Winter Greens Worth Waiting For: Bittercress, Dock, Field Garlic

January 4, 2020

No doubt you could find some actual wintergreen—famous as a flavor for toothpaste and gum--out in the forest, if you were willing to tromp through the snow. But there's no need: With climate change, our winters are pretty mild here in Massachusetts, and there are plenty of delicious greens to be found in our yards and neighborhoods--even in January.

For instance, Hairy Bittercress. This little cutie (the whole plant is no bigger than my hand) popped up in the gravel driveway a few weeks ago. It’s an annual that actually likes to grow in the cold months, and scatter its seeds in the spring. A member of the Brassicaceae family (which also includes cabbage, broccoli, and mustard), it’s neither hairy nor bitter. Instead, it tastes a lot like arugula—you get the muskiness of the Brassicas, plus the peppery zing of the mustards. It would make a great addition to a salad. Plus, you earn bragging rights: who else in your neighborhood is harvesting fresh greens in December? And you didn’t even have to bother planting, watering, and fertilizing it!

Plenty of our familiar summer edibles are still available, especially in warm protected spots up against foundations. On my walk today I saw our friends Dandelion, Narrowleaf Plantain, and Dock (pictured left). A few frosts may take the edge off the bitterness of these herbs: I plucked the youngest leaves of the Dock, and though chewy, they were mild and lemony—much more palatable than when I’ve tried them in the spring and summer.

In my post about Kathleen’s Fall Root Tonic, I introduced Field Garlic. I love this Allium (Onion family), because it looks almost exactly like grass, but it is green all through the winter. Try it: if you see a bright green tuft standing bravely in a field of dead brown grass, reach down and pinch off a few leaves. If it smells oniony, you’ve found Field Garlic--a delightful addition to winter soups and stews.

Another plant that thrives in the cold months--Witch Hazel. Not an edible, but a medicinal: Its leaves, twigs, bark, and flowers can be applied to the skin as an astringent. It was once used widely as a topical treatment for ailments such as acne, psoriasis, and hemorrhoids. I include it here because what other shrub is flowering in January? None that I know of. Check out its spindly, spidery

Witch Hazel at Arnold Arboretum in Boston, January 2020

yellow flowers. I once mused aloud to Steven, What could possibly be pollinating these flowers? His answer: I don’t know, but whatever insect might be flying around this time of the year, that’s the only pollen available. I did some research, and turns out he was right. The winter blossoms of Witch Hazel are capitalizing on the fact that there are no other plants in bloom to serve as competition, so any stray wasp, bee, or moth that's not sleeping will have to rely on Witch Hazel for food.

When I'm out and about in winter, when I see edible greens, I snap them up*. I'm convinced that the foraged food I eat has turbo-boosted my immune system. Everyone around me has a cold right now. I have not had a respiratory illness in almost two years (knock on wood)--since I started really indulging my interest in Nature's bounty.

Don't let Big Agriculture tell you otherwise: These wild edible plants provide the nutrients we evolved to eat, and this is the food our bodies crave. I encourage you to take a look at James C. Scott's book, Against the Grain. He makes the claim, based on archaeological evidence, that humans were actually healthier when we lived as hunter-gatherers, before the widespread adoption of fixed settlements growing crops. (I guess that those who advocate for a Paleo diet would agree.) But don't just believe me: Here are two more articles on the subject, one from the NY Times and one from Mother Jones. I keep a running list of interesting plant-and-food related resources on my Recommended Reading page, if you are interested in learning more about these topics.

*Once I've made an ironclad identification, and assuming that the plant's not growing on contaminated land.