Urban Forager | Dandelion Wine? No, Jelly
View PDF | Print View
by: Guest
Total views: 205 Word Count: 928
Last week's sudden 90-degree spell spurred a pageant of early flowering across the five boroughs that went far beyond the usual spring bulbs - see the magnolias, cherry blossoms and dogwoods in fervent bloom - but perhaps none more prominent than the ubiquitous yellow blossom that gardeners love to hate: the common dandelion.
I've eaten dandelion leaves when they're young and tender in the early spring and fall as a salad green and a saut But I was inspired to try my hand at dandelion preserves after meeting a young woman last month at a jam-making event in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, and she mentioned making dandelion jelly with her grandmother in Russia.
Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale), aka lion's tooth, puffball or blowball, is so prevalent across the country, thriving on lawns, fields and college campuses, that most urbanites can readily identify it from its toothed leaves, bright yellow flower and seedy puffball. It's the weediest of the weeds and probably the most sustainable, inspiring vitriol from gardeners and general contempt from city passers-by.
But historically, dandelions have been a valuable food and medicinal source in Europe and Asia, and even here in Native American traditions. The long tooth-shaped leaves (whence the Frenchified "dent de lion," or lion's tooth) are high in vitamins A, B complex and C, as well as iron, potassium and zinc. The entire plant, especially the root, is used in herbal communities as a supreme liver and kidney support (inspiring many jokes about taking it before and after a hangover). In French, dandelion is "pissenlit," referring to its actions as a diuretic, and in Chinese medicine, it's used for appetite and digestive disorders.
The foraging forefather Euell Gibbons, in "Stalking the Wild Asparagus," rages at length about how Americans have turned against the dandelion, seeing it only as a lawn pest. He called Taraxacum officinale a "herbal hero" and advocated for its place on the kitchen table.
To make even a cup of dandelion preserves requires masses of blossoms, so bring a friend along to help gather them, and always forage from a place you know to be relatively uncontaminated - perhaps your own backyard or that of neighbors happy to have you weed theirs out. Select the dandelions with the largest heads and pluck where the blossom meets the stem.
After gathering more than 200 dandelion blossoms, I went onto my roof with a paring knife and cutting board and began separating the flowers from the green, leafy bracts, which hold the petals together and are too bitter for the ordinary jam-lover's palate.
I quickly learned that just like making acorn meal as I did last fall, preparing dandelion flowers is a real exercise in slow food. Even with the nimblest fingers, it's tough work, and I thought of the woman from jam class and her grandmother, and how I wished mine were around to instruct me as I picked out the tiny leaves from the fine, pollen-flecked petals, praying they wouldn't spark an allergy attack.
I was just starting to feel sorry for myself when I tugged at the end of the row of green leaves holding a flower together and suddenly the feathery tufts of petals expanded, pushing out the leaves. The whole thing uncoiled in my hands.
It was a bit of a Zen-like revelation, and I thought of martial-arts films where the novice learns to use his opponent's body weight in his favor: The blossom wanted to unfurl, just as later in the season, its seed-bearing parachutes would expand and disperse in the wind.
A half-hour later, I had a cup's worth of the flaxen petals, soft as the down of a baby chick. Now, I'm more of a jam than a jelly girl, but the petals had too much fuzzy-mouth feel, so after boiling them for 10 minutes, which made my apartment smell like a cut lawn, I poured the liquid into another pot with a strainer. Adding sugar, Pomona's Pectin and a few squeezes of lemon, I brought the dandelion liquid to a boil again and stirred the syrup vigorously with a wooden spoon until nascent blobby goodness emerged.
My first attempt yielded dandelion preserves that were the color and consistency of thick maple syrup, so I had to reboil, adding more pectin. The result was about a pint of very delicious, delicate-tasting jelly, which I promptly spread on toast, and later added as a confit to turkey burgers. I had read others describing dandelion jelly as tasting like a summer field, but for me it's exactly like real wild honey disguised as preserves. Which is why I suppose the bees are so busy getting drunk on the flowers.
Urban Forager Dandelion Preserves
(makes about two pints)
2 cups dandelion blossoms, separated from leaves and bracts
2 cups water
1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1
1. Boil flowers in water on medium heat for about 10 minutes.
2. Strain petals from liquid and return liquid to pot to boil.
3. Add sugar, lemon juice and pectin, following your particular pectin's instructions.
4. Boil and stir vigorously with a wooden spoon, skimming the foam, until the top surface becomes blobby and glasslike (2 or more minutes).
(Canning is a whole separate art - involving boiling, filling the jar with preserves and reboiling - which those of us who didn't grow up in canning families need to learn from jam masters, so I'll leave that to you to learn how to do on your own.)
Additional information:
Urinary Calculus And Traditional Chinese Medicine In China
Herbal remedies: renal tragedies
Chinese Herbal Medicine and Kidney Stones All Kidney News
Use of Herbal Supplements in Chronic Kidney Disease National
HowStuffWorks "18 Home Remedies for Kidney Stones"
Natural Remedies for Kidney Disease: Learn How to Improve Kidney
Buy alternative medicine products, herbal remedies, natural health
Effects of Herbal Supplements on the Kidney Introduction
Gallstone removal, kidney stone removal and gallbladder flush
Herbs for Health and Healing Kidney Stones
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes....
Related "Medicine":
Rating:
Not yet rated
(votes: 0)
Comments
No comments posted.
Add Comment