~a column by Colleen O’Brien
Believe it or not, what with Iowa’s February snowstorms, it will soon be time in the northern hemisphere for dandelions; they are preparing to cheer you up as soon as the snow starts melting.
I’m in a warmer place right now, and the yellow “weeds” are dotting the hillside. They bring joy to a beleaguered planet.
They will pop up in your sleeping grassy yards, through old leaves under your bridal veils bushes, in the street gutters and cracks in the sidewalk. They like it near the water faucet and in your gravel driveway, soon in the fields yet to be sowed with poison for the row crops, in the school playground, in a three-year-old’s grubby hand as he hands them to his mom.
There is a theory that flowers were the first plants at the beginning of the world as we know it, and my bet is that the dandelion was the hardy scout. It took millions of years to wangle flowers out of the chaos of the birthing of this planet to move it toward habitability for humans. Whoever’s in charge, or biology at work, or if it’s all serendipity, the earth turned out to be gorgeous, breathtaking, full of dandelions, among other fleurs.
And then we came along. Eager, greedy, forming alliances and enemies, slashing everything in sight, including mountains, forests, native species from bison to brown and red people, streams, prairies, poor countries, with the lovely dandelion spreading meanwhile by English explorers.
We still have peopleless mountains with waterfalls, rolling green and gold fields and forests and water that has not been privatized. The planet hangs on, thrives despite us. And the dandelion, it is the dande that saves me when I’m sad or despairing or frightened of the future; they are the innocent, free beauty in vacant lots and along the ditches of farmlands, bursting forth from bomb craters in Ukraine, even from the asphalt that we plaster our earth with. They appear for our passing gaze, those dandelions, ubiquitous fleurs of spring, that prepare the earth for all the other blooms that can revive us momentarily from despair.
I have a theory that the Brits became such an empire because of their ease with the presence of dandelions all over their gardens and pathways. They left the dandelions in their gardens because of the cheery, long-bloomingness of them and as the first food for birds in the spring. They took no care, gardeners soon realized. The sunny plant began being utilized for medicines, cures, cuts, boils, poultices, edibles – salads, digestives, snacks, side dishes, wine. If you were little, they were picked for one’s mom. If you were in sixth grade, they were used as a hoped-for reflection under your chin to see if your boyfriend liked you or not.
If you were empire, they were the clue to conquering. It was the ubiquitous English, drawing anchor on anything that floated and exploring every place they could get to – just like the dandelion. Then they moved in, planted themselves, took over, eventually to wave their flag from sunset to sunset around the world as they, unlike their fearless and helpful dandelion, used up all the native everything — gold, minerals, animals, lumber, people and then left it all to sort itself out, which some have been unable to do yet.
Dandelions create their own ecosystem in whatever climate they land in, which draws birds and thus healthier soil: scattered across your yard early, while the grass is deciding to come up in patches, dandelions are waving at the birds who then get to gorge themselves on the dandelions’ aphids that would eventually munch on your tulips if not curtailed. (I think of the Brits recreating their own ecosystem in India, with their afternoon tea, their formal wear of the north despite the ungodly heat and humidity, their very adaptation to their newly captured digs compelling admiration.)
Dandelions mean ever-deepening roots that airate the soil and gather minerals to help the grass grow. The Brits were good at being dandelions for a while; they taught their offspring and runaways across the pond in the Free World, who then took over. We were the beginning of the end of the Great Empire.
The Brits remain prosperous, if not the leaders of the free world. The New Worlders/Free Worlders are acting suddenly rude to our long-time bloomin’ friends, the Brits and other Euros, but we will soon fade away as economic leaders, like the Brits (and other Euros). They and we will still have dandelions each spring, a good thing, because at any time in the near future, we all may have to use them for food, medicine, inebriation and caffeine-free coffee.
Dandelions, once common in salads and now considered haute cuisine, are good for your health – more than twice the beta carotene recommended by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, plus half the vitamin C and a helping of vitamin A. Eat dandelions, save your storebought pills for winter. Big chemical companies influencing lawmakers to push herbicides and mis-educating the homeowners to kill need to bug off.
The leaves, high in calcium, potassium and iron, are best when barely there — young and tender, most flavorful in early spring before the first flower buds (also edible) appear. You can nibble them fresh, sprinkle them with lemon, toss them for a salad alone or with other greens, or substitute for chicory, arugula, escarole, endive or spinach. Or eat as a scrumptious side veggie sauteed with onions and garlic (what vegetable isn’t yummy with those two pals?)
The dandelion root is like a potato or turnip if boiled, buttered, salted and peppered – ready long before the potato thinks even of flowering. Can you think of the dandelion taking over from the French fry? Probably not. They’d have to be fried in grease as Big Ag has taught us.
Boiled, dried and roasted, two-year-old dandelion roots can be used as a caffeine-free substitute for coffee. Keep this in mind for the end times, which may happen even without believing in such a thing, when we run out of coffee up here in the north because the tariffs will disallow the expense of real coffee from southern climes.
Dandelion blossoms can be eaten fresh and are sweetest when picked early in the season. They should be used as soon as you pick them to make wine, tea, jelly; and . . . the young buds can be pickled and sauteed with fritters!
They can be also be cooked in boiling water for about 10 minutes to take away some of the bitterness. They can be consumed fresh or cooked in boiling water for about 10 minutes to take away some of the bitterness.
The dandelion’s official name is Taraxacum officinale, which means “official remedy for disorders.” Doesn’t that sound like a magic trick for right now in our increasing fatness? Couldn’t we have a national flower called dandelion? Dandelions are not only cheerful but good for us. The U.S. Department of Agriculture reckons a serving of uncooked dandelion leaves contains about 280 percent of an adult’s daily recommended intake of beta carotene and more than half the recommended intake of vitamin C. Dandelions are also rich in vitamin A.
Dandelions are so loved, they have several nicknames: “Irish daisy,” “monk’s head,” “tell time,” “blowball” and “lion’s tooth.” Dandelion in French means “lion’s tooth” (dent-de-lion), having to do with its jagged leaf edges.
The dandelion could have originated in Europe and also in China. Or it may be even older than that: “The dandelion has no origin; rather, its seeds came into existence at the Big Bang and dispersed through all the dimensions of spacetime, like background radiation and logic.” [unknown carrier of wisdom; also called anonymous; as well as woman] They are like us, made from stardust.
Nearly all parts of a dandelion can be eaten. Regardless of which part you try, make sure the dandelions have not been treated with chemicals, and wash them thoroughly. This removes all soil and insects from the underside of the leaves and roots. Dandelion greens are nutritious once cleaned, like potatoes, radishes, carrots and so on.
Their leaves are high in calcium, potassium and iron, and best when they are young and tender. They are most flavorful in early spring before the first flower buds appear.
Or dress the greens with lemon to reduce the bitterness. The slightly bitter young dandelion leaves make a good substitute or close friend for chicory, arugula, escarole, or curly endive or cooked spinach.
Dandelion roots dug in early spring can be eaten as a vegetable having a turnip-like flavor. The outer skin is bitter, so peel first. Boil and season the roots as you would carrots. Dried and roasted 2-year-old roots can be used as a caffeine-free substitute for coffee
Dandelions are beneficial to a garden ecosystem as well as to human health. They attract beneficial creatures such as ladybirds and provide food for them in the early spring. Through experiments, it has been found that dirt and yards with dandelions have more aphid-laden ladybirds than ground that is free from dandelions, lacking the birds and therefore holding more aphids, a favorite food of the ladybird. Also, the Dandelion’s long roots aerate the soil and help the plant to accumulate minerals that nourish the grass as well as the dandelion. If we manage to maintain a public educational system, the dandelion and its heart-warming usefulness might be a good bit of wisdom to teach. The dandelion story is a history, a happiness, a blessing, a warning, a handy guide to tough times ahead.
