The Resilient Verbascum Thapsus, or 'King's Light
Today, we're taking a deep dive into the world of Verbascum thapsus, a magnificent plant with a royal Scandinavian moniker: 'King's Light.' Its regal name might have been inspired by the usefulness of its dried stalk, which when wrapped in fat, becomes an ideal torch for winter processions.
The seeds of this plant came to us through our grandpa, and they were ancient even when he received them. Verbascum thapsus seeds are storied for their exceptional longevity; they often germinate at archaeological sites when centuries-old graves are disturbed. Indeed, our own seeds sprouted a few of these grand plants, and we hope to see more in the future, provided they produce their own seeds.
Standing tall with lush leaves and bright yellow flowers, the 'King's Light' is a majestic sight. Historically, it has been intertwined with tales of witches and witchcraft, likely due to its prevalent use in herbal medicine.
Yet, our Grandpa shared a more humorous and practical story about the plant. Apparently, it served as a precursor to modern toilet paper. Its incredibly soft leaves and woolly hair were said to be suitable for personal hygiene. Grandpa always used to say, "You can use the King's Light to wipe your arse with." - Not a big fan of the monarchy!
That said, we advise against this practice, as the plant's numerous tiny hairs could potentially cause discomfort in, let's say, sensitive areas.
Check out a few of our foraging posts:
In spring, our kitchen buzzes with the making of wild garlic pesto, crafted not from traditional basil and pine nuts, but from the abundant wild garlic in our woods and a mix of leftover nuts from Yule—almonds, pecans, or whatever we have on hand.
In the lush season of spring, our garden’s magnolia trees are not just a visual spectacle but also a source of culinary inspiration. This time, we turn our focus to a less noticed but equally enchanting part of the magnolia flower: the stamen.
In our exploration of natural ingredients, we've transformed magnolia blossoms into a unique spice powder, perfect for enhancing dishes typically seasoned with cinnamon, cardamom, clove, or ginger. Using two methods—oven roasting for deeper, cardamom-like notes, and air drying for a lighter, citrusy essence—we convert the fragrant petals into culinary delights.
In a glass, our magnolia-infused iced tea is more than just a beverage; it's a celebration of the transition from spring to summer, encapsulating the essence of both seasons.
Springtime in our woodland garden means foraging for garlic mustard, a plant known for its garlicky aroma and peppery flavor. Easily identifiable, it's a favorite of our youngest forager, Bear. Garlic mustard, or "Løgkarse," is historically significant as one of the first known spices, used in Denmark over 6,000 years ago.
Gyromitra esculenta, known as the "edible rock morel," is a forager's delicacy fraught with danger. Hailed as one of the tastiest mushrooms, it requires multiple water cookings to reduce its toxicity. While some savor its reputedly exquisite flavor, we approach this mushroom with caution, opting to forage and dry it for now, leaving the taste test for our later years.
Gathering around a bonfire to cook apples directly in the embers transforms a simple fruit into a special treat. Hollowed and filled with butter, cinnamon, cardamom, syrup, and sugar, then wrapped in foil and baked in the bonfire's glow, these apples become fragrant delights.
Wild garlic salt is a simple, yet transformative way to preserve the vibrant taste of spring's foraged greens, ensuring a year-round supply of their unique flavor. By blending chopped wild garlic leaves with coarse salt until achieving a wet sand consistency, and then drying the mixture, we create a versatile culinary staple.
Our homemade wild garlic butter celebrates the rustic charm of foraging, with its uneven distribution of garlic creating a visually appealing, spotted look and a delightful variance in flavor.
In the spring, our foraging excursions lead us to the treasure of wild garlic, known affectionately as "Oniony onion" or by its Latin name, Allium Ursinum, which resonates with our little Bear as "Bear Onion."
Tapping birch sap is an early spring tradition that brings the forest's bounty to our breakfast table, offering a natural supplement to traditional morning beverages. Selecting the right birch, we drill carefully to collect the sap, which flows most abundantly in the early morning. This sweet, woody, and refreshing liquid, with its subtle mineral notes and slight sweetness, is akin to drinking the essence of spring itself.
Hazel catkin coffee is more than just a beverage; it's an invitation to explore the flavors of the forest, a celebration of spring's bounty, and a testament to the culinary adventures that await in the world outside our doorsteps. Whether enjoyed in its pure form or as the foundation of a spiced chai, this unique brew connects us to the rhythms of nature, offering a sip of the wild in every cup.
In the heart of summer, when the blackberries at our secret spot are at their juiciest and most bountiful, we embark on a new culinary adventure with "freezepowder," also known as xanthan gum. This modern marvel allows us to create a kind of jelly preserve, a "frozen jelly" that captures the essence of fresh berries without the need for extensive cooking or heaps of sugar.
In the soft light of autumn, our garden's sunchokes offer a lesson in nature's resilience. These sunflower-like invaders, with their charming blooms and vigorous growth, are a forager's delight and a gardener's bane. Our youngest, Bear, delights in digging for their sweet tubers, a perfect addition to salads or a subtle twist in our hearty soups. We've learned to harvest them in moderation, especially after the first frost, when they're at their sweetest and kindest to our bellies.
Out in the forest's quiet, under the whispering canopies, we've discovered a tiny treasure trove: mini chanterelles, no larger than a pinkie finger, awaiting those with keen eyes and gentle hands. Some might pass them by, waiting for the full flourish of sprouted fungi, but not us. With Bear as our guide, his small stature a secret weapon, we pluck these young gems from their mossy cradle.