LOVELY DANDELIONS

As the poet did not write:

As the poet did not write:

Fair dandelions, we weep to see

You haste away so soon.

They are fair, indeed, and in many ways more beneficial and almost as good to look at as Herrick's daffodils. They have their, snags. They do last a long time and their little parachute seeds, carried off on the breeze, make sure that the species will survive I and thrive. And whether it's your lawn or the edge of the roadside ditch doesn't matter. Dandelions are tough. They can be tender, too. Their young leaves are, indeed, excellent in salad. They have to be young, though, for later they are bitter. When young they are superior in a salad to rocket.

READ MORE

One writer, Roger Phillips, tells us that "In France, dandelions can still be bought in the markets under the name pissenlit." More politely, we will say that the leaf may be slightly diuretic. Phillips tells us, in his magnificently illustrated Wild Food, that in the past, dandelions were cultivated in kitchen gardens, where they often attained a huge size. And the leaves can be blanched by being covered by flower pots, and can be induced to last through the winter by removing the flower buds as they appear.

And, of course there are recipes; for dandelion flower wine and dandelion beer. Herbalists such as Nicholas Culpeper, in the 17th century, have written of its "opening and cleansing quality" and say it's therefore very good for the liver, gall and spleen, and diseases that arise from them such as jaundice. You can read it yourself. Culpeper strikes an international note by pointing out that the French and Dutch eat them in the spring, so "foreign physicians are not so selfish as ours, but more communicative of the virtues of plants to people." Penguin produces A Modern Herbal, a massive paperback of some 900 pages with a great deal about this common plant. When you were at school, do you remember that the white milky stuff that came from the flower stem could be dabbed on your hand and make a dark brown or blackish circle, a sort of primitive tattoo? Or dabbed on the back of the neck of the person who sat in front of you in class. You can roast the roots and grind them and make coffee, if stuck.