April 2, 1982

Ode To The Dandelion

The Chem Lawn Company hates me, but I am sure Mama Lindsey looks down from her throne in heaven to smile on her grandson who still observes the old rites of spring.

Mama was a "herb granny" down in Arkansas where such celebrities were considered angels of mercy and repositories of ancient wisdom.  To her, spring was a time to purify the blood and lay a foundation for good health.

I loved her dearly because she always called me "Sonny" and taught me how to distinguish "cure plants" from noxious weeds.  Unfortunately she died before I became proficient in her art.  Yet, spring awakens in me the same deep appreciation for the gifts of Mother Nature.

The folks of my youth in the rural South put great store in "spring tonics."  Mama Lindsey knew at least a hundred plants that would make blood-thinning pepper-upper teas.  The most popular concoction was sulphur, molasses and cream of tartar.  Not only would it "clear winter glood," whatever that was, but it was purported to be good for rheumatism.

My favorite spring tonic, however, was sassafras tea - or maybe a sip of "root beer" made of sassafras root pounded to a pulp and fermented with yeast, water, sugar and shelled corn.  I got only a spoonful at a time.  Grownups got a cupful and seemed to perk up marvelously in only a few minutes.

Sassafras was a versatile herb.  In addition to being pleasant to drink, Mama Lindsey prescribed it to sweat out fevers, settle upset stomachs and erase dysentery.  "Drink sassafras for the month of April and you won't need a doctor for the rest of the year," she said.

How well I remember our walks down country lanes in the spring looking for "sallets" of poke berry, mustard greens, lambs quarters or the many other green growing things with nutritional or medicinal benefit.

In those days, folks suffered from vitamin C deficiency during the winter months for lack of fresh fruit and vegetables.  By spring the craving for something fresh and green was overpowering.  How eagerly the family would welcome my grandmother and me when we came back from our first walk of spring with a sack full of collard greens.

In the early spring, nearly every growing thing was edible and delicious.  As time wore on, however, the taste of most wild plants we enjoyed early grew bitter and even poisonous.

Dandelions were all-purpose plants.  The entire plant is edible, which is why the English colonists brought it with them and cultivated it carefully.  They didn't keep velvet lawns.

Dandelion leaves are rich in vitamin C and iron.  When young they can be eaten raw in a salad.  I prefer "wilted salad" of dandelion greens mixed with chopped green onion and bacon bits then doused with a little vinegar and hot bacon drippings.

The basic recipe for all wild greens is simply to boil the tender leaves, drain, then stir-fry briefly in an iron skillet with fried salt pork and a teaspoon of vinegar.  When topped with sliced hard-boiled eggs you have a dish for gourmets.

Another delicious dish is dandelion-bud omelet.  Gather dandelion buds before the flower color shows, about one cup for four eggs.  Fry the buds in a dab of butter until they pop.  Fold in with the beater eggs and cook slowly into an omelet.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Top with raw leaves, finely cut.  Serve with ham, biscuits and "red eye" skillet gravy.  Great for Sunday morning brunch.

A variation is dandelion-bud salad.  Gather unopened buds ant new leaves.  Wash and pat dry.  Fry two strips of bacon, then stir buds in hot bacon grease until they open.  Drain.  Mix with leaves and bacon bits.  Add three tablespoons of salad oil and vinegar.  Salt and pepper to taste.  Finally mix in diced tomato and/or cooked lima beans.

Mama Lindsey made "green tonic" from boiled dandelion and chickweed leaves, mashed through a sieve and flavored with vinegar.

When coffee was scarce, dandelion roots could be peeled, roasted until dark brown and then ground up and boiled.

But, here's the prize - dandelion wine.  Pour one gallon boiling water over one gallon dandelion flowers.  Let stand until blossoms rise, generally in one or two days.  Strain into a crock or glass jug.  Add juices of four lemons and four oranges.  Stir in four pounds of sugar and one cube of yeast.  Stir four or five times a day until it stops fermenting.  Keep well covered.  Ready to drink or bottle in two weeks.

I can not leave this ode to spring-things good to eat without passing along recipes for Mama Lindsey's famous "wild soups."

My favorite is milkweed "pot likker."  Gather shoots and pods while young and tender, never in July or thereafter.  Wash.  Cut pods and leaves into small pieces.  Cook and drain.  Add fresh water, rice, salt and chopped green onions.  Boil with a ham bone.

Another tasty soup is made from nettles and is said to cure scurvy, treat gout and ease mosquito bites.  Gather plants in early spring using leather gloves.  Cook a long time to destroy the stinging hairs.  Strain through a sieve.  Add milk, pepper and chopped onion.  Thicken with butter, flour and two egg yolks.

My wild lawn furnishes all the ingredients so far discussed - plus johnny-jump-up violets (good for tea, salad and a mild sedative for sleep), shepherd's purse (good for a fish sauce and to stop nosebleeds), and murdock (good for spring salads and as a poultice for boils.)

My neighbors get up a petition about me every spring, but I don't care.

A little dandelion wine puts everything in perspective.

Author: Lindsey Williams