Dandelions came to North America with Europeans and have stuck around
They're everywhere. Simply everywhere.
The scourge of the greenskeeper and the lord of the lawn's lament, they resist all attempts at eradication. They arrived in North America as invited guests but, today, are probably one of the most misunderstood features of our world. Once they had a foothold, these guests set out to colonize new territory.
Apparently, if you went back about 400 years, you'd have been witness to a North America utterly devoid of these rapacious interlopers. They're thought to have come over the Atlantic with the pilgrims and may even have been passengers on the Mayflower. It's said that the Spanish brought them to the West Coast of North America. These plants weren't accidental hitchhikers. Early settlers and explorers brought them over because of their wide-ranging nutritional and medicinal benefits. Highly adaptable, it wouldn't be long before we were all cursing them out.
Because of the heavily serrated edge of the leaves, they were known as the tooth of the lion. People mistakenly presume that the lion part of the name is a reference to the vivid yellow bloom that resembles a lion's mane, but the name derives from those jagged, long leaves.
Tooth of the lion translates into French as dent de lion.
You're way ahead of me now, aren't you? You can easily see how the French name morphed into its English name. Yes, this happy arriviste is the dandelion. And the dandelion is a plant most of us don't really understand or appreciate.
If only measuring their role as a pollinator, dandelions have earned their keep in their relatively recent new home. They're prodigious nectar producers, which makes the bees very happy.
But dandelions are so much more.
You may have noticed shallow baskets of dandelion greens in chic grocery establishments. For the most part, those greens are exactly the same as the ones you spend weekends prising from your garden.
To turn your weeds into a delightful salad, you need only invert a terracotta pot over a young dandelion plant or drop a tarp over a patch of dandelions in early spring. The trick is in the timing. If your dandelions are exposed to sunshine, they'll develop the bitter taste we all associate with dandelions. That bitterness is due to the water soluble chemical called sesquit-erpene. It's most concentrated in the stem so, that's the only part of the dandelion that's not edible. Dandelions grown in shade or in the absence of light have a taste that will remind you of endive.
The early settlers used dandelions to make tea, tinctures, wine and jelly, but folks today are also finding lots of uses for this wildly abundant crop.
The Edmonton and Area Land Trust offers a recipe for dandelion tempura that's reminiscent of squash blossom recipes. The petals from dandelion flowers can be scattered over a salad and those leaves are rich in vitamins A, B1, B2 and C, making them excellent additions to your smoothie or soup.
I'm more than a little bit curious about dandelion jam as well as how effective milky dandelion sap is as a mosquito repellent. Their efficacy as a diuretic is well known; Europeans call the dandelion pis en lit, which translates to wet the bed.
Yes, dandelions are powerhouses of the horticultural world but, for the most part, any time we spend on them is devoted to their removal when perhaps we ought to think more about their cultivation. Surprisingly, West Coast Seeds offers dandelion seeds in its catalogue. If you discover you have a knack for growing and using dandelions, Wayfair offers an “Experimental Dandelion Farm” sign for about $35. They think it's ironic, but maybe it shouldn't be.
THIS WEEK'S QUESTION FOR READERS:
Q Do you, or would you use dandelions? Are you a forager?
Send your answers by email text, not an attachment, in 100 words or less, along with your full name to Jane at thebooklessclub@gmail.com. We will print some next week in this space.
RESPONSES TO LAST WEEK'S QUESTION:
Q Would you remarry? Can you think of any improvements to matrimonial legislation?
■ Yes, I'd do it all again.
I chose the very best of men. He likes to cook and that's just great.
I loved him from the starting gate.
He makes the bread and shops for food.
I can't remember our last feud. He hangs his towel back on the rack.
And always puts the milk jug back.
He downs the lid without reminder.
You couldn't find one any kinder.
He lets me drive without a word. No back seat comments ever heard.
He's lots of fun, no boring days. Can't tell you more — he's shy with praise.
Yes, three score years and wanting more.
And best of all, he doesn't snore. June Macdonald
In 1966 my husband and I made a promise “to love and to cherish until death do us part,” but after 34 years of marriage. this promise was broken.
Although it was devastating at first, it proved to be a wonderful opportunity of renewal. Three children and four grandchildren are a source of love and joy. Last week's topic was the success of marriage and the title of the book that I am currently reading is The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, by Taylor Jenkins Reid. How ironic.
I have no intentions of remarriage at this stage of my life because I am free. Yvonne J. Kolstee
■ In 1970, Alvin Toffler wrote in his bestselling book Future Shock that parallel growth in relationships was the key ingredient to sustaining a healthy marriage, but the odds of achieving this over a lifetime were extremely low, and dropped even further as the rate of change in society accelerated.
His proposed solutions were temporary or serial marriages that could be renewed at certain life stages. He felt this would remove the stigma of divorce and liberate those perpetually trapped in mediocrity. Avrum Miller
■ I never married because of the endless joking I heard about how tough marriage is.
I've always felt that there must be an element of truth in what was being said because I heard it virtually from everyone, divorced or married, but mostly men. I suppose you take the good with the bad and hope the good outweighs the bad.
That said, I would suggest that a marriage licence be treated similar to a driver's licence. Up for renewal every five years and every 10 years after the first child is born.
Bruce Shaw
■ Just an aside to your recent column on second marriages.
My husband and I will celebrate our 48th wedding anniversary on May 24 and it's a second marriage for us both, so I think we have beaten the odds. Patricia & John Pennington