When I was a kid growing up in rural Missouri, my lawn was full of dandelions, chicory, clover, broadleaf plantain, and other hardy little plants. Wherever I moved in the United States, I found many familiar faces in the greenery around me. And some of these plants became early totems of mine, teaching me ways of connecting with the land I lived on.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that these were also invasive species, not native to this country. They’d been transplanted by Europeans who arrived over the centuries; some were deliberately planted, while others hitched a ride in animal feed and other goods. Regardless, they put their roots down in new soil and became as much a part of the landscape as native plants, if not more so.
Today we often consider them to be weeds, since they grow in places where they aren’t wanted, like gardens and sidewalks. The bigger problem is that some of them out-compete native species and cause problems in the ecosystems they’ve invaded. Here in Oregon, Himalayan blackberry is one incredibly pernicious example; it grows by spreading thick, thorny canes across wide areas and is very difficult to get rid of once it’s settled in. It shoves other plants out of the way, and many acres of disturbed land have become completely covered in nothing but blackberry thicket, leaving little room for most of the wildlife that normally lives there.
Many efforts have been made to eradicate invasive plant species and reintroduce native ones. You can take part in this work as well—and in some really creative ways!
Edible Invasives
Many of the plants that have been introduced to the United States have long been considered edibles in Europe, even if they’ve largely fallen out of fashion in the face of modern agriculture. Some of them have flavors that may be considered strong or bitter by many standards, hence why they aren’t grown on massive scales. Still, they often have plenty of vitamins and other nutrients, and if you’re going to pick them out of your garden anyway, you may as well eat them!
Please be aware that not all parts of a given plant are safe to eat. Additionally, older leaves of some plants may be too tough and bitter to eat even with lots of cooking. Avoid eating plants that grow along roadways or other sources of pollution.
Wild Greens Salad
This is best made in late spring and early summer when there’s still some rain. Pick a mixture of edible leaves. My salads usually include dandelion (Taraxacum officianale), bedstraw or cleavers (Galium aparine), popweed or bittercress (Cardamine oligosperma), broadleaf plantain (Plantago major), and the flowers of white clover (Trifolium repens) and red clover (Trifolium pratense), along with a small amount of creeping wood sorrel (Oxalis corniculata) or Bermuda buttercup (Oxalis pes-caprae). You don’t want to eat a lot of oxalis in one sitting, as it has a lot of oxalic acid (which is also found in spinach, chives, and other common garden plants), and too much can be toxic. Wash the plants thoroughly, then toss in a bowl. You can add more conventional vegetables to cut the strong flavors if you like, or add in cut-up fruit and berries for sweetness.
An alternate use for these greens is ingredients in soup. Simply toss them in a pot with your favorite type of stock (I prefer chicken or mushroom) and whatever soup fixings you like, and cook thoroughly but not to the point of utter mushiness. Cooking will dull the flavors of the greens a bit and will neutralize oxalic acid, but the soup will still taste different from one made with more conventional vegetables like carrots and onions.
Fried Dandelions
Want a surprisingly tasty treat for a light dessert? Pick as many yellow dandelion flowers as you can find. Wash them, remove any remaining insects hiding in the petals, and pat dry. Then remove as many of the sepals (the green, petal-like things just under the yellow flower itself) as you can. Do this quickly, as the flowers will soon start to close, and you want them open for the next part. Now stir a few eggs together, and then pour some flour in a separate bowl. (I like instant pancake batter for this.) Dredge the flowers in the egg and then the flour, and fry in oil in a skillet, turning over halfway. You only need to fry them a couple of minutes, until browned. Set them on a paper towel to absorb extra oil, then serve while still hot.
I like to put a little clover honey on mine and serve them with fresh white clover flowers. However, you can also use them to jazz up some vanilla ice cream, and the honey and clover are also a nice addition here.
Weedy Crafts
Don’t want to actually eat the weeds, or have some that you really shouldn’t consume? You can still make some awesome projects with them! Who knew your backyard could be a craft store with lots of freebies for the taking?
Weedy Paper
This is a two-for-one deal—you can get rid of weeds and scrap paper. First, pick a bunch of weeds and press them between the pages of a few heavy books until they’re dry. This may take a few weeks depending on how thick they are. Next, get some paper out of your recycling bin and tear it up into little pieces; it doesn’t have to be primarily white paper, though the more ink on the paper the more blue- or gray-tinted your end product will end up being.
Get an old blender that you don’t intend to use for food anymore, or buy one from a thrift store or yard sale. Add ½ cup of paper scraps to 2 cups of water in the blender, and blend for 30 seconds or until the paper is reduced to pulp. Pour it into a larger container, like a plastic storage bin. Blend a few more batches until the bin has at least a few inches of pulp in it. Add some food coloring to dye the paper, if you like; green is a nice choice. Toss your dried weeds in at this point—you can reserve a few particularly nice ones for more deliberate placing later.
For the next part, you may wish to have a specialized screen and mold set for making small rectangles of paper; it should come with instructions on how to use it. The short version is this: dip the screen mold into the pulp, lift it up, and then gently shake it up and down and side to side to get the pulp evenly distributed. If you have any especially nice dried plants, carefully press them onto the surface of the pulp. Press the mold pulp-down on an old bath towel, and sponge away water that oozes up through the screen. You may have to do this a few times to get out as much extra water as possible. Carefully pull the mold away from the paper, and leave it to dry for a few days.
The paper will become thinner as you make more sheets. You can either choose to add more blended paper to your pulp mix or to make several thicknesses of paper out of one batch.
Ivy Wreath
English ivy is a lovely plant, but like Himalayan blackberry it can take over many acres of wild land in just a few years and is difficult to eradicate. Thankfully, its vines lend themselves well to weaving! Let’s say you have a big pile of ivy you just pulled. Start by untangling a few of the longer vines from the rest. Strip the leaves off, and put them in the pages of a few heavy books to dry.
Now, take one of your vines and coil it up into a circle as though it were a garden hose. You can make it as large or small as you like, though if you haven’t woven a wreath before, you may wish to keep it 1 foot or less in diameter so that it’s easier to manage. Once you have a circle that’s about 3 or 4 vines thick, take the rest of the vine (or a new one if you’ve run out) and start winding it around the circle like candy striping. You want to wind it tightly, leaving about ½ inch between stripes at the most, but be careful not to break the vine. Once you reach the end of a vine, tuck it in between a couple of the vines in your initial circle or under a couple of the stripes. Keep winding new vines around the wreath in this candy-stripe fashion until it reaches the desired thickness—or try winding a new vine in the opposite direction!
When you’re at the end of your last vine, tuck it into the wreath securely. If you’re worried about it coming out, take the wire from an old twist tie that’s been stripped of paper and use that to secure the end in place. Then leave the wreath in a cool, dry place to dry for a few weeks. You may notice that it shrinks a bit as it dries; that’s normal. If your wrapping wasn’t tight enough, the wreath may feel a little loose. You can wrap it with a bit of decorative yarn or ribbon to help it stay together.
Now get the ivy leaves that you’ve dried. Using a hot glue gun or tacky craft glue, attach the leaves to the wreath however you like. You can also add other decorations, in order to include other dried invasive plants.
Doing Your Homework
My experience has been entirely in the United States, and so the examples I’ve given are from there. However, there are invasive species all over the world. Many of them are European in origin, though this is not universally true.
If you want to find out more about invasive plant species in your area, contact your local wildlife, forestry, or other nature-oriented commission. You can also ask any local environmental organizations and plant nurseries; even if they can’t help you, they may be able to point you in the right direction. Once you’ve positively identified a plant, you should research it further to make sure it’s safe to eat and handle. Please do not ever eat any wild plant that you cannot 100% identify as edible! Be cautious when eating a plant for the first time, as you may experience an upset stomach or other adverse effects if you are allergic or otherwise sensitive.
Suggested Reading
This essay should not be your only source on eating wild plants; please refer to the resources below when doing research.
Websites
The US Department of Agriculture has a website to help identify invasive species of all sorts (http://www.invasivespeciesinfo.gov/resources/identify.shtml). Also check out their state-by-state database of invasive and noxious species (http://plants.usda.gov/java/noxiousDriver). These are both great sites if you like the idea of saving the planet by eating invasive species: http://eattheinvaders.org/ and http://invasivore.org/.
Books
Many books on foraging wild plants include some that are invasive in theUnited States and elsewhere. Even if there aren’t any of your local invaders in there, the books are still great resources for how to find and make use of supposedly “undesirable” wild plants. Here are a couple of favorites:
Thayer, Samuel. Nature’s Garden: A Guide to Identifying, Harvesting, and Preparing Wild Edible Plants. Bruce, WI: Forager’s Harvest, 2010.
Zachos, Ellen. Backyard Foraging: 65 Familiar Plants You Didn’t Know You Could Eat. North Adams, MA: Story Publishing, 2013.
Lupa is an author, artist, nature nerd, and wannabe polymath living in Portland, Oregon. She is the author of several books on totemism and nature spirituality, including Nature Spirituality From the Ground Up: Connect with Totems in Your Ecosystem (Llewellyn, 2016), and is the creator of the Tarot of Bones. Her primary website is http://www.thegreenwolf.com, and she can be contacted with questions or commentary at lupa.greenwolf@gmail.com.
Cordial craft is a gorgeous bit of magic in the kitchen—one of those sleights of hand that impresses your guests even as you give a secret smile. For all their elegance, homemade beverages are easy to make and satisfying to enjoy. They’re also sustainable—a great way to use fruit when extra abounds and might be a bit too ripe for eating. With a little time and a few simple tools, you can fill your larder with an array of cordials, shrubs, safts, and other treats. And whether you’re finishing a holiday feast, sitting around a campfire with friends, or picnicking on a sunny beach, the perfect libation will always add to the occasion.
Your Ingredients
Any herbal workings should begin with the best ingredients, and beverages are no exception. I only use organic produce when crafting, and the more local, the better. Explore your local farmer’s market or green grocer. Many such purveyors will allow you to order ahead or buy by the crate, which saves a tremendous amount of money. Even better: grow or pick your own ingredients.
The recipes given here all rely on sugar. I prefer plain white sugar because it’s clean, chemically stable, and works consistently and reliably. Raw (turbinado) sugar can be used interchangeably with white sugar. If you want to use brown sugar, honey, agave nectar, or another sweetener, it will probably work, but you’ll have to do some experimenting. I don’t recommend trying these recipes with sugar substitute. The syruping and fermentation processes are chemical reactions involving sugar and also may (as in the case of fruit cordials or infused alcohols) rely on sugar as a preservative. I recommend making a small (one-fourth size or smaller) batch as a test—that way, you won’t waste a lot of ingredients if it doesn’t work the first time.
If your recipe calls for vinegar, use a high-quality apple cider vinegar—homemade or organic if you can find it. If a recipe calls for alcohol, the general rule is to only use alcohol you would be willing to drink. In other words, if it isn’t drinkable by itself, it’s not going to do anything good for your recipe. For “clear” alcohol, I prefer a good-quality vodka, but Everclear will work too. I’ve found that asking liquor store owners for recommendations is really helpful; they’ll point out choices that are high in quality and taste but not necessarily at the top end, pricewise. Saving money is good!
What Is an Infusion?
Beverage crafting begins with a little history of the most basic herbal preparation: the infusion. The simplest and most ancient form of potion is the infusion, created by steeping or soaking a mixture of plant materials in some sort of liquid. If you’ve ever had a cup of tea, you’ve had an herbal infusion. In an infusion, the liquid extracts the active constituents from the solid material. This liquid, called the “menstruum” or solvent, can consist of a number of different liquids, including water, oil, drinkable alcohol, or honey. The remaining solid material is known as the “marc.”
An infusion containing one ingredient is traditionally called a simple, while an infusion with two or more ingredients is often called a brew or potion. An infusion with primarily medicinal qualities is frequently referred to as a tisane, while a philter (or philtre) is a brew historically described as a love potion. Infusions designed to fill the user with health and vigor are called tonics or elixirs, while those that remove toxins from the system are said to be cleansing or detoxifying.
Infusions are quick and easy to create and can be made with ingredients most of us have on hand. They’re flexible and offer an almost infinite variety of tastes and effects, as you’ll see in the descriptions to come. As you read on, keep in mind that even the most elegantly crafted cordials and liqueurs come from the same homely, infused beginnings.
What Are Cordials and Liqueurs?
A cordial is an alcohol-based infusion made with fruit pulp and juice. In contrast, liqueurs may or may not include fruit but use herbs, barks, flowers, roots, seeds, and sometimes cream. Both cordials and liqueurs can include spices and flavorings and are traditionally consumed in small amounts after the evening meal. They may also be used as flavor accents or as ingredients in other recipes.
Cordials and liqueurs are the offspring of medieval herbal remedies, whose makers found that high percentages of alcohol or sugar could preserve and prolong the life of any infusion. Cordials then were believed to be invigorating, stimulating, and even aphrodisiacal. Folks who consumed a volume of cordial or liqueur were noted to have a temporarily elevated mood, followed by somnolence (sleep!) and inevitably one heck of a hangover. Some of these beverages were both elegant and precious. The Royal Usquebaugh was fortified with flecks of gold leaf, echoing the alchemical aurum potabile, “drinkable gold.” Usquebaugh comes from a Celtic word meaning “lifewater,” with the golden flecks symbolizing the power of the sun. The French liqueur known as Green Chartreuse, still made today, is a natural infusion of more than 130 plants and herbs and is felt to have strong tonic and healthful benefits, in addition to a pleasing—if acquired—taste.
Homemade cordials are simple blends of fruit, sugar, and alcohol left to infuse for several weeks before bottling. Most cordials have an alcohol content between 15 and 30 percent (8 to 15 proof). The alcohol content of liqueurs tends to be somewhat higher.
Making Fruit Cordials
Cordial craft is a matter of time, patience, and good ingredients. You’ll need 1-quart glass canning (mason) jars, fresh fruit, sugar, and good-quality alcohol. Wash the jars and lids in hot water and air dry or put through a dishwasher cycle. Rinse the fruit, drain on towels, and crush or chop as directed. It is very important to measure all ingredients and have everything ready to go before beginning. In the cooking world, this is known as mise en place (“putting in place”). It helps you stay organized and ensures you don’t forget any ingredients.
Begin by preparing your fruit (see proportions below) and measuring ingredients. Spoon the fruit into a 1-quart glass mason jar; a canning funnel will help avoid mess. Add sugar and slowly fill with vodka, stirring with a table knife as you fill to eliminate air pockets. Leave an inch of headspace. Screw on the lid and shake well. Leave the jar sitting on your kitchen counter—out of direct sunlight—and shake vigorously twice a day. The sugar will take a couple of days to dissolve fully, so don’t be worried if it remains visible for a bit.
Your cordial will be ready in 3 to 4 weeks; the finished brew will have a rich, deep color and flavor. Strain it through a fine sieve or cheesecloth into a clean bowl, then pour the liquid into a decorative bottle or decanter. Store in the refrigerator, bringing to room temperature before drinking. It is best consumed within a few weeks but is drinkable for at least a year, although you may note that the alcohol contents rises and the drink becomes sharper as it ages.
Cane Berry Cordials
2 cups crushed cane berries
¾ cup sugar
Vodka—about 1 cup, or as much as is needed to fill the quart mason jar
Stone Fruit Cordials
Same as above, but finely chop or pulverize the fruit, which can include cherries or juicy strawberries.
Cranberry Cordials
2 cups finely chopped or pulverized cranberries
1 cup sugar
Vodka—about 1 cup, or as much as is needed to fill the quart mason jar
Age for 4 to 6 weeks. This cordial makes a gorgeous holiday drink. Rum may be used for a portion of the alcohol.
Some cordials include brandy or other spirits. For a brandied cherry cordial, follow the above stone fruit recipe but use ¼ cup brandy and ¾ cup vodka. Cover tightly; shake every 2 days and age for 2 to 3 months. Experimenting with your favorite mixtures is part of the fun in cordial crafting.
You can use herbs and spices to flavor your cordials too. For best results, go organic and work with whole spices rather than powdered: star anise, whole allspice, cinnamon sticks, whole cloves, sliced or candied ginger, cardamom pods, and so forth. Using whole spices makes it easier to retrieve the material and makes it easier to control the flavor.
Try not to open your in-process cordials any more than you need to, for opening may introduce germs and molds from the air. On the other hand, do take a tiny taste—using a clean spoon—every week or so. Learning how the taste changes and evolves is part of your work as a budding cordial crafter.
Serve your cordials in a fine decanter for the perfect toast or aperitif. Stir a spoonful into your favorite vinaigrette, pour over ice cream, or concoct a delicious adult milkshake. A bit of raspberry or cherry cordial stirred into a rich mug of hot chocolate is deliciously wicked!
The Vinegar Shrub
Shrubs are the cordial’s grandmother, combining fruit and sugar with vinegar for a splendidly sharp, refreshing drink that’s perfect in hot weather. Shrubs are also called “drinking vinegar” and are all the rage in modern upscale restaurants.
For a raspberry shrub, wash and crush ripe raspberries and add 1 part apple cider vinegar to 6 parts crushed berries. If needed, add a bit of extra vinegar so that the fruit is covered with vinegar. Mix well, cover, and set aside, undisturbed, for 4 to 5 days. Then skim off any foam and strain through a sieve or cheesecloth, discarding the solid berries (the marc). Measure the juice and add 1 part sugar to 2 parts juice. Boil the juice in a large saucepan until the shrub is reduced to a syrupy consistency and pour into clean jars. Store the shrub in the refrigerator for up to a year or freeze for longer storage.
The above recipe will work for just about any fruit—the juicier, the better. For tart fruits, use 1½ parts sugar for the final boiling. For super sweet fruits, use less sugar.
To serve your shrub, spoon two or three tablespoonfuls over a glass of chopped ice. Top with water, sparkling water, seltzer, ginger ale, or other soda-type beverages and stir. If you have a home soda machine, your shrubs will be a great way to flavor the homemade bubbly beverage.
Cordials, Fruit Syrups, and Safts
In Aussie-speak, a cordial is an alcohol-free fruit syrup that’s mixed with sparkling water or soda before drinking. This refreshing drink is served at meals and consumed by the tumbler. Sweden’s “saft” is much like the Australian cordial in that it involves an alcohol-free mixture of sugar and fruit juice, but saft is a cooked, reduced mixture.
To make a fruit syrup, you must first create a simple syrup, which is made by boiling 1 part water and 1 part sugar until the sugar dissolves. Allow to cool, then combine 1 part fruit juice with 1 part simple syrup; add lemon juice (or finely grated peel) and other whole spices if desired. Bottle in clean 1-quart mason jars and refrigerate for up to one week, or freeze for longer storage. To use this as an Australian cordial, mix 1 part fruit syrup with 10 parts sparkling beverage and serve over ice.
To make saft, crush 4 cups fresh berries (or include stone fruit for up to half the volume). Combine crushed fruit with a 1-inch piece of peeled, sliced fresh ginger and 2 cups water in a saucepan. Bring to a simmer and cook until fruit is soft, about 10 minutes. Strain the mixture into a second saucepan, pressing gently. Discard the fruit. Add 1½ cups sugar to the strained liquid. Bring to a simmer and cook until the liquid reduces to a light syrup, about 15 minutes. Cool and pour into clean bottles; refrigerate for 3 months or freeze for longer periods. To serve, pour ¼ cup (4 tablespoons) saft into an 8 to 10 ounce tumbler, add ice, and fill with soda or ginger ale. Of course, you could also include an ounce of your favorite alcoholic beverage too.
A Few More Treats
Interested in more? Infused waters are an easy way to replace sweet beverages in one’s daily diet. Simply fill a pint or quart mason jar with slices or small pieces of ripe fruit (berries and citrus are especially good), add water, and allow to infuse for a few hours in the refrigerator. The results are beautiful, tasty, and healthful.
Looking for something more exotic? A search through old cookbooks will uncover the English bragget, a boiled, fermented cordial of beer, honey, peppercorns, cinnamon, cloves, and mace. Claretum was another English concoction of claret wine and honey, boiled down to a syrup and strained to clarity. You might discover aqua mirabilis—“wonderful water”—a richly spiced wine using whole spices and sliced fruits, not unlike the Spanish sangria. Ireland’s ancient aqua composita combines anise, molasses, dates, and cloves to make a rich, spicy cordial.
Explore a hearth full of liquid experiments: may you sip well!
Susan Pesznecker is a writer, college English teacher, nurse, practicing herbalist, and hearth Pagan/Druid living in northwestern Oregon. Sue holds a master’s degree in professional writing and loves to read, watch the stars, camp with her wonderpoodle, and work in her own biodynamic garden. She is cofounder of the Druid Grove of Two Coasts and the online Ars Viarum Magicarum, a magical conservatory and community (www.magicalconservatory.com). Sue has authored Yule, The Magickal Retreat, and Crafting Magick with Pen and Ink (all Llewellyn), and is a regular contributor to the Llewellyn annuals. Visit her at www.susanpesznecker.com and www.facebook.com/SusanMoonwriterPesznecker.
The brilliant red fruit we call the cranberry may be small in size, but it’s big in flavor. Sometimes called “craneberry,” as the flower is said to resemble a crane’s head, the North American Vaccinium macrocarpon grows on a trailing, vine-like shrub that rarely reaches over ten inches in height; it is part of the larger heath family, Ericaceae. This native to New England (especially Cape Cod) and the Great Lakes region of Canada was widely traded amongst native peoples of the region. It was often dried and combined with venison and melted fat to make pemmican, a fruit-and-meat jerky of sorts, which I call the original energy bar. Cranberries are also native to Europe and Scandinavia, as well as northern Russia, and claim the jewel-like lingonberry as immediate relative and the popular blueberry and mountain huckleberry as cousins. They were successfully cultivated in Massachusetts starting around 1816, and a healthy bog can produce up to 20,000 pounds per acre. They are enjoyed all year round as a dried fruit (usually sweetened), but they make their biggest impact at harvest feasts and the American Thanksgiving. Cranberries can last up to a year frozen whole, making them very convenient for all sorts of recipes. Unsweetened cranberries and their juice offer a myriad of health benefits: they include polyphenols, which are associated with antitumor activity; they are used as a preventative for urinary tract infections; they have antioxidant flavonoids; and they contain salicylic acid, which reduces swelling. Food should always be our first medicine.
Let’s Eat!
Here is a splendid cranberry condiment that can be prepared a week in advance of serving. Naturally, this can accompany your roast turkey dinner, but perhaps you will be persuaded to try it in these other, not-so-traditional dishes. Please choose all-natural and organic ingredients whenever possible.
First, the ketchup. Not so incidentally, the word “ketchup” does not traditionally or specifically refer to the popular tomato ketchup/catsup/ke-tsiap (from a Chinese dialect meaning “sauce of brined fish”) with which we are familiar; it has also been prepared using mushrooms, lemons, apples, walnuts, and even anchovies and oysters. Ketchups first originated in the kitchens of Southeast Asian countries, including Malaya (modern-day Malaysia), Java, and China. Ketchup is simply a table sauce for enhancing the flavor of other foods.
Cranberry Ketchup
This recipe is a major component of the ones that follow. If you like more cloves or less ginger or want to add some peppercorns or a few raisins, give it a try. (You have my blessing.)
For the spice bag:
1 cinnamon stick (3–4 inches)
6 allspice berries
4 whole cloves
1 dried chile pepper
1-inch piece fresh ginger root
For the ketchup:
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup coarsely chopped red onion
1 teaspoon orange zest
1 teaspoon lemon zest
½ cup apple cider vinegar
12 ounce package fresh or frozen whole cranberries
2 cups water
Pinch salt
1 cup natural sugar or brown sugar, or to taste
1 tablespoon fresh orange juice
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Take the spices and tie them in a little cheesecloth bag so they don’t get loose. Set aside.
In a large heavy saucepan, melt butter over medium-low heat, add onion and citrus zest, and sauté for about 10 minutes or until onion is soft but not browned. Add vinegar, cranberries, water, salt, and spice bag. Turn heat to medium-high and bring mixture to a boil. Cook until berries pop (about 10 minutes) then remove from heat. Cool to room temperature and remove spice bag.
Pour berry mixture into a food processor or blender, and puree until smooth; return to pan. Add sugar, then bring mixture to a boil. Reduce heat to low and then simmer, stirring occasionally to keep from sticking, for about 1 hour or until thickened. Remove from heat and stir in citrus juices.
Store in a tightly covered glass jar in refrigerator, where it will keep for up to 1 week. Makes about 3 cups.
Pucker Up and Try Something New
Cranberries are known to be astringent—they make your mouth turn inside out—but when sweetened they become tangy, and their acidic nature helps make rich foods more digestible. What follows are several suggestions using cran-berry ketchup that are (mostly) simple to prepare and certainly appealing even to the not-so-adventurous types.
Oven Fries
6 baking potatoes or sweet potatoes
Olive oil to coat
Salt and pepper to season
Cranberry ketchup
Heat oven to 400°F for baking potatoes or 350°F for sweet potatoes. Wash and peel potatoes, then dry on a towel. Cutting lengthwise, carefully slice potatoes into quarters or sixths (depending on their size) and place in a large bowl. Drizzle just enough olive oil to coat the potatoes with a light film, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Arrange on a baking sheet and place in oven. Bake about 1 hour or until easily pierced with a knife tip.
Serve hot from the oven with cranberry ketchup for dipping. Makes about 4 servings.
Spinach Salad
This next recipe (more like guidelines, really) puts a bit of a spin on so-called traditional spinach salad in that it’s not drenched with bacon fat and vinegar, which I don’t miss at all. But fear not, there is still bacon! And speaking of spin, do use your salad spinner, if you have one, for washing the spinach.
½ cup cranberry ketchup
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 bag (10 ounces) fresh spinach, washed and dried
1 large apple, thinly sliced
½ cup cubed sharp cheddar cheese (about 2 ounces)
½ cup pecan halves, toasted
6 slices bacon, fried crisp and crumbled
In a small bowl, mix the cranberry ketchup with the vinegar. Set aside; this will be the salad dressing. (You might want to double this if you like a lot of dressing.)
Distribute the spinach into four individual salad bowls. Arrange the apple slices and cheese in each bowl, then drizzle about 2 tablespoons salad dressing over each. Sprinkle the pecans and bacon over each salad and serve. Add remaining dressing as desired.
Makes 4 salads.
Saucy Sausages
This is easy-peasy to put together for a pot-luck. Simply cut up 2 pounds of your favorite smoked sausages into 1-inch lengths and brown in a skillet to render fat. Drain and place sausage in a slow cooker. Pour in cranberry ketchup to cover, cover with lid, and cook on high for 2 to 3 hours until hot and bubbly. Serve.
Makes 4 to 6 servings.
Shrimp Cocktail
1 pound cooked and cleaned large shrimp, cut into bite-sized pieces
1 stalk (rib) celery, diced
¼ cup frozen corn kernels, rinsed to thaw
1 cup (or more) cranberry ketchup
Crusty bread for serving
In a mixing bowl, combine the shrimp, celery and corn with enough cranberry ketchup to make a moist but not drippy combo. Chill until ready to serve with the bread.
Makes 4 shrimp cocktails.
Cranberry Cream Cheese Spread
Delicious and a snap to prepare. Mix ½ cup cranberry ketchup with 8 ounces softened cream cheese in a bowl, then spoon into a pretty bowl or crock for serving. Spread on whole grain crackers. (Try and walk away from this one.)
Turkey Burgers
Everyone has their favorite way to make a hamburger. For turkey burgers, I like to season the meat with plenty of salt and pepper, a pinch of garlic powder, and finely chopped water chestnuts. Since ground turkey is fairly lean, cooking the burger in a skillet helps keep its shape and prevents it from falling through the grates of a barbecue grill (speaking from experience). If you have an electric, fancy-schmancy burger maker, by all means use it, especially if it enhances caramelization (i.e., flavor). Make your turkey burger according to your favorite method, and use cranberry ketchup for the condiment, with thinly sliced red onion and crisp lettuce or sprouts to garnish. Hold the mustard!
Turkey Cranberry Wraps
The hardest part about making any kind of wrap is not overfilling the tortilla so that when you actually roll it up, you can do so without squishing out the filling. Here are simple and simply delicious instructions for making a turkey cranberry wrap.
Gently warm a large flour tortilla over a burner or skillet to soften; remove from heat before it gets dry. Spread cream cheese all over the tortilla, except for a bit of an edge on one side. Spread some cranberry ketchup on the cream cheese—enough to really amp up the flavor. Next, layer on a few pieces of thinly sliced turkey, a few clover or alfalfa sprouts (washed and dried), and finally a sprinkle of pumpkin seeds (pepitas).
Start rolling on the opposite side of the plain edge, tucking firmly and evenly; don’t worry about folding in the ends, since this is not a burrito. Roll it up all the way, then slice diagonally in the middle. Serve with purple heirloom potato chips for a fabulous lunch.
Oven-Glazed Barbecue Chicken
This final recipe, for oven-glazed barbecue chicken, is a bit more complicated but only on the surface. (And the aroma in your house will be heavenly torture.) I recommend serving the chicken with a lemony cabbage and apple slaw (no mayonnaise), a side of rice studded with dried cranberries and pistachios, and a cold, refreshing lager or crisp hard cider. Reservations suggested!
1 large (4–6 pound) chicken, cut up into pieces
Salt and pepper to season
Cranberry ketchup
Heat oven to 400°F. Season the chicken with salt and plenty of pepper, then place it skin-side up in a shallow glass baking dish. (You might need to use two pans to avoid crowding the pieces: you don’t want them to steam.) Bake for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 350°F. Turn the pieces over and roast for another 15 minutes.
Now that the chicken has released some of its fat, pour off the fat and turn the chicken again to skin-side up. Spoon a bit of cranberry ketchup onto each piece. Roast for 15 minutes.
Spoon more sauce over the chicken. Roast again for 15 minutes. Now, turn the heat up again to 400°F, dabble with sauce once more, and roast for a final 15 minutes. (That’s 1 hour and 15 minutes total, or until done. If you use a smaller chicken, it will probably only take 1 hour, and you should baste it more often.) Serve piping hot from the oven with plenty of napkins.
Makes 4 servings of chicken.
Hungry for More?
Here are some additional ideas for using cranberry ketchup: as a glaze for pork roast or slow-cooked pork for shredding, as a finishing glaze for grilled salmon, poured over a baked brie wheel, on a ham and swiss cheese sandwich, next to succotash, or as dipping sauce for elk steak kabobs.
I hope I have provided you with plenty of inspiration for making cranberry ketchup. It doesn’t take unusual equipment or boiling kettles of water to “put up” in mason jars because it is quick and easy to prepare, and you don’t have to make a gallon. I have never tried freezing it, but I imagine it would keep for about two months this way. In any case, it won’t last long enough to worry about leftovers.
Doreen Shababy is the author of The Wild & Weedy Apothecary. She lives in northern Idaho and has surrounded herself with herbs and wild plants for decades, making and selling herbal remedies and concocting fabulousness in the kitchen. Doreen is fascinated with food history and has lately been involved with organic, gluten-free baking. She practices various and spontaneous forms of energy work, including Reiki and Source Connection, and she loves working with tarot and other oracle cards. Please visit her at www.doreenshababy.com and www.wildnweedy.com.
Sought-after recipes derive their success from mouth-watering ingredients that tantalize a diner’s taste buds. Every dish you savor has a flavor profile that sends a sensory message to your palate acknowledging that what you are eating is either a fantastic winner or a disappointing ud. Expert cooks find a way to elevate bland or boring foods to show-stopping heights. What’s the secret? The combination of cooking technique and special seasoning in the recipe adds life and enjoyment to the main components of the dish. Foods need balance, which calls for the right combination of salt, searing, zing, and sugar to temper the herbs and spices. Often a dish just needs a dash of lemon or sprinkling of herbs to bring it to a unified state after blending all the ingredients. The skillful use of herbs and spices is the secret to flavorful recipes.
When I was in elementary school, a neighbor on our street earned the reputation of making the best brownies in town. She baked and shared her goodies willingly so that many of the residents got to taste these beauties that were known as “Mary’s Brownies.” The word got out and neighbors traded notes when they received a treasured plate of them. Tasters swore she used mint in those gems, but my guess is that it could have been lemon thyme. Eager to duplicate the deliciousness without having to wait for the generosity of Mary’s next baking spree, the neighborhood women asked for the recipe so they could make their own batches. Mary blew them off time and again. The women were relentless and kept asking.
Finally, after a number of years—by this time I was married and never thought the recipe would see the light of day—Mary caved and gave the women her famous recipe. Even the most accomplished of these passionate bakers could not get their batches of brownies to taste the same as Mary’s. One day the women got together to share their experiences and to compare ingredients in the recipe she shared. They discovered that not one copy of the recipe had the same information. Mary had the last laugh.
The Truth About Secret Ingredients
The ingredients in a recipe aren’t the only secrets—techniques and products used in preparation also count, and integrity rules when you share a recipe. Those fluffy pancakes you flip on the griddle flop if you forget to tell others that you added two tablespoons of baking powder to the mix. Herbs and spices can make the ultimate taste difference in culinary masterpieces and are meant to enhance flavor rather than shock your taste buds.
When you prepare recipes that include herbs, be sure to specify whether you are using them in fresh or dried form. The dried version is usually three times more potent than the fresh and can overpower the palate if used incorrectly. For example, using oregano with a heavy hand ruins a dish, so use it in proportion to the nature of the dish—a little goes a long way. Provide specific instructions when using hot peppers, such as habaneros, in your spicy recipes. Let others know that you have either removed the seeds or left them in before adding to the mix, as the seeds hold intense heat. An unexpected high level of capsaicin leaves the diner with a scorched tongue.
Appetizer Secrets
Sometimes the secret ingredient actually lies in how you prepare a dish. I make a very simple recipe for baked artichoke dip that I found in a magazine many years ago and have shared it with anyone who has requested it over the years. It has five ingredients, takes only 20 minutes to assemble, and tastes divine. Here is the recipe:
Baked Artichoke Dip
1 cup grated parmesan cheese (grate your own)
1 cup mayonnaise (not low-fat)
1 garlic clove, mashed well
1 14-ounce can artichoke hearts, well-drained and chopped
1 heaping tablespoon of finely chopped herbs of your choice for the topping
Combine the first 4 ingredients in a bowl; then pour into an ungreased 1-quart baking dish and bake until firm and lightly browned at 350°F for 25 minutes. Remove from oven and top with herbs. I recommend a combination of finely chopped parsley, chives, and dill. Serve with crackers, bagel chips, or vegetables, or as a side serving with your main course.
Surprisingly, more than half the cooks who prepare this recipe get different results. They think I omitted one or more ingredients (definitely not my style) and want to know the secret. When I ask how it differs from mine, they usually say theirs is mushy, separates, has a less intense taste, or does not brown. Texture differences mean that something is off balance, so I know their preparation technique is the culprit. Over the years I have added extra detail to the recipe above to help steer cooks in the right direction.
Here are things I discovered that make this recipe fall apart: Many cooks do not want to grate the cheese and buy the grated supermarket version to save time. Not all parmesan is created equal: brands differ in quality and taste. If you grate cheese on a grater that is better used for zesting rather than on a box grater or in a food processor, you are going to have cheese with a very airy and watery consistency that really does not equal a cup, so you will probably have a mixture that starts separating. Adding the right amount of cheese gives the dish a light brown and slightly crusty top. Some cooks admit they use low-fat or fat-free mayonnaise, which breaks down and adds to the mushy consistency. Also, when I say the artichokes have to be well-drained, I mean they have to be squeezed intensely to rid them of any excess water. Drain them the first time before you remove them from the can; then do a fine chop and drain them at least one more time to make sure they don’t add water to the dish. This same principle applies if you are making quiches or pies calling for well-drained, thawed frozen spinach.
Topping the final product with herbs unifies the dish, bringing all the strong and the subtle flavors together rather than overpowering them. A sprinkle of herbs is a unifier, but a handful will stop the show and overpower the main dish.
Main Dish Secrets
The following recipe makes an abundance of tomato sauce and works well with your favorite pastas. Enrich the taste of the sauce by adding cooked meats such as sausage, meatballs (see the next recipe), spare ribs, or a pork chop that you have cooked ahead of time and set aside. If you prefer, you can cook some of the meat in the sauce pot before you add the vegetables as instructed below. This recipe yields 2½ gallons of sauce. Divide into portions and freeze the leftover sauce in containers for future meals. You might even fill a pint container for topping pizza or making chicken or eggplant parmesan.
Robust Red Tomato Sauce
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
½ green pepper, cut in quarters
1 clove garlic, minced
1 teaspoon butter
2 28-ounce cans crushed tomatoes
Meat of your choice (optional)
1 28-ounce can tomato puree
1 28-ounce can tomato sauce
1 28-ounce can San Marzano tomatoes (or add another can of puree instead)
1 14.5 ounce can diced tomatoes
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 heaping tablespoon brown sugar
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper
½ cup low-fat chicken broth
½ cup red wine (Cabernet or Burgundy)
1 ounce chunk of rind from parmesan, asiago, or Locatelli Pecorino Romano cheese (black skin removed)
3 leaves of sweet basil, torn (or 1 teaspoon dried)
Begin by heating the olive oil in the biggest heavy sauce pot you own. Then add the diced onion and green pepper chunks and sauté lightly for up to 5 minutes. Add the minced garlic clove and the teaspoon of butter and sauté another 2 minutes. Add the crushed tomatoes and stir. Then add any cooked meats you may be using to flavor the sauce. I add 12 to 16 meatballs, 6 to 8 Italian sausage links (sweet or hot pork seasoned with fennel) cut in half, and a few pork spare ribs or 1 to 2 pork chops cut in half. Then add the puree, tomato sauce, San Marzano tomatoes, diced tomatoes, and tomato paste and stir. Add brown sugar, salt (I use iodized, sea salt, or kosher salt—usually a mix of two), black pepper, crushed red peppers, and chicken broth. Stir well and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Add the red wine and cheese rind; boil, then lower the heat and simmer for 1 hour.
Taste for seasoning at this time. Add sweet basil and more salt if necessary, and cook for another 1½ hours, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and let cool for at least 30 minutes.
Butter, chicken broth, and red wine are three ingredients that bring the flavors together. Sweet basil hits a high note, and the cheese rind adds flavor fullness. San Marzano tomatoes, the main attraction, are thicker with fewer seeds and taste much sweeter than other tomato types. I like to mix tomato types because of the expensive price of San Marzanos, and sauce recipes work better with a variety of tomato textures. Canned tomatoes often come with basil added, but I prefer to add my own fresh sweet basil, the perfect tomato-sauce enhancer. Some cooks like to add oregano, though it can be very overpowering in a dish. This is often because cooks don’t usually buy it fresh and use way too much of the dried version for seasoning sauces or pizza and bread dishes. I find that oregano leaves a bitter aftertaste, so I do not use it in any of my tomato sauce recipes. The longer it cooks the more bitter it becomes.
Heavenly Meatballs
The meatball recipe that follows is sure to win raves from your guests and pairs well with the sauce. They are firm yet tender and very flavorful if you follow the instructions and use ground meat with the correct fat content. Be sure to remove the meat from the refrigerator up to an hour before you are going to mix the meatballs. I usually double the recipe because this one yields 14 to 18 average size meatballs, and I need more for the large quantity of sauce in the previous recipe, intended for several meals.
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 crushed garlic cloves
4 slices of dense Italian or other white bread (crust optional)
½–¾ cup heavy cream
1 cup grated parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground black pepper
2 pounds ground beef (80% lean/20% fat or 85%/15%) or 50% beef, 25% pork, 25% veal
1 beef bouillon cube, crushed
½ cup finely chopped parsley leaves, no stems
¾ cup plain breadcrumbs (seasoned if you prefer)
2 eggs, beaten
½ cup low-fat chicken broth
Cook the onion until lightly browned for 7 to 10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute. Set aside.
Spread the Italian bread slices in a large pasta-serving bowl. Pour ½ cup cream over them and allow it to soak in; add more cream if necessary. Sprinkle the parsley over the bread, and add ½ cup of the grated parmesan cheese, ¼ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon black pepper. Let sit for at least 30 minutes, until bread softens and absorbs the cream. (Your kitchen will smell heavenly.)
Tear the soaked bread in pieces using two forks. Spread ground meat on top of the bread mixture and then distribute the remaining cheese, salt, pepper, bouillon cube, and onion and garlic mixture over the meat; add the breadcrumbs and eggs and mix together with your hands, incorporating all ingredients. The mixture will be firm; add the chicken broth, and depending on mixture consistency, add the rest of the cream. Be sure the mixture is not too wet or your meatballs will fall apart. Shape into 14 to 18 oval or round meatballs. Cover a large-rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil, insert a lightly greased rack in the center, and place the meatballs on the rack. Bake in an oven at 350°F for 1 hour, until browned. Add the meatballs to your sauce, or let cool and place in freezer bags for use in other meals.
What items hold the secret to these tasty meatballs? If you said cream, parmesan cheese, parsley, the bouillon cube, chicken broth, and meat texture you are correct. Sprinkling parsley in particular over the bread adds a wonderful vibrant taste to the meatballs, though I don’t add the stems directly to tomato sauce when I’m cooking because of their potency; I recommend using it in a bouquet garni or with other seasoning combos like herbes de Provence, which you place in a net bag in the sauce but remove and discard when the dish is done. I use Italian flat-leaf parsley with its more robust flavor enhancers for the meatballs rather than curly parsley, which adds little flavor and is mainly used as a garnish.
Breakfast Pairings
Create a new taste sensation and elevate a classic breakfast dish by substituting key ingredients in favorite recipes with a couple of new pairings. The following egg recipe shows versatility.
Scrambled Eggs Three Ways
4 large eggs
3 tablespoons whole or low-fat milk
3 tablespoons heavy cream or half and half
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons butter
½ cup grated havarti cheese
Large sprig of fresh dill, finely chopped
In a medium bowl, beat eggs until fluffy. Add milk, cream, salt, and pepper and whisk again. Heat a heavy skillet on medium and melt butter. Add eggs and let them set a bit before stirring and letting uncooked eggs run against the sides. As they firm up, push them to center. Add cheese and let it melt slightly before topping with dill. Makes 3 servings.
Dill is often paired with egg dishes as well as cheese, pickles, and pickled foods. It is tangy, and both its fresh leaves and its seeds are used in cooking. I find the seeds more bitter or intense, so I use the fronds when pairing with eggs. Dill can also be paired with yogurt dishes, cucumber salads, and fish like salmon, fresh trout, or orange roughy.
One variation of this dish uses the same base recipe but substitutes sharp cheddar cheese for the havarti and ½ teaspoon finely minced chives for the dill. Another version adds ½ cup of finely chopped ham to the eggs and substitutes nutty-flavored, coarsely grated jarlsburg cheese for the havarti; garnish with thyme leaves—a pungent, slightly minty, and lemony herb. Serve with an English muffin or your favorite toast. The herb and cheese combos and the ham are the secrets to flavorful egg entrées.
Avocado on Toast
2 slices of bread
1 avocado
2 tablespoons lemon juice
¼ teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
½ teaspoon minced parsley
2 tablespoons shredded monterey jack or sharp cheddar cheese
3 arugula leaves
For a tasty breakfast treat, start with a crusty loaf of whole grain bread that has a variety of seeds on top, like sunflower, flax, or poppy seeds. Select bread that is of moderate density to enjoy the crunch in every bite of your sandwich, and toast two slices. Mash the flesh of 1 ripe avocado with a fork or avocado masher; then add 2 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice. Add salt, pepper, and minced parsley (to taste). Mix together and spread on toast, then top with 2 tablespoons of monterey jack or sharp cheddar cheese and 3 arugula leaves.
Turn this dish into a lunch by adding ½ teaspoon of finely minced onion to the avocado base before spreading on toast. Delicious!
The secret ingredients in this recipe are the bread (for texture), parsley, and peppery arugula leaves. Many shoppers buy cilantro when they are shopping for Italian flat-leaf parsley because the two herbs look similar, but their dishes do not taste the way they intended, especially if they are people for whom cilantro tastes soapy. Most chefs use parsley as a substitute for cilantro as well. The use of arugula leaves on the toast is simply to garnish, like lettuce. However, the leaves are small and tender, low in calories, and add a peppery, spicy bite to the taste. Restaurants everywhere are using it in salads, as a sandwich garnish, and in seafood and pasta dishes.
Alice DeVille recently relocated to the Tampa Bay, Florida, area and is known internationally as an astrologer, consultant, and writer. She works with clients, offering a variety of options for managing life changes. Alice prepares food from a variety of cuisines and enjoys creating new recipes, hosting parties, and organizing holiday feasts. Her work appears in diverse media outlets and websites, including Oprah .com, StarIQ.com, Astral Hearts, The Meta Arts, and sites with popular and famous quotations. Alice’s Llewellyn material on relationships appeared in Sarah Ban Breathnach’s Something More, on Oprah.com, and in Through God’s Eyes by Phil Bolsta. She is available for writing books and articles for publishers, newspapers, or magazines and conducting workshops, lectures, and radio or TV interviews. Contact Alice at DeVilleAA@aol.com or alice.deville27@gmail.com, or visit her website, www.astrologyondemand.com.
Today when I inventory my kitchen to make a grocery list, I open the spice cabinet and see a world at my fingertips—Hungarian paprika, Indonesian clove, Jamaican ginger, Indian black pepper. The worth of a good cook can be tallied, in part, by his or her spice cabinet.
It’s funny to think back on my mother’s spice cabinet. If memory serves, there was rubbed sage, a small assortment of cake spices like clove and cinnamon, and a bottle of hot sauce that was used so little it tended to separate into a muddy, red layer of pepper juice topped with a translucent layer of vinegar.
We used a fair amount of salt, but that old metal box of ground black pepper would last for months—and that was in a large family of two adults and nine kids! As small as Mama’s spice inventory was, Grandma’s was smaller. She had sugar, salt, and black pepper. The sugar was for baking. Salt went into the pot during cooking. Pepper was added, sparingly, at the dinner table. Her prized cooking ingredients were tiny bottles of flavorings for her delicious pound cakes.
She delighted in surprising us on Sundays with different flavors of this Southern classic. One week it might be peppermint. The next week it could be lemon or cinnamon. But these ingredients were metered out sparingly. Cooking extracts were expensive items, usually bought from the Rawleigh distributor, a modern-day tinker who came around periodically with suitcases full of pungent ointments, liniments, and flavored extracts. Like many in their day, my grandparents and parents made the best of what they could get. It wasn’t always as much as they liked, and sometimes they had to make do with substitutes—but they had their tricks and secrets to compensate.
The Start of a Love Affair
Throughout history, wars were fought over nutmeg. America was discovered by people seeking a shorter, easier route to exo-
tic eastern lands of spice (among other commodities). If people were able to experience exotic spices, they generally wanted more. Anything to extend the shelf life of meat or add some zest to an otherwise bland, boiled menu was certainly appreciated. Of course, there were also the real and imagined health benefits of these mysterious ingredients from far-off lands.
But these ingredients were hard to come by and expensive when sold on market shelves. Enter human ingenuity. Nature uses many of her popular flavors in multiple plants. Humans, who seem to be willing to try to eat just about anything, just kept tasting and experimenting until they figured out where those flavors were hiding.
Spice or Herb?
The words “spice” and “herb” are used interchangeably by most cooks to mean some source of seasoning added to recipes to enhance flavor. Technically, there is a difference. When we say herb, we mean the herbaceous, leafy part of the plant, used fresh or dry. Spices come from other parts of the plant and are typically dried. Spices can be bark (cinnamon), stigmas (saffron), root (ginger), or seed pods (cardamom). Sometimes, we can get both from the same plant. For example, dill gives us an herb when we use the leaf and a spice when we dry the seed.
The Search Begins
Vanilla
Consider, for example, vanilla. We get vanilla from the seed pod of the vanilla orchid from Central America and tropical areas around the Indian Ocean and the South Pacific. Europeans didn’t experience this special spice until after Cortes brought it back from the New World.
But medieval Europeans were already familiar with the flavor. They found it in the low-growing ground cover, sweet woodruff (Galium odoratum). This light green, bushy perennial is found in the forests of temperate areas around the world. It doesn’t look like vanilla. If you brush the foliage of the living plant, it certainly doesn’t smell like vanilla. However, something wonderful happens when the fresh plant is added to wine or dried and added to tea: delicate notes of vanilla come through.
Pepper
Another popular spice, black pepper, has been known for centuries. Native to India, where people cultivated the trailing vine for its seeds, pepper was once worth its weight in gold. The properly dried seed was used as legal tender. Pliny the Elder complained in his writings about the huge amount of money that flowed from the Roman Empire to India because wealthy Romans just couldn’t get enough of the spice.
Those explorers who found the New World as they searched for a new spice trade route also found red peppers. However, the fruit of capsicums (red and bell peppers) aren’t Piper nigrum (black pepper). People eagerly sought out substitutes, like the seeds of the Lepidium campestre, or field pepperweed, where they could find them. Pepperweed is in the mustard family. The dried seeds make a fine pepper substitute.
Here’s an interesting side note: you don’t have to dry or grind plant parts to lend a hint of pepper to uncooked dishes. Mustard flowers have a peppery taste, as do nasturtium (Tropaeolum majus) and some daylily blossoms. Toss them on a salad just before serving for a beautiful, spicy dish.
Capers
Around the Mediterranean Sea, capers add flavor to fish dishes, spice up salads, and give pasta a real punch. Sadly, unless you live in an area with weather and land conditions similar to Turkey or Salina, you probably can’t grow capers. You might be able to grow nasturtiums. Gardeners love nasturtiums for the cascade of rounded leaves and brightly colored, yellow, orange and scarlet flowers that deck the plant all summer long. The leaves and flowers add a peppery flavor to salads. Is it any wonder that the unripe seed pods are also peppery?
A poor man’s caper can be made by pickling nasturtium seed pods. Start with 1 cup of firm, unripe seeds. Wash them in warm water, and then pat dry. Put the seed pods in ½-pint jar. (Be sure to use a jar that withstands boiling liquid.) Some cooks top the contents with a bay leaf for added flavor.
Boil 1 cup of white vinegar with 1 teaspoon of salt and 5–8 black peppercorns for about 10 minutes. Pour the liquid over the seed pods. Cap the jar and let it cool. Then store in a refrigerator for 3 months. At that point, your poor man’s capers are ready to use.
Ginger
So many of our desirable spices come from tropical areas. Those of us living 15 degrees or more north or south of the equator are left envious of our tropical neighbors who can literally walk out the door and find or grow those aromatic plants we covet.
Consider the ginger lily, the source of that warm, pungent root that gives pumpkin pie and gingerbread houses their distinctive taste. In temperate zones, ginger has to be nursed along in a green house or a special, sunny part of the house.
Or, you could do as Native Americans did: search the woods for the root of Asarum canadense and A. caudatum—two types of wild ginger. The first is found most often on the east coast, the latter on the west. Neither is closely related to the ginger you get in the store, but both smell of ginger and will lend your dish a mild ginger flavor.
Anise
Gardeners are far more fortunate when it comes to anise (Pimpinella anisum). If you like the unique taste of the original jelly beans or chewy, black straps of licorice candy, you know anise, technically a member of the legume family. (Before we go any further, I should point out that, while anise and licorice are used interchangeably, they are two different plants—licorice is Glycyrrhiza glabra.) Like certain other spices, Pimpinella could once be used to pay off taxes. Charlemagne, in the ninth century, required the herb be grown in his royal gardens.
Of course, a major factor in the popularity of anise was its medicinal qualities. It was used to combat flatulence and to quiet indigestion. Romans thought it calmed epilepsy. Others used the seed to ward off lice. It alleviated coughs and was used as a sedative. Anise was also popular in the kitchen in cakes, candies, and syrups. No wonder people sought out plants that would provide similar taste sensations!
And, how fortunate that there are so many such plants available. In fact, you can grow an entire garden of licorice-flavored plants. Fennel (Foeniculum vulgare) is the first that comes to mind. Both the plant and seeds provide a delicate licorice flavor to recipes. Tarragon (Artemisia dracunculus) is another garden substitute for licorice or anise. The best substitute is French tarragon; Russian tarragon (A. dracunculoides) can be very unreliable in the amount of anise flavor available in the leaves. Both cicely (Myrrhis odorata) and anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum) are anise substitutes, as is chervil (Anthriscus cerefolium). You can use anise and any of these licorice-flavored substitutes very safely, but note that true licorice can cause problems when used in large amounts for long periods of time. The FDA warns, “Don’t eat large amounts of black licorice at one time. If you have been eating a lot of black licorice and have an irregular heart rhythm or muscle weakness, stop eating it immediately and contact your healthcare provider. Black licorice can interact with some medications, herbs and dietary supplements.”
Substitutes: Geraniums and Basils
Finally, let’s talk about scented geraniums (Pelargonium spp.) and basils (Ocimum spp.)—the gardener’s substitute for just about everything under the sun! Europeans found scented geraniums in southern Africa. With over two hundred varieties available, they hit the mother lode. Scented geraniums can smell like rose, pineapple, coconut, lavender, myrrh, or peach. There are citrus-scented geraniums and mint-scented geraniums. Some smell like berries (raspberry or strawberry); some smell like eucalyptus or camphor. Victorian gardeners went crazy for scented geraniums, and for good reason: an ounce of pure rose oil can cost well over $200 per ounce today, while an ounce of attar of rose, the essential oil from a scented geranium, can be had for under $15. Scented geraniums still come and go in popularity in the garden for their relative ease of growth and maintenance. In temperate zones, these geraniums are annuals. However, gardeners can and do overwinter the plants in their homes for years of enjoyment.
Basils (Ocimum basilicum) are another group of plants that give a poor gardener a break. Even the novice gardener has grown sweet or Italian basil. Basil’s range extends well beyond a flavoring for pizza. Can’t afford or find star anise? Try Thai basil to lend your dish a clove-like flavor. Don’t have a lemon tree outside your door? Grow a lemon basil plant to give a citrusy hint to your recipe.
Saffron
Over the centuries, the cost of spices rose and fell. Black pepper, once as good as gold, is now pennies per pound, but saffron (Crocus sativus) is still the most expensive spice in the world. Enter safflower (Carthamus tinctorius). To get one pound of saffron, you need to remove the stigmas from 75,000 saffron crocus blossoms. Safflower can be grown in any summer garden and produces many more flowers, which are the source of “bastard saffron.” Good cooks will insist that there is no substitute for the flavor of saffron, and they are right.
In fact, none of these garden substitutes will exactly replace their exotic spicy cousins. That’s not to say these humble alternatives aren’t worth a try—especially if you are reconnecting with the rugged ingenuity of our ancestors, who were willing to taste a lot of wild plants to find that special one that could replicate the heavenly taste of those exotic, tropical spices.
Resource
“Black Licorice: Trick or Treat?” US Food and Drug Administration. Last modified October 6, 2015. http://www.fda.gov/ForConsumers/ConsumerUpdates/ucm277152.htm.
JD Hortwort resides in North Carolina. She is an avid student of herbology and gardening. JD has written a weekly garden column for over 20 years. She is a professional and award-winning writer, journalist, and magazine editor, as well as a frequent contributor to the Llewellyn annuals. JD has been active in the local Pagan community since 2002 and is a founding member of the House of Akasha in Greensboro, NC.
When I chose to write about sage, I didn’t think I would enjoy the assignment. My first “bad herb experience” was with an obnoxiously over-flavored sage tea bread. I was seventeen and just starting to grow my own herbs. While I always kept a jar of dried sage in my cupboard, I did not grow it in my garden after that terrible tea bread. I feared the fresh stuff’s resinous flavor would always be too difficult to control.
I am glad I challenged myself. Playing around with sage allowed me the freedom to figure out how I could add this versatile herb to my culinary repertoire. From now on, there will always be a sage plant growing at my home.
Salvia officinalis, or common sage, is an evergreen subshrub. Its leaves are soft and usually a dusty gray-green. In late summer, the plant puts forth spikes of purple or blue flowers. It is part of the Lamiaceae family, along with many other familiar, aromatic herbs, such as basil, mint, rosemary, oregano, thyme, and lavender. Common sage generally grows to be about a foot high, if planted in dry, chalky soil with good drainage and plenty of sun. While a perennial, the plant seems to lose its majesty after three years or so and is best replaced. When used as a companion plant, sage is beneficial to carrots, rosemary, and members of the genus Brassica, such as broccoli and cabbage. It has a detrimental effect on cucumbers and onions, though, and the sage plant itself will actually wilt and die if it grows too closely to rue (another lesson I saw play out in that first herb garden of mine).
Also like other members of its family, sage is native to the lands bordering the Mediterranean Sea, where it has been cultivated for thousands of years. The Greeks and Romans considered it a symbol of domestic virtue and dedicated it to Zeus and Jupiter. The Egyptians used it as a fertility drug, and others swore it could bolster a failing memory. Sage is a chief export from the region of the former Yugoslavia, and the dried sage that comes from the Croatian region of Dalmatia is considered to be some of the best in the world.
As a medicine, sage seems to do it all. The French call it toute bonne, or “all good,” and its scientific name, Salvia, comes from the Latin word meaning “to save.” Its essential oils contain thujone, borneol, and phenolic acids—all with antiseptic and antibacterial qualities. Healers have consistently turned to sage to cure sore throats, night sweats, upset stomachs, and rheumatic pain. Sage also has an antispasmodic effect, and its smoke—strangely enough—has been used to ease asthma symptoms.
Sage tea (which is surprisingly sweet and comforting), as well as sage in tincture form, is also used to relieve symptoms of menopause and to dry up mother’s milk after a child is weaned. However, since sage has such an effect on the female reproductive system, it should not be used medicinally by pregnant women.
It is said that during the seventeenth century, Chinese traders were willing to exchange three cases of Camellia sinensis tea leaves for one case of dried sage leaves. During the bubonic plague, sage’s fumigatory powers were sought as part of the popular four thieves vinegar, which, when sprinkled onto a person, would protect the wearer from the disease. Many different recipes exist, but they usually contain wormwood, cloves, sage, and garlic.
In the kitchen, ancient cooks discovered that combining sage with meat helped stave off spoilage. It also aids in the digestion of fatty foods (hence its presence in many kinds of sausage), like duck, pork, and chicken. Plus, sage helps reduce flatulence when combined with beans.
Sage leaves have a strange, fuzzy, waffle-weave texture. When used in cooking, they are usually chopped fine or strained out before serving to spare guests the unpleasant sensation of trying to chew one. This texture actually gets more unpleasant after drying the leaves, and their fibrous nature makes them hard to crumble. Instead, the leaves that are sold are usually ground up or “rubbed” into a powder. You can make rubbed sage at home, too.
After drying the sage leaves, place them in a colander. You can use either a fine mesh colander or a punched hole–style colander. Place the colander over a clean plate and rub the sage leaves against the bottom of the colander with your fingers. Everything that falls through the holes of the colander is the rubbed sage. Store it in an airtight container and use within a year.
Recipes
Poultry Seasoning
This recipe just tastes “right.” Since I use the most poultry seasoning in holiday meals, like in stuffing for the turkey, or in comfort foods, like chicken and dumplings, I don’t mind that this simple recipe tastes like the kind I used to buy in the store. That’s the taste I remember from my childhood, and that’s the taste I want my children to remember, too.
4½ teaspoons dried thyme
1 tablespoon dried marjoram
2¼ teaspoons dried rosemary, crumbled
2 tablespoons rubbed sage
1½ teaspoons grated nutmeg
1½ teaspoons ground black pepper
Depending on the size of your mortar and pestle or electric grinder, grind the thyme, marjoram, and rosemary separately or all together until they are a powder. Empty the powder into a glass jar. Add the sage, nutmeg, and pepper; then seal with a tight-fitting lid. Shake vigorously to mix. Makes about ¼ cup. Use within 1 year.
Sage-Scented Beef, Cabbage, and Potato
When winter snows are blowing, I like to imagine my medieval ancestors experiencing the same type of storm while making this exact dish. Inspired by a casserole featured in a cookbook by Lidia Bastianich, this hearty, one-pan meal comes from one of the northernmost portions of Italy, Valle D’Aosta, near the border with France and Switzerland. The flavorings are simple but essential. Garlic, wine, cheese, salt, and pepper can make almost anything tasty. Of course, the sage and rosemary are there for flavor, too, but I think their inclusion was originally for their ability to make fatty foods, like the tough cut of beef featured here, more digestible.
4 garlic cloves, peeled
8 fresh sage leaves
1/8 cup fresh rosemary leaves, stripped from the branch
2 tablespoons kosher salt
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 tablespoons butter, softened
1¼ pounds red potatoes, sliced ½ inch thick
1 head green, napa, or savoy cabbage, about 1 pound, cored and sliced ½ inch thick across the grain
2 pound boneless beef chuck roast, sliced ½ inch thick
1 cup white wine
¾ pound fontina cheese, shredded
Preheat the oven to 425°F. Place the garlic cloves, sage, rose-mary, and a pinch of salt in a heap on a cutting board. Mince all the ingredients until they begin to form a paste. Scrape the mixture in a bowl or measuring cup and combine with 1/8 cup olive oil. Alternatively, you can use a food processor.
Grease a large, high-side sauté pan or roasting pan with 1 teaspoon of butter and 1 tablespoon oil. Set aside.
Place the potatoes and beef in a large bowl and add 1 teaspoon salt, 2 tablespoons oil, and 1 heaping tablespoon of the garlic mixture. Toss to coat. Pick out half the potato slices from the bowl and arrange them in the pan. Cover with half the cabbage. Sprinkle with a teaspoon of salt.
Place all the beef slices in a single layer on top of the cabbage and dot with about 2 tablespoons of butter. Set the rest of potatoes on top, and then add the remaining cabbage. Sprinkle with another teaspoon of salt. Stir the wine into the last of the garlic mixture and pour over the top of the cabbage. Dot the top with the remaining butter.
Tent the pan with foil and bake until the meat begins to fall apart and the liquid is mostly evaporated (about 2½ hours). The mixture will have sunken down into the pan significantly. Remove the foil and spread the cheese over the top. Return the pan to the oven, uncovered, and bake until the fontina begins to bubble and brown (about 15 minutes). Allow the pan to rest for about 10 minutes before serving. Serves 4.
Sage and Cannellini Bean Bruschetta
Bruschetta is one of my favorite ways to endure the summer heat when it persists into the night. While most Americans think of bruschetta as an easy way to use up tomatoes from the garden, the key ingredients are actually the bread and olive oil. Additional toppings can be just about anything. A particular favorite of mine is beans marinated with an acid and herbs.
Sage has an affinity for both beans and lemons, so this recipe works very well. I was tempted to not make the bread and just eat the beans with a spoon.
1 day-old loaf of Italian bread, cut into ½-inch slices
1 13.4 ounce can low-sodium cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
6–10 fresh sage leaves, chopped
2 garlic cloves
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
¼ teaspoon salt (or to taste)
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper (or to taste)
Preheat the oven to 400°F. Mince one garlic clove and place in a medium bowl with the lemon juice. Allow to mellow while preparing the bread.
Arrange the bread slices on a cookie sheet and toast in the oven until the bread begins to brown (about 5 minutes), but keep a close eye so they don’t burn. Once the bread is toasted to your liking, remove the pan and allow to cool slightly. When the slices can be handled comfortably but are still warm, take the remaining garlic clove and rub over the surface of the bread. Arrange the slices on a plate and drizzle with 2 tablespoons of oil.
Add the beans to the bowl with the lemon juice and garlic. Use the back of a spoon to mash about ¼ of the beans into a paste. Mix in the rest of the ingredients. Taste and adjust the seasonings. Allow the flavors to blend at room temperature for about 30 minutes.
To serve, spoon a bit of the beans onto a slice of bread and eat accompanied by a glass of white wine. Serves 4.
Scallops with Sage Butter
Every fall, I bring my potted herbs inside in an attempt to lengthen their usefulness. Unfortunately, my home’s dry winter air usually kills the plants before spring. When it looks like one of my herbs is about to take a turn for the worse, I often make a compound butter out of its remaining leaves. Using that butter to dress seared scallops is a fast and rewarding way to make a special meal.
This recipe takes the traditional, nutty-flavored brown butter sauce and adds the woodsiness of sage. When I serve scallops like this, it makes me feel like I am dining in Trieste, an Italian city on the eastern side of the Adriatic Sea, next to Slovenia. Sage grows wild there, and the dry environment makes the herb’s scent particularly strong. Scallop recipes usually suggest removing the tough side muscle. I leave it on since it still tastes like scallop, and I don’t want to waste a morsel.
For the butter:
8–10 sage leaves
1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, room temperature
Place the butter on a cutting board. Tear the sage leaves into pieces, removing any tough stem pieces, and sprinkle on top of the butter. Using a sharp knife, chop the sage into the butter until the leaves are flecks about an 1/8 inch wide. Scrape the butter mixture onto a piece of wax paper, roll it into a cylinder, and chill. Use the butter within two weeks if kept in the refrigerator. If frozen, the butter should keep for 3 months.
For the scallops:
1 pound dry-packed sea scallops
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons sage butter
3 fresh sage leaves, sliced into ribbons
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice or white wine
Remove excess water from the scallops with paper towels and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the scallops in a single layer and let cook without moving until they receive a crusty brown sear (about 3 minutes). Turn the scallops and add the butter. Allow the butter to foam and begin to brown. Monitor the heat and turn it down to prevent the butter from burning.
Once the butter has browned, bathe the scallops in it as they continue to cook. This should take an additional 3 minutes. Stir in the fresh sage leaves and lemon juice. Serve the scallops immediately with the butter sauce spooned over. Serves 4.
Cheesy Sage Muffins
I deliberately chose to make a baked good in order to assuage the damage done to me by that sage-infused tea bread. The sage flavor is prominent in this recipe but not overpowering. The sour cream and cheese add a tang and lighten the feel of the muffins. You can use any type of cheese you like. Cheddar is probably the best, but if you are going to make these with the ingredients you have on hand, even colby jack will taste fine. The muffins are best served warm and go well with soup or a roast with gravy.
1½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
½ cup whole wheat flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 tablespoon fresh sage leaves, packed tight
½ cup shredded cheese
1½ teaspoons salt
1 cup sour cream
½ cup water
3 tablespoons olive oil
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease a muffin tin with butter. Stack and roll the sage leaves. Slice the leaves into fine shreds and then chop. Measure the sour cream into a small bowl and stir in the water and oil. Set aside.
In a large bowl, mix together the flours, baking powder, sage, cheese, and salt. Add the sour cream mixture to the dry ingredients and mix gently with a spoon or spatula until the flour is just moistened. Using 2 spoons, fill the muffin tin and bake. The muffins are done when the tops begin to brown and a toothpick inserted into a muffin comes out clean (about 25 to 30 minutes).
Cool the muffins for a few minutes in the tin before running a knife around the edges to loosen. Serve immediately or cool completely on a wire rack before storing in an airtight container. Makes 12 muffins.
Anne Sala is a freelance journalist from Minnesota. Every year, her collection of potted herbs expands, and she’s happy to report her rekindled love with sage has already influenced her plans for what she will plant—and cook—next summer.
It is curious that one family of plants, the nightshades, contains both some of the world’s most poisonous plants and some of the world’s most popular foods. Potatoes, tomatoes, and peppers are all related to belladonna (deadly nightshade), jimsonweed (Datura stramonium), and mandrake. The Solanaceae family contains about 2,700 species, which also include such diverse plants as eggplant, chili peppers, and tobacco. They originated in a wide variety of places and in climates that vary dramatically: from rain forests that receive more than nine feet of rainfall annually to deserts with virtually no rainfall and to high mountains with regular snowfall and subfreezing temperatures. They may contain deadly poison, useful drugs, or intense flavor. Potatoes are the fourth largest food crop in the world, with tomatoes and peppers not far behind. Even some poisonous varieties have medicinal purposes; for example, belladonna is the source of atropine, which is used to dilate the pupils of the eyes for examination and to treat motion sickness. The term “nightshade” may have been coined because some of these plants prefer to grow in shady areas and some flower at night.
Potatoes
Potatoes were first found in the Andes in South America, where they were domesticated approximately 7,000–10,000 years ago. There are over a thousand of varieties of potatoes, and they are grown in all parts of the world. Potatoes are an easy crop to grow and adapt readily to many climates as long as the weather is cool and wet enough. Potatoes do not keep very well in storage and are vulnerable to molds. All parts of the plant except the tubers contain the toxic alkaloid solanine and are therefore unsafe to eat. Solanine is also found in other plants in the family; it’s what makes nightshade deadly, for example. Potato plants produce small green fruits that resemble green cherry tomatoes, and it may be that those poisonous fruits are what led people to think tomatoes were poisonous.
In 1845, a plant disease known as late blight, caused by a fungus-like microorganism, spread rapidly through the poorer communities of western Ireland, resulting in the crop failures that led to famine and mass migration, mostly to the United States, Canada, Australia, and Great Britain. (The influx of the Irish may be one reason there is so much Celtic Paganism in the United States today. The jack-o’-lantern is an Irish import, for example.) Potatoes are used in many ways. They are boiled, baked, mashed, fried, deep fried, or grated and made into hash browns and pancakes. Potatoes are the traditional base for making vodka in Russia.
Tomatoes
Tomatoes were thought to be poisonous by Europeans because their bright, shiny fruit resembled nightshade berries. Tomatoes are also a New World plant, native to Peru, Bolivia, and Ecuador; the name comes from the Aztec word for them, tomatl. By 500 BC, tomatoes were cultivated as far north as southern Mexico. The stems and leaves are poisonous, but the fruit is not. When people first ate tomatoes, many were still using pewter plates, which were high in lead content. Because tomatoes are so high in acidity, they would leach lead from the plate, resulting in deaths from lead poisoning. No one made this connection between plate and poison at the time; the tomato was picked as the culprit. In some parts of Italy, the fruit was used solely as a table decoration; not until the late seventeenth or early eighteenth century was the tomato eaten. The tomato was also considered inedible—though not necessarily poisonous—for many years in Britain and the United States.
It became part of the cuisine by the late eighteenth cen-tury; by then, ceramics had replaced pewter as tableware. Some people claimed the fruit had aphrodisiac powers; in French tomatoes are called pommes d’amour, or “love apples.” Tomatoes are often used raw but can be baked or broiled. The most common way to cook them is to reduce them into a sauce. Now, they are one of the most common garden plants in the United States. The species in the botanical name for tomatoes, Solanum lycopersicum, means “edible wolf peach.”
Peppers
Peppers are another nightshade. Green, yellow, orange, and red peppers, as well as all varieties of chili peppers, belong to Capsicum annuum. (The black pepper that we grind and sprinkle on food comes from a different plant that is not a nightshade—Piper nigrum.) Another New World plant, the pepper has been grown for more than nine thousand years in Central and South America. While “pepper” was the English name, the name for this food in Spanish was pimiento, which referred to all peppers, not just the ones stuffed in olives. Peppers range from very mild and sweet to incredibly hot. Mild peppers don’t contain the chemical capsaicin, which causes the burning sensation of chili peppers. The spice paprika comes from a mild- to medium-heat pepper (also Capsicum annuum). The amount of capsaicin in hot peppers is quite diverse and is measured in Scoville heat units. A yellow banana pepper is 100 or so on the scale, a jalepeño around 1000, and cayenne pepper around 30,000. The hottest pepper known, the Carolina Reaper, is around 1,600,000 or more.
Eggplant
When Europeans first encountered another member of the nightshade family, the eggplant, or aubergine, they gave it an intimidating reputation. They called it mala insana—“mad apple.” Originally, many types of eggplants were white or yellow and smaller than the purple ones we find in stores today, hence the name. One of the few edible nightshades known to Europeans before the fifteenth century, eggplant is not of New World origin like potatoes, tomatoes, and peppers. Historians believe the eggplant may have its origins in India; early accounts from a fifth-century Chinese record on agriculture suggest its cultivation in China as well. For centuries after its introduction into Europe, eggplant was used more as a decorative garden plant than as a food. Not until new varieties were developed in the eighteenth century were eggplants grown primarily to be eaten. Immature eggplants contain toxins, as do the stems and leaves. They are also sometimes bitter, which is why some recipes suggest they be sliced, salted, left to stand for a half hour to an hour, and then rinsed to remove the salt before using. Like tomatoes, they are technically a fruit—a berry. When cutting an eggplant, use a stainless steel knife; a carbon steel knife will react with it and turn black. Eggplant is sometimes used as a meat substitute, as in eggplant parmesan.
Tobacco
Tobacco is also a nightshade. While smoked and used for snuff as powdered leaves, it is poisonous. Nicotine, tobacco’s principle active chemical, has been used as an insecticide. Other nightshades, even ones we eat, contain small amounts of nicotine: twenty pounds of eggplant contain about as much as a cigarette. A number of ornamental plants and flowers also belong to the nightshade family, including petunias.
Nightshade Recipes
The edible nightshades have increased the supply of food for humankind and added so much to the variety of cuisines. Can you imagine a world without pizza, salsa, or chili? Without, potato chips, french fries, or mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving? If we didn’t have the nightshades, these dishes and many others would not exist.
Nightshade Salad
For the salad:
1½ pounds red potatoes
1 green pepper, chopped
2 tablespoons fresh basil, chopped
1 small red onion, chopped
For the dressing:
¼ cup vinegar
2 tablespoons brown mustard
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and black pepper to taste
Place the potatoes in a large pot and fill with about 1 inch of water. Bring to a boil, and cook until potatoes are tender. Drain, cool, and cut potatoes into quarters. Transfer to a large bowl and toss with green pepper, fresh basil, red onion, and salt and pepper. Set aside.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the vinegar, mustard, lemon juice, and olive oil. Pour over the salad, and stir to coat. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serves 4.
Ratatouille
1 eggplant, about 1–1¼ pounds
2–3 tomatoes
1 pound of zucchini, yellow summer squash, or a combination of both
3 small onions (or 1 large)
2 green peppers or 1 green and 1 red, yellow, or orange
½ cup olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon thyme
1 teaspoon marjoram
Salt and pepper to taste
Peel eggplant; cut into bite-sized pieces (1-inch cubes). Cut tomatoes, zucchini, and onion in similarly sized pieces. Remove seeds and membrane from green pepper and cut into 1-inch squares.
Brown onions and peppers in 2 tablespoons of oil. Remove them to a separate dish, then brown the eggplant and zucchini, adding oil 1 tablespoon at a time as needed. Then briefly cook the tomatoes with the garlic. Once all have been browned, combine them together into 1 pan; add herbs and salt and pepper; and continue to cook slowly, covered, for about 10 minutes or until all are tender. Serves 4.
Gazpacho
6 cups tomato juice (1 46-ounce can)
3 tablespoons lemon or lime juice
1–3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon soy sauce (optional—some brands of canned tomato juice are very salty)
2–3 cloves garlic, finely minced or pressed through a garlic press
1 cucumber, finely chopped or shredded
1 cup carrots, shredded
1 cup celery, finely chopped
1 green pepper, finely chopped or shredded
¼ cup green onion or chives, chopped
2 large tomatoes, chopped
Combine liquids; mix until blended. Add vegetables. Chill overnight or for at least a few hours. Serves 4. Feel free to experiment with how coarsely or finely you chop or shred vegetables. A food processor will make this easier but will turn it into a puree, rather than a liquid salad.
Magenta Griffith has been a Witch since the 1970s and a high priestess for more than twenty-five years. She is a founding member of Prodea, which has been celebrating rituals since 1980, and is a founding member of the Northern Dawn Council of Covenant of the Goddess. Magenta, along with her coven brother Steven Posch, is the author of The Prodea Cookbook: Good Food and Traditions from Paganistan’s Oldest Coven. She presents classes and workshops at a variety of events around the Midwest. She shares her home with a small black cat and a large collection of books.