How I Got Hooked on Weeds...

Another case of where someone else says it better... I'm discovering the benefits of edible weeds. Good thing, because my yard and gardens are full of them! (I have made a few posts about them over the last few years but you'd need to enter "weeds" in the search box on the right column to locate them.)

How I Got Hooked on Weeds—and Why You Should, Too

When I moved to a small organic farm in 2004, I quickly got hooked on weeds (note plural). First, there would be salads of chickweed—a grassy-tasting plant that popped up just after the ground thawed in spring. Next, from the marshy banks of a creek, tender, peppery watercress would sprout. Soon after, dandelion greens would proliferate, adding a bitter note to those spring weed salads. And then, along an old wood road up the forested mountainside, would come a flush of stinging nettle—we'd harvest the leaves with gloves, boil their sting away, and add them to pastas and pizzas. Finally, by high summer, my favorite weeds of all would emerge from plowed fields: a high-rising, spinach-related green called lamb's quarters, and a low-slung, creeping plant called purslane, with its succulent, lemony leaves.

We never found much of a market for these delicacies (save for the watercress, which chefs loved). But they became staples of the farmhouse kitchen, supplements to the cultivated greens that went mainly to the farmers market and to our CSA shareholders. Now that I spend more of my time off the farm and in a city, one of the things I miss most is easy access to these flavorful wild foods.

Turns out, the void I'm feeling may be more than aesthetic. According to an op-ed by Jo Robinson in the Sunday New York Times, wild edible plants tend to be loaded with phytonutrients, "the compounds with the potential to reduce the risk of four of our modern scourges: cancer, cardiovascular disease, diabetes and dementia."

And most cultivated crops—even celebrated healthy foods like spinach and blueberries—are pale copies of their wild progenitors in phytochemical terms, Robinson shows, adding some eye-popping infographics for emphasis. She is not talking about the small but significant decline in nutrient density since the industrialization of agriculture half a century ago, but rather a steep drop in phytonutrients that began when we "stopped foraging for wild plants some 10,000 years ago and became farmers." Robinson writes:

    Each fruit and vegetable in our stores has a unique history of nutrient loss, I've discovered, but there are two common themes. Throughout the ages, our farming ancestors have chosen the least bitter plants to grow in their gardens. It is now known that many of the most beneficial phytonutrients have a bitter, sour or astringent taste. Second, early farmers favored plants that were relatively low in fiber and high in sugar, starch and oil. These energy-dense plants were pleasurable to eat and provided the calories needed to fuel a strenuous lifestyle. The more palatable our fruits and vegetables became, however, the less advantageous they were for our health.
 
I would push back against the inverse relationship Robinson posits between palatability and nutrition. I imagine that we've lost a lot of flavor in the ages-old quest to breed for sweetness—and in the last 100 years or so, we've definitely lost still more by breeding for portability and shelf life. I would argue that flavor has declined along with nutrient density. 

Few people would choose modern supermarket tomatoes bred to last for weeks post-harvest over old varieties selected to taste good when eaten quickly. And weeds play a role in some of the globe's most celebrated cuisines. I wouldn't want to imagine Mexico's street food without tlacoyos con quelites (lamb's quarters) or Italy without ravioli d'ortica (stinging nettles). There's no puritanical trade-off here. (Patience Gray's classic Honey from a Weed demonstrates how vital weeds remain in southern European cooking, and Rebecca Katz and Mat Edelson's recent The Longevity Kitchen offers plenty of good recipes for them).

That caveat aside, what do we do with Robinson's message about the loss of phytonutrients? Obviously, we can't all suddenly become hunter-gatherers, stalking city parks for hidden bounty (though a fellow who calls himself "Wildman" will take you on a foraging tour of Manhattan's Central Park). Nor can we all live on small organic farms surrounded by woodlands.

But what we can do is start seeking out varieties of fruits and vegetables that haven't been bred to be insipidly sweet or high-yielding. Robinson suggests arugula as an example—it was a Mediterranean weed until very recently. Arugula is "very similar to its wild ancestor," she notes, and "rich in cancer-fighting compounds called glucosinolates and higher in antioxidant activity than many green lettuces." Robinson also points to herbs, which she calls "wild plants incognito." That is, they much more closely resemble their wild antecedents than do, say, modern apples or tomatoes or corn. She adds: "We've long valued them for their intense flavors and aroma, which is why they've not been given a flavor makeover. Because we've left them well enough alone, their phytonutrient content has remained intact." Robinson's paean to herbs reminded me of my love for parsley, and how I've come to shower it on every meal, and even give it the starring role in a salad.

But here's the thing about arugula and fresh herbs: They're fantastic when you can get them recently picked, but dull when you find them in in little plastic bags shipped cross-country. And if Robinson is right that "many of the most beneficial phytonutrients have a bitter, sour or astringent taste," I wonder if phytonutrient content doesn't degrade along with flavor on those long trips.

That got me to thinking that one of the unsung benefits of the explosion of farmers markets and CSAs over the past 20 years is that it's giving more and more people access to vegetables bred for things besides just sweetness, shelf life, and portability. We might not sell much in the way of lamb's quarters at Maverick Farms (the North Carolina farm I'm involved with), but we can never grow enough of our famously spicy arugula to satisfy demand. And like many farms that sell to neighboring communities, we favor tomato varieties that balance sweetness with acidity—and may well deliver an extra jolt of phytonutrients because of it.

And small farms can deliver actual weeds, too. Just last weekend, at the Saturday farmstand of Austin's wonderful Boggy Creek Farm, I found nestled in the back a display featuring just-picked bunches of lamb's quarters and purslane. So I finally got my fix of weeds right here in the city—ever since, I've been making salads combining those two wild edibles with some parsley I also picked up at Boggy.

Making Weed "Vitamins"

To continue from the "Gotta be a pony in here somewhere"...  I'm starting to make some vitamin tinctures from the weeds in my garden.

Above are the things I picked early this morning (June 16th, which is just 1 day past the full moon) to make some vitamin tinctures. Around the full moon is said to be the best time to harvest herbs for medicinal use.  I don't know if that also applies to culinary use, but it might. That doesn't stop me from cutting fresh culinary herbs from the garden when I need them for a dish I'm preparing, but it might affect those same herbs when I want to dry some for winter.

The large stainless steel strainer basket is full of red raspberry leaves that I will dry for raspberry leaf tea. Raspberry leaf tea is not a tasty tea like mint tea; it's uses are more medicinal and you can do an internet search about them. Raspberry leaf tea was recommended by Dr. Abravanel as the morning beverage for the Thyroid Food Protocol which I followed many years ago. (Dr. Abravanel's Body Type Diet and Lifetime Nutrition Plan)

Finished, Dried Raspberry Leaf

The small strainer basket in the top photo above has red clover, and the plastic bucket behind it has dandelion leaves. Many of the recipes for red clover used medicinally call for just the blossoms, but as I'm steeping mine for a vitamin tincture, I'll use some of the top (softer) stems and leaves as well as the blossoms. Red Clover contains calcium, iron, magnesium, manganese, phosphorus, potassium, selenium, and zinc as well as vitamins B3, C and E. 

Medicinally, red clover has been called the "woman's herb" as it contains phytoestrogens, similar to estrogen, and is widely used during menopause. "Although the phytoestrogen effects of soy and flaxseed have been more widely studied, red clover may actually be a more effective treatment for relief of menopausal symptoms. It is an active ingredient in Promensil, an over-the-counter supplement used to help treat hot flashes." (Source) Red Clover has many herbal uses, but as I am not an Herbalist, I shan't go into that here.

Dandelion is rich in calcium, iron, magnesium, manganese, phosphorus, potassium, copper and zinc.  It also contains vitamins K, B1 (thiamine), B2 (riboflavin), B3 (niacin) and C along with beta-carotene, which our bodies turn into vitamin A. I haven't been able to find a breakdown of nutritional content of roots, and I'm not up to digging roots right now. Instead I'll make a vitamin tincture from the leaves now, store it, and later mix it with a vitamin tincture made from the roots to get the whole vitamin/mineral chorus in dandelions. Below are the vitamin and mineral contents in 1 cup of chopped raw dandelion greens.

http://nutritiondata.self.com/facts/vegetables-and-vegetable-products/2441/2

http://nutritiondata.self.com/facts/vegetables-and-vegetable-products/2441/2

To make a tincture requires only a base liquid, and the herbs or whatever you want to incorporate. Generally a food-grade alcohol like vodka, brandy, rum or Everclear is the liquid of choice, but I'm going to use raw apple cider vinegar for some added nutritional properties.  

Note: Everclear generally needs water added because some nutritional properties of herbs are only water soluble, and Everclear has very little water; it is almost all food-grade alcohol, 190 proof, or 95% alcohol.

Dandelion leaves in vinegar

To make the tincture: clean and rinse the leaves and stalks thoroughly as soon as possible after harvesting. (Vitamin loss starts immediately from any harvested fruit, vegetable or herb.)

Chopped red clover

Drain and chop the plant material, enough to nearly fill a glass jar with a tight lid. Fully cover the leaves and stems with either the alcoholic beverage, or my choice: apple cider vinegar. (You could also use vegetable glycerin. Glycerin might be a good choice if making a tincture to give children since it has a sweet taste.) Tighten the lid securely (I'm using the plastic Ball storage lids because the acid content of the vinegar will eat through regular canning lids in a short time.) Store the jar(s) in a cool, dark place for at least 2 weeks although 6 weeks is better, shaking often. Then strain the infusion into clean jars, re-label and store... again in a cool, dark place.

If you think about it, flavored vinegars such as tarragon vinegar, or Provençal vinegar are nothing more than tinctures with a vinegar base, and so easy to make at home with fresh herbs! Since I take a spoonful or two of raw apple cider vinegar (ACV) every day anyway, it is easy instead to use ACV infused with extra vitamins and minerals as a healthy tonic.

Diminish garden weeds naturally

Here's a great garden tip:

If you plant rye (as a mulch) between the garden rows and keep it mowed, the allelochemicals that leach from rye residue prevent weed germination but do not harm transplanted tomatoes, broccoli, or many other vegetables.

Allelopathy refers to a plant’s ability to chemically inhibit the growth of other plants. A good example is the black walnut which prohibits many things from growing under or around it.

Rye is one of the most useful allelopathic cover crops because it is winter-hardy and can be grown almost anywhere. Rye residue contains generous amounts of allelopathic chemicals.

When left undisturbed on the soil surface, these chemicals leach out and prevent germination of small-seeded weeds. Weed suppression is effective for about 30 to 60 days. But if the rye is tilled into the soil, the effect is lost.

Yellow Nutsedge

In my post, Sin(s) of Omission I mentioned the weeds I overlooked. Well, it turns out those weeds are Yellow Nutsedge (Cyperus esculentus), considered one of the world's worst weeds.

A Wisconsin field was reported to have up to 35 million yellow nutsedge tubers per acre! The tiny tubers, noted by the small circles on the photo above, are edible when mature (they look like a small nut), and grown in some regions where the starchy tubers are used to make a beverage. The tubers are the primary means of propagation and can live in the soil usually 3 years but up to 10 years. They develop skinny root-like rhizomes 8-24 inches long.

The problems with this weed are several. For one, they compete with crops for water and nutrients. Another problem is they are allelopathic, meaning they produce compounds in the soil that are toxic to some crops. And a third, of course, is that they are invasive.

I think I'll pass on harvesting the tubers for a beverage, and do my best on the eradication process!