrees F.
Thus, depending on where you live, rosemary might be grown as a perennial hedge or permanent rock garden specimen—California’s ideal climate nurtures countless beautiful examples—or as a seasonal plant to be potted up and brought indoors for the winter.
Rosemary has light violet-blue flowers that attract bees and other insects; honey from rosemary-fueled bees has a pleasant flavor. A tea made from the leaf tips can relieve headache. In cooking, rosemary accompanies lamb and other meats and seasons stews and sauces.
Rosemary likes an alkaline soil. As with the other woody herbs mentioned here, it should be pruned sparingly—just enough to remove the oldest branches when they lose vigor, and in no cases more than a third of the plant at once.
Sage grows to a middle height between rosemary and thyme, and brings a feeling of lightness into corners of the garden where darker plants threaten to overwhelm the scenery. The culinary sage of the edible landscape, Salvia officinalis, has leaves described as “white, woolly, and wrinkled,” and pretty purple flowers, but there are lots of other varieties.
Superb in stews and stuffing or roasted with meats, sage leaves are best harvested before the flower spikes appear. The name Salvia comes from the root word “I save,” and the late folklore historian and wine expert M. A. Jagendorf wrote that sage “prolonged life, brightened the spirits, eased sorrow, kept toads away, averted chills, and enabled girls to see their future husbands.”
Thyme grows low in the garden and works well as a groundcover on patios and outdoor stairways, where it can run between paving stones. The leaves are tiny, and the plant usually grows less than a foot tall. “Happiness, health, and bravery” are the qualities long ascribed to thyme; in ancient Greece the leaves were spread over the floors of temples and homes, and it was burned as incense.
Thyme seasons soups and sauces—no use making pizza without it—and adds a gentle savor to just about anything else too.
Unobtrusive rosemary softens hard edges around the landscape. The attractive blue-grey foliage can reach as high as six feet. Photo by Jamie Goodman.
Sage can be a show-off in the edible landscape, massing in low-growing clumps. This variegated sage, with hints of purple, makes a striking accent. Photo by Robin Siktberg of the Herb Society of America.
Nan’s Fresh Herb Popovers
The secret of great popovers is to put the greased muffin tin in the oven while it preheats. A perfect crust forms when batter hits the hot oil.
1 cup milk
4 eggs (or 5 if muffin tin is large)
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus oil for muffin tin
1 cup flour
1/4 cup or more of finely chopped spring herbs: any combination of thyme, rosemary, sage, oregano, fennel greens, tarragon, parsley, chives, or others
2 to 4 tablespoons chopped onions (optional)
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F with greased muffin tin inside. Combine milk, eggs, salt, and oil. Add flour and whisk until smooth. Add herbs and onions if desired, and whisk to combine.
Fill muffin tin cups 1/2 to 2/3 full, and then bake in the center of the oven 30 to 40 minutes, or until popovers are golden brown and fragrant. Do not open the oven door while baking. Serve immediately.
Low to the ground, thyme still adds a lot of color and texture when in full bloom. The leaves can be used almost as liberally as salt. Photo by Robin Siktberg of the Herb Society of America.
Landscape highlights
Spring and summer blossoms
Year-round ground covers in low-frost environments
Thrive in thin soil
Foliage adds texture in flower beds
Edible highlights
Fresh or dried in stews, soups, sauces, dressings, and breads
Infused for vinegars
Where they grow best
Outdoors in frost-free zones for rosemary, light to moderate frost environments for others
In containers for year-round enjoyment in cold climates, outdoors with sufficient snow cover for insulation
In well-drained thin or gritty soil
In full sun
In rock gardens, on terraces, in raised beds with good drainage
How to grow them
As companions to taller, more colorful plants
Near the kitchen, for convenient culinary use
Hot-Country Choices
Fruiting plants that grow in hot climates have exotic flowers, wonderful smells, and unusual fruits. It’s as though the orchard trees of North America’s temperate zones are all business, while the hot country plants have time to play.
The five plants described in this section (counting the citrus fruits as one) can survive close to desert conditions, but they do require considerable water in order to thrive and produce fruit. The kumquat, by contrast, prefers a fairly moist tropical climate but can grow well in any hot weather if watered sufficiently.
That doesn’t mean these plants will only grow in the hottest places, for in many cooler parts of North America they do well in pots that can be brought indoors for protection; plants like the fig and even the pomegranate can grow in cooler climates if they are planted against a sunny wall or insulated for winter, although they might not bloom or bear reliably.
Certainly in well-managed hothouses or conservatories that can nearly replicate these plants’ preferred growing conditions, they will attain considerable size and become fruitful.
I think it worthwhile trying to grow these plants in fairly cool regions even if it costs some effort in providing microclimates they can tolerate or in keeping them healthy in containers.
Why? These fruits are important, both nutritionally and for their marvelous flavors and textures. Some of them only ripen on the tree or vine, and thus are almost never shipped long distances to grocery stores; the only way to enjoy them fresh—at their peak of flavor and potency—is to grow them yourself. Many American families of Mediterranean or Middle Eastern heritage have discovered this already, as when they insist on curing their own home-grown olives, for example.
Thus, using these plants in the edible landscape can add a sense of adventure or whimsy, and can give you a reputation as a gourmet cook who always has some tasty and hard-to-get treasure on hand. A dish made with fresh organic Meyer lemons is unforgettable, as is one with fresh figs or a kumquat from the backyard.
Growing any of these hot country choices for the edible landscape is a form of time travel.
The fig and the olive both figure prominently in ancient history, and their culture is a way of life across the Mediterranean region; today both plants are grown commercially in parts of the United States as well.
The juicy pomegranate has a Spanish city named for it—Granada—on a high, dry plateau, and the local symbol there is the image of a ripening pomegranate fruit.
Lemons, limes, oranges, and other citrus fruits have spilled from their Old World territory to become dietary and economic mainstays of several American states. Kumquat will be a new selection for some gardeners.
We love these foods, these handsome and distinctive plants. Now let’s try growing them.
Photo by Michelle Levy Brocco, www.mishmishcards.com.
Photo © iStockPhoto/DylanDesigns.
Fig
Fig leaves clothed Adam and Eve in the Garden.
The Greek philosopher Plato was a “friend of the fig,” a philosykos. Captain Bligh sailed the South Seas with fig trees to plant, and the Spanish fathers cultivated them at their California missions.
Figs are one of mankind’s favorite fruits, and yet few of us actually know the joys of eating one fresh. The reason: figs are unusual in ripening only on the tree, and when they’re fully ripe they are too easily damaged to ship. Perfect for the edible landscape.
Well, perfect if you can provide the necessary warmth. Figs require a long period of warm
weather for fruiting, and they can’t handle the kind of hard freeze that many other fruits withstand.
The coldest climate where figs can grow and bear outdoors is considered to be that of central Virginia. Even there, fig trees are planted against sheltered, sunny walls and may be lowered to the ground and covered, or heavily wrapped, for winter insulation; colder than that, and figs must grow in containers and be over-wintered indoors.
Figs’ main growing requirements are excellent drainage and soil that’s “not too rich.” When given excess nitrogen, fig trees—or bushes—produce rampant vegetation and not much fruit. Favored soil conditions tend toward the gritty or chalky—anything loose and able to shed moisture quickly.
Likewise, unrestricted root growth can make fig trees a pest. The tree grows at least as wide as tall, and roots may extend far beyond that. Edible landscape gardeners, then, must practice root pruning or create a root barrier underground about five feet from the trunk, if a fig tree is to be grown near a structure.
