Eating Violets

I wanted to call this post eating violetly... but was concerned that it may be misread, and as it turns out, there is nothing violent about the eating of violets... unless you have to wrest them from your little-old-lady neighbour (we have an almost shared front yard and 'differing opinions' on flowers as food). 'Nuff said. 

*Disclaimer: no LOL's were harmed during this taste test.  

Moving around the world of food and learning to be open to the reality of the nourishment around me brings new and unusual additions everyday. It's a great adventure that leads to some astonishing discoveries- and plenty of questions. And the one I constantly find myself asking is 'what the hell happened to our food?'- why, in a time so fraught with ecological questions and food sustainability issues, do we insist on shrinking the variety of the things we call 'edible'? 

 

Researching and taste-testing violets brought me up against a whole range of resistance to eating the leaves. From the 'garden flowers aren't food' argument, to the 'it didn't come from the supermarket' kind, I was surprised at the confused responses to this perfectly edible plant.

After all, everyone knows you can eat sugared violet flowers... but the leaves... really? The answer: Yes. Really.

Historically they have been used for everything from treating cancer to aiding weight-loss, but somewhere along the way we forgot that they were also a nutritious addition to the diet.

 Violets are high in iron, calcium and (as with any wild plant) anti-oxidants. Both the leaves and flowers of white, purple and blue violets are edible (yellow violets are not edible) and they make a tasty and pretty addition to salads, but are equally delicious on their own. Another great chance for some variety in your greens. 

The flowers have a strong violet-y flavour when their perfume hits your palate and it's a surprisingly appealing taste sensation. The leaves are a little peppery and cause a slight tingle on your tongue. 

For dinner, they make a great side salad of fresh baby leaves, any flowers on the bush and a bit of light dressing (olive oil, lemon and salt work well). But they are even better tossed through seasonal greens for a bit of an unusual lift.

So just as long as I can keep sneaking past the LOL next door, I'll get my fix of salad violets and keep my salads pretty.

*Note: as with any plant you intend to eat from your garden, it is essential that you positively identify it as the species and variety that you are after before you attempt to eat it and always wash it thoroughly. 

In a Mallow Mood

In my ongoing attempts to appreciate the 'bounty all around me'- today I had a go at yet another 'edible weed'- Mallow.

I think it's worth pointing out at this moment that 'weed' is a relative term- and whilst it can be applied to heavily seeding, fast growing items, it's more often than not applied to plants that are simply growing where we don't want them to. Making the common definition of a weed just 'a plant out of place'.

In this respect, I am beginning to look at weeds in a new light, and in fact not classing them as weeds at all anymore. I understand that you can't eat them all, but that doesnt' stop them being useful in ways that we are not aware of, and it certainly encourages me to weed my garden more selectively.  

So after the success of the chickweed dinner, here is the taste test of Mallow.

I found this recipe at the lovely blog: Veggie Way and the original recipe can be found here, but as the original comes from a beautiful vegetarian website, the recipe below has some minor alterations, including the addition of chicken stock. 

Most importantly, you need to be able to identify mallow and then test it to make sure it doesn't make you nauseaus- as with any foraged food that you are dealing with for the first time.

Mallow-carrot rice

Ingredients:

• a freshly picked bunch of mallow, leaves removed from stalks- if you forage for them, make sure you trust the area you are picking from and that they have not bee sprayed with weed killer etc.
  
• 2 radishes, tops and all, diced and chopped
• 1 large brown onion, peeled and diced
  
• 2 carrots, peeled and chopped
  
• 1/4 cup of rice, washed and drained
  
• 1/2 cup of chicken or veg stock
  
• 2 tbs tomato paste
  
• 2 tbs olive oil
  
• salt,pepper to taste
  
• Squeeze of lemon juice to finish

Method:

Wash the Mallow leaves thoroughly. Heat the oil in a heavy based saucepan and sauté the onion until golden. Add the carrots to the pan and saute for about 5 minutes. Add the radish to the pan and then add tomato paste and stir into the mixture. Add the chopped mallows, rice, salt, pepper and chicken stock. Cover and cook on low heat until the rice is tender enough- about half an hour. Serve with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.

Mallow dosen't appear to be terribly flavourful on it's own, more like a green filler. But there is plenty of it around, so it's a great way to cut food miles, costs and fill up- if that's what you're looking for. For me? I'm just interested in knowing more about the food around me. It seems a willful and ignorant thing not to take an interest. Stay tuned for more weed eating adventures and recipes to come.

*Note: we are hail and hearty after eating Mallow and the dish was so tasty, we'll be making it again. 

 

Chickweed & lentils

I have been gripped by the foraging bug. And having just discovered that my garden supports a very healthy colony of edible chickweed, I'm giving it a go. It took a bit of persuading to get my other half (let's call him Patience) in on the racket. But here's how we introduced edible weeds to our diet. 

Lentil, Radish and Chickweed salad:

Ingredients:

• 1 cup puy/french lentils cooked as per packet, drained and rinsed- but still warm.
  
• large bunch of chickweed freshly pulled from your garden (or anywhere else you trust enough to forage from), washed and torn up.
  
• 4 radishes, tops and all (ours came straight from the vege patch), root minced and leaves shredded. 
  
• 1/2 a brown onion
• Salt/Pepper/Lemon/Olive oil to dress

Method:

Cook lentils as per packet instructions. While the lentils are still warm, heat a drizzle of olive oil in a frypan and toss all ingredients together to wilt the greens. Season with dressing items to taste. Serve with boiled baby potato's or crusty bread for a filling, fresh and nutrient rich dinner. The more recently the items are pulled from the garden the better, you want to capture all those nutrients and antioxidants while you can.

*NOTE: With any garden or foraged item (as with anything you plan to eat), it is essential that you are 100% sure of what you are eating and that it has been thoroughly washed. 

It was just delicious! So much so that I went back for seconds. The chickweed adds a different and very earthy flavour to the mix.

Society note: I have to say that right now I am a little confused and incredulous. History says that native/wild/foraged

 foods sustained the Aboriginal communities of Australia for over 60,000 years- and yet current reports say that in remote and outback communities where food costs have more impact, individuals are eating nutrient poor, prepackaged, sugar rich foods more than ever. Surely in the face of 'food security concerns' a better understanding of native/bush/foraged foods is essential for Australian's from an early age? Why is this food knowledge not being passed on? Where other cultures embrace their foraging traditions, what are we in Australia so afraid of? I'm just keeping an eye out for more chickweed and now Murnong... so that when I can no longer afford groceries thanks to the GFC, at least I won't be reduced to a diet of sugar.

Foraging- from weeds to seeds

My garden is greener than it's been for a long time. It's a beautiful thing to see. Chubby, tender shoots sprout everywhere. It's a verdant carpet covering damp, chocolate-brown earth. 

I kneel down in front of it all and then, start hacking away- because it's all gotta come out! You see it might look pretty, but it's weeds. That's right, the garden is green, but it's not green with anything useful... apparently. 

Milk weeds, dandelions, other things I can't name- I hack, I pull, I twist- I rip it all out. 

1/2 an hour later I'm hot and sweaty, covered in sap and only about 1/8 of the way through. I turn around and survey the damage- a huge, lush pile of leaves with roots pointing oddly at the sky. They look at little mournful- and I am suddenly overwhelmed with a huge sense of waste. This pile of leaves looks so promising, so vibrant- I could swear they would be crunchy and probably a little peppery too.

 I suddenly wish that I knew more- more about what I was ripping up and more about weather or not they were edible. What if I was throwing away a perfectly good salad? It sure looked like one? And besides, isn't foraging the 'new black' when it comes to eating local?

My recent mushroom trip must have inspired me. I didn't necessarily trust myself to eat what I'd dug up, but it did inspire me to start looking into what was about to make intimate friends with the compost bin. So I grabbed 'Wild Food Plants of Australia' by the renowned Tim Low and began thumbing the pages, looking to see if perhaps that really was a garden salad on my lawn.

Judging by the pretty definitive pictures in my field guide, here's a couple of the things that I think were mixed into my grass greens:

* Common Sowthistle- tastes like endive acc. to Low.

* Yellow Wood Sorrel- a bit like clover (the little buggers), makes good 'tarts' and salad.

* Yam Daisy, Murnong, or native dandelion- the root is good for stewing, tasty but not too high in vitamins.

To my disappointment I am not growing any chocolate lilies, grass potato or quandongs...   

Still, if the GFC gets really tough- I know that I won't starve. I may not be living in style, but i'll still be able to have you all over for dinner. 

NOTE: I am NOT encouraging you to eat things you think you have identified in your garden- but I am hoping that you might take a healthy interest in thinking beyond the square when it comes to food... I haven't quite got a pot of nettles stewing on the stove... yet.

For now, I better head back to the organic, heritage, grown-from-seed vegie patch, where at least I know what the radishes look like.