The Illustrated Book of Edible Plants

By Jack Staub

Histories, medicinal uses, and recipe ideas for food plants from A to Z—illustrated with beautiful watercolor art.
 
Focusing on the most growable vegetables, herbs, and fruits for the greatest number of people, Jack Staub tells the stories of their origins and apprises the home gardener on ways to use them, from the table to remedies and potions.
 
Up-to-the-minute cultivation and culinary advice are delivered with accessibility and wit, as well as tidbits of folkore and myth that surround these plants, from the author of 75 Exciting Vegetables for Your Garden, 75 Remarkable Fruits for Your Garden, and 75 Exceptional Herbs for Your Garden.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Feb 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781423646754

Jack Staub

Jack Staub is one of the country's leading experts on fruit and vegetable gardening. He frequently lectures on the subject, and his articles have appeared in numerous magazines and print publications, including Country Living, Fine Gardening, and The New York Times. He is also a featured guest on NPR. You can learn more about Jack and Hortulus Farms at http://hortulusfarmdiary.blogspot.com.

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Preface

Photo of goji and mulberry.

Growing much of what we eat has been one of the greatest joys of living at Hortulus Farm, and my passion for searching out unusual and interesting varieties of our common food plants remains unabated; so it is with great pleasure that I offer up to you eighty-five of the most winning edible plants on the planet.

The world truly is our horticultural oyster, with exciting new cultivars and even entirely unfamiliar species, like the goji and the honeyberry, coming to us from every corner of the globe. As well, in this tome, I urge you towards the cultivation of some of our lesser known edible plants, like anise, chervil, the persimmon, and the lingonberry, any of which will not only provide you with new culinary avenues to explore but plenty of visual delight in your garden. And then there are the fascinating histories, antique employments, myths and lore, however occasionally misguided, surrounding even our most familiar fruits, herbs, and vegetables.

Have I personally grown every plant, shrub, and tree in this book? No, and for fairly obvious cultural and climatic reasons, most particularly some of the finicky fruit trees that require a daunting regime of spraying, pruning, and fruit-thinning. That said, I have been vigilant in both research and visitation of neighboring farmers and orchardists, and the varietal information and cultural advice I impart to you here you may rely on.

My sincere hope is that you will find these plant portraits as enjoyable to browse as they are informative and that you will be inspired to culture some of these wonderful edible plants in your own garden. And if you’re ever in our neighborhood, please do come see what we’re growing on the farm!

Jack Staub Hortulus Farm www.hortulusfarm.com

Anise

Pimpinella anisum

"For the dropsie, fill an old cock with Polipody and Aniseeds

and seethe him well, and drink the broth."

—William Langham, The Garden of Health, 1633

Anise, also known as anise seed, pimpinel, and sweet cumin, is a member of the parsley family and, like many umbellifers , is thought to be anciently native to Egypt, Greece, and parts of the southern Mediterranean. According to excavated texts, anise has been cultivated in Egypt since at least 2000 B.C., the flavorful seeds having been employed as a diuretic, a digestive aid, and to relieve toothache. Anise is mentioned in the seventeenth-century-B.C. works of Hammurabi, the sixth king of Babylon and author of the Code of Hammurabi, one of the first legal treatises in recorded history, and it is also known that Charlemagne adored this fragrant herb and planted it extensively in his gardens at Aquisgrana between A.D. 800 and 814. Anise was known to British herbalists by the fourteenth century A.D. and, according to Mrs. Grieve, was being cultivated in Great Britain by the mid-sixteenth century, when it was also introduced into South America by the Spanish conquistadors. The Pimpinella in anise’s botanical name derives from the Latin dipinella, or twice pinnate, in reference to its leaf form, and because of its pungent, licorice sweetness, anise saw broad medicinal application across all cultures it touched, but particularly for respiratory and digestive ailments.

Hippocrates, father of modern medicine, recommended anise for respiratory issues in the fourth century B.C., and the Greek botanist Dioscorides wrote in the first century A.D. that anise warms, dries, and dissolves everything from an aching stomach and a sluggish digestion to excessive winde and a stinking breath. John Gerard recommended it in his Herball of 1636 for the yeoxing or hicket [hiccup] as well as strengthening the coitus, and in 1763 Christopher Sauer maintained that it removes chill from the chest and staves off coughing fits. The breath-sweetening employment was also lauded by the British apothecary William Turner, who reported in 1551 that anyse maketh the breth sweter and swageth payne.

Interestingly, unlike many early herbal claims, most of those attached to anise are surprisingly smack on the money. We know now that anise seeds contain healthy doses of vitamin B, calcium, iron, magnesium, and potassium, as well as athenols, which aid in digestion, calm intestinal spasms, and reduce gas. A tisane made of anise has also proven effective in calming both coughs and chronic asthma, and, of course, anise is the main flavoring ingredient in those potent nectars anisette, pastis, and absinthe, the latter of which will pretty much calm anything into submission.

Anise is also a very pretty plant, with bright green coriander-like foliage and lovely, diminutive white-and-yellow flowers held in feathery umbels, the whole of it growing to about 18 inches.

Photo of anise.

Anise

Anise seeds are actually the fruit of the anise plant; when dried, they are transformed into those familiar gray/brown, longitudinally ribbed seeds habitually positioned as a digestif by the cash register in your favorite Indian restaurant. Anise is an annual herb and needs a longish, hot, dry season to seed successfully, so, in cooler climes, it is advisable to start seeds in pots indoors in March and set them out when the soil is well warmed up. Otherwise, sow seed in situ in dry, light soil and a sunny spot early in April, thinning the plants to about a foot apart. When threshed out, anise seeds are easily dried in trays and jarred for future use. In ancient Rome, wedding celebrations customarily ended with an anise-scented Mustacae cake to aid digestion (and, one assumes, strengthen the coitus), so why not create your own festivity by mixing a handful of anise seeds into your favorite pound cake recipe?

Apple

Malus domestica

The apple tree was so anciently regarded that in British lore,

Avalon, where King Arthur was taken to die, translates to

Isle of Apples, and the Greek Elysium, where the worthy were

destined to spend their afterlives, to Apple Land.

As we all know from that familiar Garden of Eden scenario, the apple is many millennia old, apple seeds having been found in Stone Age settlements in Switzerland dating to 8000 B.C. The tart wild crab apple (Pyrus malus), native to the Caucasus and Turkey, is thought to be the ancient ancestor of the lot, and the first trees to produce our familiar sweet apple are believed to have grown near the modern city of Almaty, Kazakhstan. The cultivated apple, Malus domestica, has most probably been under global culture since the dawn of nearly any civilization you can name, Alexander the Great having been known to have imported dwarf apple types into Greece from Asia Minor in 300 B.C.

Photo of Apple ‘Ashmead's Kernel’.

Apple ‘ Ashmead’s Kernel’

Along with their cousin the pear, apples are known botanically as pomes, from the Latin pomum, or orchard fruit, sharing the characteristics of a paper-like central core, crisp flesh around the core, and a thin outer skin. Interestingly, the apple has stood for both immortality — as in the precious apples doled out to the gods by the Nordic goddess Iduna to keep them forever young — and exactly the opposite, for the earthly cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. Pomona, the ancient Roman goddess of fertility and fruition, represented the apple’s antique association with the great yearly cycle, this mandala-like imagery stemming from the apple’s ostensible resemblance to the sun: born each day in pink apple-blossom clouds, ripening from yellow to red as it crosses the sky, ultimately to drop as if from a tree into the west.

Apples were first delivered to North America with Columbus in 1493, and records from the Massachusetts Bay Company indicate that apples were being grown in New England as early as 1630. Surely our most venerated American apple grower is the folk hero John Chapman of Leominster, Massachusetts, better known as Johnny Appleseed. Living off the land during the first half of the nineteenth century, Johnny Appleseed founded countless orchards throughout Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, and Illinois. Today, in part thanks to John Chapman, there are more than 7,000 varieties of apples grown in the U.S., although a scant 20 varieties comprise more than 90 percent of our commercial apple industry. Some of the most popular are Cortland, Granny Smith, Red Delicious, Empire, Fuji, Gala, McIntosh, and Winesap; but why not search out some of the lesser known historical favorites like Ashmead’s Kernel, Celestia, Esopus Spitzenberg, or Newtown Pippin, the latter two being preferred by Thomas Jefferson and George Washington, respectively.

Photo of Apple ‘Celestia’.

Apple ‘Celestia’

Apples can be tricky in terms of procreation, as a seed from a chosen variety cannot be trusted to replicate its parent. Therefore, apple trees are generally created by grafting scions, or shoots, which will grow true to species, onto accommodating rootstock. As well, all apple trees need cross-pollination to fruit successfully, so it will be necessary to companion plant with another type that blossoms at the same time to insure optimal yield. That said, apples are generally hardy and uncomplaining creatures, although they will grow best where winter temperatures hover near freezing for at least two months of the year, and one should take care to prune young trees during their formative years so that their branches are equally distributed. An apple tree will begin to bear fruit 6 to 8 years from planting but is then capable of producing fruit for up to an astonishing 100 years, which is a lot of applesauce. And that would be the perfect thing to do with any of your homegrown beauties!

Apricot

Prunus armeniaca

In ancient Persia, the apricot was reverentially referred to as

the egg of the sun, and in the Near East, where the

apricot flourishes, it is respectfully called the moon of the faithful.

Northeastern China has been identified as this sunny, sweet-fleshed fruit’s birthplace, most placing the date at about 1000 B.C. A Prunus member of the greater rose family, the apricot subsequently spread throughout Asia, ultimately wending its way into Armenia (thus armeniaca ) by about 300 B.C. Apricots, however, appear to be a far-flung and generally unsociable family, as every region of every country in which the apricot thrives seems to have its own signature cultivar and little selection seems to have taken place anywhere within the apricot genus until the nineteenth century.

The word apricock first appeared in English print in 1551, deriving from the Latin praecoquus, also the root for precocious and, in this case, meaning early ripening. Symbolically, the apricot, along with the peach and other stone fruits, was an ancient icon of female genitalia; in medieval France, for instance, the word abricot was a popular slang term for vulva.

Photo of Blenheim Apricot.

It was Franciscan missionaries who introduced the apricot to North America, and it was in the area south of San Francisco in 1792 that the first major U.S. production of apricots was recorded. Here, however, we come up against a somewhat cheerless truth: 95 percent of U.S.–grown apricots still come from California. To lunge straight to the heart of it, the apricot is a fruit plant with a tiresome propensity for swooning if the temperatures and climatic conditions are not wholly agreeable. For instance, apricots are keen on lots of moisture but not soggy feet, seem to prefer a cool, foggy summer and a damp, warm one equally, and can be broadly subject to loss of bloom or fruit by spring frost, while at the same moment requiring an adequately cold winter dormancy. Difficult, as one would refer to a testy relative, I think about sums it up.

Photo of Rival Apricot.

Apricot ‘Rival’

Medicinally, apricot seeds were used to treat tumors in an astonishingly early A.D. 502, and in Great Britain apricot oil was used as an erstwhile cure for tumors and ulcers throughout the seventeenth century. Interestingly, the wildly controversial drug Laetrile, ultimately disproved as a viable cancer therapy, was originally derived from an extract of apricot seeds. Modern medicine, however, does confirm that apricots are an excellent source of beta-carotene (one apricot will provide you with 10 percent of your daily recommended amount), vitamin C, iron, potassium, and fiber.

Apricots are truly lovely trees: small to medium-sized with a dense, spreading canopy, glossy reddish-brown bark, pretty heart-shaped leaves, and positive flurries of pretty white-to-pink Prunus blossoms. Another positive is that most U.S.–grown cultivars are self-fruitful, so you only need to plant one. There are literally scores of apricot varieties, so if I haven’t managed to dissuade you from attempting cultivation, it would pay to visit your local nursery and have them advise you about the likeliest prospects for your zone and climate. Although it can take 4 years for a young tree to begin fruiting, once established, a single tree can bear as much as 45 pounds of apricots a year for 20 years or more. Culturally, despite their need for regular waterings, try to keep in mind the finicky apricot’s aversion to wet feet. Also, for optimal fruit size and harvest, you may want to thin your fruits to every 2 to 4 inches per branch. Our Viennese friends have historically plied us with mouthwatering apricot dumplings in season, wrapped in phyllo dough parcels and drenched in butter with a sprinkling of sugar, so here let me recommend that sumptuous recipe to you. Try to make two your limit.

Photo of Rival Apricot.

Apricot ‘Rival’ pit

Artichoke

Cynara scolymus

In 1948 in Castroville, California, "artichoke capital of the

world," Norma Jean Baker (soon to be known as

Marilyn Monroe) got her first leg up in life when she was

elected the very first Artichoke Festival Queen.

The artichoke is the edible flower bud of a large, thistle-like plant of the sunflower family native to the Mediterranean and Near East, its common name coming to us from the Arabic al kharshuf. The Moroccan invaders brought the artichoke to Spain in the ninth or tenth century, whence it became alcahofa, the Italians subsequently turning it to carciofa. The Romans were fond of artichokes imported from Carthage and Cordova for their banquets, and thought the plants’ spines looked like the teeth of Cynara, the dog of mythological tales; thus this cultivar’s Latin sobriquet Cynara scolymus. In the first century A.D., the Roman naturalist Pliny noted, not with great pleasure, that in his time the artichoke was held in higher esteem than any other potherb in Rome, further commenting that even donkeys were smart enough to refuse to eat them.

Elizabethan folklore held that the artichoke, introduced into England in 1548, was created when an ill-tempered beauty angered the gods and was transformed by them into a prickly thistle, a form more suited to her personality. At the turn of the nineteenth century, the German poet Goethe was, like Pliny, appalled by the continental taste for artichokes, exclaiming incredulously in his Travels Through Italy, The peasants eat thistles! However, in Scotland around the same time, artichokes were so highly valued that it was thought only prosperous men should have the right to grow them and that it would be impertinent for a lesser man to even attempt such a folly.

Photo of Artichokes.

Artichoke ‘Opera’ | Artichoke ‘Gigante’ | Artichoke ‘Imperial’

Like many antique vegetables, artichokes were prescribed by ancient physicians for all kinds of physical ailments, from jaundice and coughs to the faltering libidos of men, the French herbalists Estienne and Liebault coyly suggesting in the sixteenth century that a diet rich in artichoke extracts could cure weakness of the generative parts. The juice, when pressed from the plant before it blossomed, was also used as a popular hair restorative. We know now that artichokes are packed with phytonutrients and are highly efficacious in protecting against cancers, heart disease, liver dysfunction, high cholesterol, and diabetes. In fact, in terms of antioxidancy, in 2004 the USDA rated the artichoke seventh in the pantheon of edible plants.

If I had to pick one major piece of architecture to anchor a vegetable bed, an artichoke would be it. The most refined of thistles, these large, neatly carved, almost prehistoric-looking buds grow to magnificent proportions on sturdy 4- to 5-foot stems amid beautifully architectural, deeply cut, silver-green leaves that arch fountain-like from the crown. The Italians have made selections of both purple and green artichokes since the fifteenth century, the purple varieties, historically, thought to be more tender than the green types. Our most common artichokes are of the round, green globe variety,