chamomile - german, wild & otherwise

I saw J on Saturday, after not having seen her for a month! We got brunch at the Egg Slut Truck, which is pricey but delicious, and definitely worth trying at least once. I got a 5 oz. 'espresso & milk' from Handsome Coffee Roasters afterward, which I sipped as J and I walked over the 4th Street bridge and all around the adjacent neighborhood - which, even with the presence of newly developed lofts and apartments and hip/up-and-coming restaurants and businesses, the industrial presence of warehouses, barbed wire-topped fences, and railroad tracks still heavily drives the mood of the area. Excellent. As we walked, I noticed lush sproutings of this wild chamomile (Matricaria discoidea), also known as pineapple weed, and plucked handfuls of it, shoving it all into my empty to-go cup as we continued talking and avoiding strange characters wandering around the alleyways.

The cone-shaped flower heads lack any white petals that you see on German chamomile, but upon crushing it, that distinct smell of chamomile as well as a strong pineapple scent arise, and then you know beyond a shadow of a doubt what it is you've stumbled across! I simply plucked off the cushy heads, plopped them into a jar, and steeped them in boiling water until it turned greeny-gold. It tastes exactly like regular chamomile tea, if not better, because it is wild/foraged.

With all these thoughts of wild chamomile buzzing through my head, I noticed that Trader Joe's has their grower's bunches of chamomile in stock, which I unfortunately missed out on last year. So there was zero hesitation on my end today to grab a couple of bunches - the traditional-looking flowers as well as one of the double-flowered variety. The effect of all this chamomile was twofold - uplifting my spirits dampened by a monthly visitor, and soothing a headache and fatigue by either the same visitor or the cursed Daylight Savings Time switcheroo that just happened last night. Thanks chamomile, for helping me make it through the day!

foraging - stinging nettles

I've always been curious about the stinging nettle (Urtica dioica) in European folklore and, more recently, its role as a nutrient-rich wild food source. I found a patch of beautiful new-growth nettles and gingerly harvested a few stems and leaves until I managed to pluck a leaf off of one plant and have it slap against one of my knuckles despite my gloved hands (note: use thick leather gloves! I only had a pair that was rubberized on the palm-side and knit/woven on the top and foolishly figured those were good enough). Immediately I felt its notorious sting! Luckily there was plenty of chickweed growing amongst the nettles, so I plucked a few stems, mashed them up and rubbed the poultice onto my hand; within a few minutes the sting was far less severe and never got the chance to swell.

Back in the kitchen I boiled some water and examined the goods. Check out those trichomes, eek! They're composed of silica and are basically natural hypothermic needles with a venom-filled bulb at the base of the structure. The slightest touch breaks off the tip and delivers a good dose of sting to whoever's unfortunate enough to disturb it. I'm glad I know how the sting feels now, but am even happier that I didn't, oh, fall face-first into a big patch of these guys while I was clumsily foraging about. Anyhow, I enjoyed the nettles as tea, which is famously great as a spring tonic that clears nasal passageways/sinuses/detoxifies the system. Or something. I honestly was just very curious about its flavor, which I would describe as earthy and robust and totally worth getting stung for. I was a little nervous about consuming the greens after steeping them for tea, but their quick boil/soak in water definitely removed the sting from the needles, so I had the wilted greens with some eggs along with my tea. Tastes a lot like spinach!

And here is the stinging nettle in its natural element. I regard these guys in a totally different light now, for the better!