Herbal Health

Many herbs grow well from cuttings, too. Take them in the post-flowering period if possible, or if you are not letting your herbs flower (in order to get the best fragrance and flavour), take cuttings after the new growth of the spring has hardened off a bit, otherwise they may wilt and not strike. Late summer is often best of all, as the stems are now strong and more woody, and cuttings taken with a “heel” of old wood at the base have every chance of striking.

I prefer to use the same seed-box soil mixture for striking cuttings. I have found that the sand medium often recommended is not so satisfactory for herbs, and the added nutriment in the richer mixture has no harmful effect on tender new herb roots. In fact, cuttings strike so well that they then suffer very little acclimatization worries when transferred to similar soil in the open garden, window box or pot. Put the cuttings fairly close together round the outside edge of a large terracotta pot, and water them sufficiently to keep the soil moist. A mist-sprayer or small atomizer is useful, too, to keep the foliage damp during the day. Each time you pass the cutting pot, have the spray handy, as tests have proved that cuttings root better if their foliage is kept slightly moist.

You can tell when your cuttings have rooted and are strong enough to transplant by observing their leaf growth. You will have stripped most of the old leaves off when first planting them, and perhaps nipped off the top shoot as well. When new leaves are growing strongly, you can be sure your cutting is alive. Leave it a week or two longer, then transplant to its new home. Unless these new leaves are formed, the cutting has not taken root, and is not viable.

Almost all herbs grow well from cuttings, with the exception of clump-forming ones like borage, comfrey, dandelion, lemongrass and horseradish.

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Artemisia dracunculus COMPOSITAE

French tarragon-is an almost purely culinary herb, having very little folk-lore or tradition behind it. Its bitter-sweet delicate flavour seems to typify the essence of French cuisine, although the plant was originally taken from Russian stock. Russian tarragon is reputed to be hardier and more vigorous and to have a stronger taste; but my own experience with French tarragon has proved to me that time spent in preparation of a good home for it in open sunshine can see it grow so abundantly as to rival its Russian parent in size without any loss of flavour delicacy. Experimenting with French tarragon, I put one small plant in early spring in a deeply dug bed, with blood and bone well under its roots and a soil rich in natural compost, in full open sunshine, and gave it plenty of water in the early settling-in period. Before the end of the summer, the bush was 2 feet high and 4 feet across, and some fifty-odd new plants had been dug and potted out from around its base. So I smile when told that French tarragon grows small and weedy.

In another part of the garden, in the partial shade of shrubs, but in otherwise similar conditions, I then planted a second tarragon. Sure enough, it grew thin and straggly as the books had foretold. It seems that in warmer climates tarragon can have, and indeed should have, the open sunshine not recommended for it in English and Continental conditions. I have since proved to my own satisfaction that this is so. Tarragon should be in your sunniest herb bed, with room to cascade sideways if it wishes. Leave an area about four feet across when setting it out in the garden. With well-fed soil, it should fill this space before the end of one growing season.

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Here is an eighteenth-century French recipe that will taste just as delectable with the stronger oregano or the milder marjoram:

Marinaded Veal Chops

Slice a pocket in veal chops, and insert an anchovy fdlet in each one. Make a marinade of equal parts of oil and vinegar, to which a crushed garlic clove and crushed fresh oregano has been added. Steep the meat in this marinade for at least 2 hours, turning once. Remove, and blot dry. Then brown the chops in oil or butter and transfer them to a casserole. Add i cup of dry white wine, a few drops of lemon juice, shallots and parsley, and cover tightly. Bake in a moderate oven for 30 minutes, or till tender. Cream can be substituted for the wine for a variation.

If you are a cole-slaw addict as I am, try this “hot-slaw” in the winter time for a change.

Hot Herb Slaw

Shred half a cabbage. Melt two tablespoons of butter in a large heavy pan, and fry the cabbage for several minutes, stirring to prevent its sticking, then add a half-cup of water, sprigs of basil, dill and oregano to taste. Mix through, simmer several minutes then stir in f cup of yoghurt. Heat again quickly and serve.

Does your hair come out in handfuls on the brush or comb? Make a strong infusion of marjoram: 2 handfuls of the fresh herb in a cup of water, and simmer gently for a few minutes, then let stand till lukewarm. Rub this solution well into the scalp after washing and rinsing the hair, and gently pat dry. It conditions and strengthens the hair as well.

Marjoram oil can be rubbed into joints and sinews if they start to stiffen or cramp after heavy exercise, particularly in the cold weather. You can make your own quite easily. And if you get a toothache right in the middle of Christmas dinner, chew leaves of marjoram over the spot to deaden the ache until you can rouse out your dentist. Marjoram used regularly in the diet helps to ward off stomach upsets and acts through the bloodstream as an internal antiseptic against those tummy “wogs”.

Altogether, a happy and rejoiceful herb.

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The roots of the dandelion, dug in the second year of growth, can be roasted and used instead of coffee. Dig up the whole plant in the autumn. Cut off the leaves, and use in salads, or put through the juicer, or add to the compost heap where they are very welcome. Then wash and dry the large tap roots (rubbing off the small hair rootlets), and dry in a cool oven till quite brittle. Roast them to a light brown when needed and grind as coffee. One or two teaspoons brews a cup of pleasant flavour, which has none of the bad effects that over-indulgence in strong coffee can produce.

Another apt name for the dandelion came also from France, where pisse-en-lit was the unhappy outcome of a child’s occasional gorging on dandelion leaves and flowers. Our “Wet-the-beds” has remained to damage the dandelion’s reputation, and its more valuable qualities have been overlooked.

The commercial uses of dandelions have not yet been fully explored, but it has been found that the plants breathe out ethylene gas. This would seem to justify the gardener’s criticism of dandelions as a pest, because ethylene inhibits the growth and height of nearby plants. However, ethylene is used extensively now in artificial ripening of fruit, so some canny orchardists are putting Nature to work for them by scattering dandelion seeds under their fruit-trees. The ethylene given off can aid in the early ripening of the crop.

That most concentrated and balanced food plant, alfalfa, has a natural affinity for dandelions, and if the yellow sunny buttons and “four o’clocks” are found growing in a field, it is certain that alfalfa will grow there to perfection.

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Bergamot has a natural affinity for pork dishes, and this recipe is a traditional early North American one.

4 thick pork chops, fat removed

2 teaspoons chopped bergamot Oil, salt, pepper

1\4 pint cider

Chopped gherkins, capers

Use a small sharp knife and score small slits in the chops on each side. Mix enough oil with the salt and pepper and chopped bergamot to make a paste, and rub into the slits in the meat. Leave for one hour. Then put chops under grill, and cook about 10 minutes each side under moderate heat, saving all the juices from the grill pan. Remove to shallow oven-proof dish. Pour the cider and juices over the chops, sprinkle top with chopped gherkins and capers, and brown for 5 minutes in a moderately hot oven. Serve with grilled pineapple or apple rings.

Bergamot can be propagated by root division after the first year, the clump divided in early spring as soon as the first leaves show. In any case, it should be dug up every three or four years, thinned out and replanted.

An orange salad can be given a piquant lift using freshly picked bergamot leaves. Peel and remove all the pith from the oranges, cut in neat wedges and pile in a small bowl, placing lightly bruised bergamot leaves in among the orange segments. Leave for an hour, then serve on a bed of lettuce with chopped bergamot leaves sprinkled over the top. The salad can be lightly dressed with apricot-kernel oil, or any bland salad oil, if you wish.

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