Planting a herb garden – history, food and wellbeing

Now that there is some warmth in the spring sunshine, I have planted a herb garden.  It’s a very small herb garden – a vintage Belfast sink and a couple of pots – but it’s attractive and will serve my purposes.

The Belfast sink has been empty over the winter – when we moved house last autumn we emptied out the old herbs which were well past their best, ready for fresh ones this season.  It’s lovely to see it fully planted up, beside the back door so that it’s in easy reach of the kitchen, in a corner which is a suntrap.  The challenge is to remember the watering!

Colour photograph of a Belfast sink planted with herbs, and a green watering can.

The choice of herbs for sale was a bit limited so early in the year, but the plants were in very good condition, and there’s room to pop a couple more into the gaps later in the season if I find some.  I chose two purple sages, one oregano, and two thymes (one gold, one silver).  The sages will grow quite tall, so I put them at the back, with the oregano in the middle, and the thymes at the front.  They will spread, and be able to trail over the edge of the sink.  I also bought Moroccan mint, and a medium-sized rosemary – as mint is invasive and would take over the whole sink given half a chance, and as rosemary grows large and is long lived and will soon outgrow the sink, I have put each in a separate pot.  Ideally I’d also have some chives and some tarragon, although I’ve never had much luck with growing the latter, and maybe some flatleaf parsley (which I use where recipes call for coriander, which I don’t like).

Growing herbs has a long and venerable tradition.  Used for thousands of years for culinary, medicinal and ritual purposes, they have been an enduring part of human civilisation and their cultivation is an international phenomenon.  Much of what we know in the West about herbs and their uses was written down by medieval monks who grew herbs in the physic gardens of their abbeys, and a significant proportion of modern medicines have their origins in herbal compounds, so growing them today feels like connecting with the past.

So what of the herbs in my garden?  Let’s look at their history, uses and properties.

Sage

Its Latin name, Salvia, comes from salvare, to cure, so its medicinal reputation is long-established.  It has been used to treat sore throats and digestive problems.  Clinical trials in 2011 suggested that sage’s reputation of being helpful in the menopause may have scientific backing, as a trial reported its effectiveness in reducing hot flushes.  Originating in the Mediterranean area, sage is grown around the world, thriving in warm sunny locations – so my suntrap by the back door should suit it well.

Perhaps best known in Britain for its role in sage and onion stuffing, sage is strongly-flavoured and I use it a lot in casseroles, as well as torn up and tossed with buttered pasta.  Being a ‘lady of a certain age’, I also drink it as a tea (although as I’ve only had the plants a few weeks, it’s too early to report an improvement in symptoms!).

Oregano/marjoram

Another native of the Mediterranean (this time the Middle East), this is also a sun-lover.  Its antiseptic qualities made it a medieval cure-all, and the first settlers to New England took this herb with them.  I like it with chicken, fish, or pasta, and it is delicate enough not to swamp subtly-flavoured foods.  To me, this is a real sunshine herb – just crushing the leaves and sniffing your fingers will give you a lift.

Thyme

Prescribed by the 17th century herbalist Nicholas Culpeper as a treatment for whooping cough in children, thyme has long been regarded as having antiseptic properties and being useful in respiratory conditions.  It’s a staple culinary herb (although incredibly fiddly to prepare, as you need to strip the tiny leaves from the woody stems) and gives a fresh, warm flavour which is hard to beat.  Pretty much all ‘mixed herbs’ include dried thyme, but it’s less potent when used fresh and partners well with rosemary, oregano and sage.

Mint

The Moroccan mint I’m growing is a kind of spearmint, so it’s warm in flavour rather than cool peppermint.  Its culinary uses are almost endless – salads, mint sauce, cakes, desserts, cold drinks, and mint tea, for example.  Humans have used mint for a long time – it has been found in Egyptian pyramids dating from 1000 BCE, and the Greeks and Romans used it – but curiously it only came into widespread use in Western Europe as late as the 18th century.  Medicinally, it has been used to aid digestion, and specifically to deal with wind, which may be the reason for the popularity of after dinner mints!

Rosemary

“There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance,” said Ophelia in Shakespeare’s Hamlet.  Since antiquity rosemary has been believed to help strengthen the memory, and it is still used in Greece in the homes of those preparing for exams.  Another herb which likes hot, dry conditions, rosemary has a pungent, invigorating flavour and aroma – and the white, lilac or blue flowers are adored by bees and other insects.  I have always grown rosemary, and use it generously in cooking.  The traditional partner is, of course, roast lamb, but I use it (either as whole sprigs, removed before serving, or finely chopped) in almost anything that’s going to be cooked for a while – casseroles especially.

Photograph of a chopping board with chopped herbs and a large kitchen knife.

Whilst the whole ‘grow your own’ phenomenon may require more space, time and energy than many of us have available in 21st century Britain, it’s possible to have a herb garden in the smallest of spaces – in a pot or in a window box, or even indoors on a windowsill at a pinch.  And nothing beats the pleasure of cooking with herbs that you have grown and harvested yourself.

 

Live simply, so that others may simply live

I have been – again – mulling over the whole issue of living simply.  The quotation from Gandhi which is the title of this post is quite a challenge.  I know there are no easy, glib answers, and no doubt many readers of this blog will take issue with my views and those of the blogs I link to.  The catalyst for my current musings was the pointless deaths of hundreds of textile workers at the Rana Plaza factory in Bangladesh, who died, it would seem, as a direct result of our insatiable desire for cheap stuff.  I do wonder whether any of the clothes I have worn over the years which bore the label ‘Made in Bangladesh’ were  made by those workers.

Thanks to a re-tweet by @scrapiana (www.scrapiana.com) I found this blog post from Toft’s Nummulite http://toftsnummulite.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/the-high-price-of-cheap-stuff-what-we.html and it makes for interesting reading.  The links within it are worth following up too – the short film on The Story of Stuff http://www.storyofstuff.org/movies-all/story-of-stuff/ is about a coffee-break long and although it is American, with increased globalisation and related issues, it’s certainly relevant to us in the UK 6 years after the film was originally made.  The graphics are very cool too!

From the point of view of fashion, and the buying choices we in the West might make, there is a link to another blog post, http://www.oranges-and-apples.com/2012/01/untangling-ethical-fashion.html which is one analysis of the criteria for purchasing clothing.  There has been a huge amount written about this in the past few years, but this is quite a good introduction.  I appreciate the acknowledgement that there isn’t one ‘right way’ to prioritise factors when making a purchasing decision – but it is helpful to have an overview of the issues, and the possible unintended consequences of our actions.  My own priorities include other factors – I try to buy  British-made (well-nigh impossible at my price point) to support the local/regional/national economy but also so that I can be sure that the workers who made it had some rights, healthcare, education etc – or at least made on this continent to reduce the distance it’s transported.  I try to buy wool, cotton, linen or (at a pinch) viscose to reduce petrochemical use and allow for composting when eventually at the end of their useful life (I also think wearing natural fibres is healthier).  I try to buy clothes I know I will be able to maintain (no dry clean only) and repair (I am reasonably skillful with a needle).  Badly-made clothes, with skimpy seam allowances and badly-finished stitching, will not last and are not worth the investment of resources in making them, let alone buying them.   I know I need to research more about the impact of dyes and the dyeing process.  I buy a lot of clothes in charity, second-hand and vintage shops (although, being quite tall, and also a larger size than was common before the last couple of decades, means that most older clothing does not fit me) and eBay, and I have more relaxed views about the country of origin of clothes which I am not buying new – after all, they are getting a second use for their sea-miles.  I don’t always succeed in buying the way I would like to, partly because the sourcing of clothing which would meet these and other ethical criteria is enormously time-consuming, and also because I do have limited means (not that buying something expensive necessarily means it has not been made in a sweatshop, but simply because buying a UK made cashmere jumper, say, although it will last for many years if looked after carefully, nevertheless represents an initial outlay not far short of a week’s salary).

The Story of Stuff quotes Victor Lebow’s article for the Spring 1955 issue of The Journal of Retailing, and I find it chilling that the foundations of the consumerist treadmill that has had such a huge impact on the world could have been laid with such calculation:

“Our enormously productive economy demands that we make consumption our way of life, that we convert the buying and use of goods into rituals, that we seek our spiritual satisfaction, our ego satisfaction, in consumption…we need things consumed, burned up, replaced and discarded at an ever-accelerating rate.”

What price living simply, so that others may simply live?