Ciaran’s Peculier [sic] Blog

The oriental leaves we sowed a few weeks ago are producing a great crop of edible leaves. Over the weekend I spent most of my time taking advantage of the good weather, munching away on handfuls of oriental mustard, washed down with copious draughts of Polish lager, while listening to M&M.

 The oriental mustard, also known as mustard greens, is in fact distantly related to the cabbage. Its botanical name is Brassica Juncea. It is beloved of Chinese cookery. It is also adored by the Meo or Hmong people of Vietnam. These Montagnards converted in large numbers to Christianity during the colonial period. They  also earned a reputation, perhaps undeserved, of collaborating too closely with the Americans.

 Oriental mustard is distinct from the mustard we grow in mustard and cress collections. This has the botanical name of Sinapis alba, and its seeds are one of the essential ingredients in the condiment mustard.

Viewers of Alys Fowler’s BBC series The Edible Garden will recall the glee with which she dug up some of her Jerusalem artichokes. These tubers are amongst my favourite vegetables, but everyone knows that they contain a substance called inulin, which is non-digestible. In fact, this leads to almost uncontrollable flatulence. You just can’t stop farting, and the more you try to keep it in the more you resemble a turnip that’s just about to burst. It’s just the thing if you’re due to meet a bishop or monsignor. Alys  mentioned a plant to alleviate the baleful effects of Jerusalem artichoke – chewing the leaves of winter savory (Satureja Montana). I must admit I’d never heard of that remedy.

 I knew of course about winter savory’s better-known cousin the summer savory (Satureja Hortensis). Both belong to the mint family. This has been known since classical times and Virgil recommended it as a honey herb to be planted near beehives. It was known in medieval England as satturey but somehow it adopted a “v” instead of a “t”. It has long been used in association with legumes, especially beans and lentils, and it most certainly adds to their occasionally monotonous taste. In Germany it has long been known as the bean herb or Bohnenkraut. The association with beans isn’t just culinary though, as summer savory has been proven to be an effective companion plant, which when grown beside beans deters black fly.  Gernot Katzer mentions that it can be used as a very poor substitute for black pepper. Its peppery quality has led to another German name Pfefferkraut. According to the Larousse Gastronmique, its affinity to pepper has led the plant t be known in some parts of Provence as poivre d’ane or Donkey Pepper. I don’t believe this was ever meant as a compliment. 

The savories were so well known in mid seventeenth century England that Culpeper didn’t think it necessary to give a description. He preferred the summer savory. It had quite wide medicinal uses, including the suppression of wind and flatulence, so Alys is on to something. A decoction made with ther leaves and oil of roses and applied as ear drops could ameliorate tinitis, while a poultice of savory leaves and wheat flour was effective against sciatica. 

 Winter savory shares all the qualities of the summer variety, but is reckoned to be spicier. I cannot wait for ours to grow before tucking into some Jerusalem artichokes. Rosie has promised to make me some of that old Victorian favourite Palestine Soup, after which I would recommend those with delicate nostrils to stand well back.