Introduction

elcome to the wild and weedy apothecary, a place where herbs hang in bunches from the rafters, potions brew in glass jars on the medicine hutch, and there’s always time for a cup of fragrant tea. I invite you to pull up a chair, savor a steaming bowl of soup, and enjoy your visit.

I have pursued an empirical education in herbal healing for over thirty years, especially home remedies, with emphasis on local wild plants and those plants I can grow myself. In the late 1980s, I self-published a small—what I call “kitchen table”—magazine called Wild & Weedy—A Journal of Herbology. Originally typed on an old manual typewriter, my dear baby of a chapbook took root and blossomed.

It was a terrific learning experience for me. Feature articles included the study of wild plants for food and medicine, organic gardening, seasonal celebrations, prose and poetry, and always recipes and remedies, some of which were gleaned from other herb books or given to me by generous mothers and homemakers—the original herbalists—desiring to share this information. Many of us could see that these “old ways” were valid, and we wanted to pass them on to the next generation. I also thought it was important to write about what I had personally experienced with each plant.

I also traded subscriptions with other magazines, which was quite a bonus. Even though W & W had a small circulation, I received inquiries from people all over the world—from the director of an indigenous plant studies program in Brazil to native plant growers in Poland, from the Friends of the Trees Society in north central Washington to the University of Idaho. W & W was even included in Some ’Zines, an exhibit of small and “underground” publications displayed at Boise State University in 1992. Many people were willing to share information, and I was constantly amazed at how my little journal got around.

In between the magazine and continuing personal studies, I taught classes for making herbal body products such as salves and lotions, and I sold these along with fresh herbs and herbal seasoning blends at farmer’s markets and barter fairs. I started taking folks out on guided “weed walks” for plant identification, either on their property or on forest trails. This was a real challenge for me, as I am much more comfortable at the stove or computer keyboard than leading the pack! Although I have never taken a formal course in herbalism, I have participated in many a bull session in the herb garden as well as the forest with the women and men who helped round out my book learnin’ with some useful, practical knowledge. Class is always in session.

Enter the kitchen. There is a certainty in my family that, even when the fridge is empty and the cupboard bare, I can not only make a meal, I can make it taste like I had all the ingredients in the world to choose from. It’s comments like that which encourage my culinary self-confidence, and I constantly broaden my tastes and curiosity. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not a fancy-pants chef creating three-story condos on a dessert plate, but I do consider myself an excellent cook, with a passion for good, wholesome, flavorful food. When I cook, I like to imagine that the soul is satisfied too. As aromas fill the air with anticipation, I consider it a blessing to be skilled at preparing delicious food. My family and friends appreciate it too. The following story is a case in point.

Many years ago, my brother came up from Florida to visit my mountain home in Idaho. Recalling my previous cooking ability, he asked, “Do you still burn water?”—at which point I proceeded to knock everyone’s socks off with a complete fried chicken dinner—you know, the coronary feast including mashed taters’n’gravy, sweet corn, biscuits, wild green salad, and so on, followed by a wild (yes, wild) strawberry shortcake, with berries my daughter helped pick. Did I mention that I prepared this meal on a wood stove? We didn’t have electricity “up there” at the time, and I believe this was a major turning point in my culinary prowess; I even impressed myself!

The Great Chicken Dinner is just one of the stories that have emerged from the wild and weedy apothecary. In this book, I have used my favorite recipes and remedies from the journal and rounded them out with an A to Z of healthy, helpful ideas that I trust you will find appealing as well as informative. My intention isn’t merely to instruct—and I promise to be as clear as consommé concerning home remedies and wild plants. But because I enjoy gardening and the great outdoors, I also hope to share the delight I feel when I brush my hand through the lemon thyme or pick the ingredients for a snappy salsa fresh from the garden. I want you to know what it smells like in the spring forest, and I hope to inspire you to find out for yourself. Here, you’ll find a celebration of the wild, get your toes wet on seasonal garden tours, and catch a glimpse into my culinary family album. You’ll also observe the influence of friends and ideas past and present. I share the basic techniques I use in the wild and weedy apothecary, along with my version of a well-stocked pantry and “medicine cabinet.” Some of the items are in both places; some of the ideas will surprise you.

I follow a basic preventative approach to health by eating good- quality food and using herbs for seasoning. My emphasis on what to eat is based on whole, wild, homegrown, handmade, and delicious foods. As a kid in the 1960s, I certainly consumed my share of Kool-Aid and tuna casserole (and I’m not opposed to a bacon cheeseburger now and then), but growing up I was also exposed to no small variety of homey, ethnic dishes such as my Polish gramma’s apricot kolachkes, my Italian gramma’s spaghetti gravy with stuffed calamari, and my dad’s Lebanese tradition of roast turkey stuffed with rice, pine nuts, and cinnamon (where do you think a name like Shababy came from?). My mom knew where to find Chicago’s best barbecue ribs, and she was no stranger to the hook-and-worm end of a fishing pole. Each summer, we grew a small vegetable garden in our little backyard, with tomatoes, bell peppers, beans, cucumbers, and sweet corn—ohhh, that Illinois sweet corn. We lived as an extended family, like people used to do, and from there I observed my Gramma Lil’s green thumb tending her perennial flowers and rose garden out front in addition to the veggies out back. When we moved to Idaho, wild plants (and the music of John Denver!) became my best friends. It was easy to lose myself in the sights and sounds of the forest and meadows that surrounded me, observing the plants and animals around my new home. I wanted to know all about them, and now I want to share some of what I’ve learned with you.

This book emphasizes our collective experience with herbs and what they can do for you. While there are plenty of fun recipes to cook and share with family and friends, The Wild & Weedy Apothecary is primarily an herbal. Full instructions are included on how to make all the home remedies you might need for common use—calming syrups for coughs and colds, cooling compresses for bumps and bruises, soothing elixirs for rest and relaxation. The cooking instructions have been carefully worked out for clarity and ease. I have included an extensive bibliography for further reference.

However, there is no one right way to read and use The Wild & Weedy Apothecary. You can open the book to any chapter you wish and find something useful and interesting. And because this herbal is also about food, you could go to the list of recipes by category on page 335 and see what inspires you. I want you to have fun on your visit, and at the same time, I hope to impart information that is of practical use to you.

I’m still working to grow all my own herbs, with nasturtiums galore and enough basil to make freezer pesto. Each year’s batch of homemade salsa tastes a little different from the last, with names like golden cha-cha sauce and tomato sunrise (yes, I name my food). I like a good sharp knife and stacks of wooden plates, bowls, and spoons. When I cook, I fling food like a Cuisinart gone berserk; my stove is a disaster area. I sneak in dried nettles wherever I can get away with it, including my dogs’ food. I also make and take my own remedies.

Once you step into The Wild & Weedy Apothecary, I believe you’ll want to visit again. May you find comfort in the familiar and excitement in the new.

Love, peace, and blessings,

oreen Shababy

Spring 2009