Severe, grave and philosophical

That, we are told by the BBC’s Material World presenter Quentin Cooper, is what Jonathan Swift thought coffee makes us. And I for one would agree with Mr Cooper that it is indeed also how Dr Aaron Davis, Head of Coffee Research at Kew Gardens, and global crop wild relative expert Dr Nigel Maxted, from the University of Birmingham, came over in an interview with him yesterday. It’s all because of that Kew study on the effects of climate change on wild arabica, which is really making the rounds, not least thanks to the BBC. You can download the whole podcast, but we’ve taken the liberty of filleting out the 10 minutes of the programme which feature Drs Davis and Maxted, with many thanks to the BBC. More background on crop wild relatives in Europe from the PGR Secure and the older PGR Forum project website. IUCN has a Red List. There’s a Global Portal. And a big global project on crop wild relatives too. Who says these things are not getting enough attention?

Listen to that key segment.

Read that paper on Arachis, Vigna and Solanum Nigel alluded to.

And dream about attending that FAO workshop he mentioned for next week.

Nibbling as the berries go round

Issue 56 of Berry Go Round – the botany blog carnival – is up at Seeds Aside. Plenty of goodies there, and here are the ones more directly related to our own interests:

  • Phytophactor gives a one-word answer to the question “Can you eat flowering kale?” He also explains that “flowering” is a misnomer. To which I would add that as an ornamental, “flowering” kale is an abomination while as an edible, flowering kale is scrumptious.
  • The great P.Z. Myers shares a photograph of a curcurbit tendril. And unleashes a storm of comment crap. Some people…
  • And Joseph Craine has rounded up n most-important papers about N; where n=12 and N=nitrogen.

Now, why don’t you consider submitting to, or even hosting, the next Berry go Round?

Taro in the Levant

I was reminded during a recent trip back to Cyprus (my first visit in 20 years after living there for quite a while) of the curious fact that taro is a staple of traditional Cypriot cuisine, something of an outlier in the Mediterranean. Called kolokassi, the tuber is prepared in a number of ways, and the young offshoots, or suckers, are also taken fried. You can see these in the photo, labelled “poulles.”. Peter J. Matthews has this to say in his “Genetic Diversity in Taro, and the Preservation of Culinary Knowledge“:

In Cyprus only one cultivar of taro is grown, but there are at least nine distinct ways of preparing taro (skhara, vrasto, souppa skourdalia, tiganites, kappamas, yiakhni, psito, moussakas, Matthews 1998a) (Figure 4). The fermentation of taro starch, and the edibility of leaves (petioles and blades) are not known in Cyprus. All the methods recorded use heat to reduce acridity — by simmering, boiling, stewing, frying, roasting, grilling, and baking (steaming was not reported). For each named dish, the details of preparation varied from person to person and village to village. The range of dishes is not large, compared to the range in Japan (Matthews 1995), but does involve a greater range of methods for applying heat.

You can find out more in the book “The Global Diversity of Taro: Ethnobotany and Conservation,” in which Dr Matthews has also had a hand. Poulles are not mentioned, which makes me think their consumption may be a relatively recent innovation.

It’s not clear where that one Cypriot cultivar may have come from, though Matthews says that the crop “is likely to have reached Cyprus in ancient times from India or Africa, via the Levant or Egypt.” That makes sense, but will be difficult to verify, as there is precious little in the way of germplasm collections in the region between Europe and India. I would imagine Egypt in particular would be fertile territory for a bit of collecting. I wasn’t able to find any ancient Egyptians representations of the plant, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they exist.

Ex-pat wasabi flourishing

Luigi’s indefatigable quest for all the truth there is to be had about wasabi (Wasabia japonica) reminded me that long ago and far away, I entertained thoughts of growing the stuff commercially. Luigi alluded to the reason when he said “there is imitation wasabi on the market”. Amen to that. In fact, there’s almost nothing else on the market. Practically all the wasabi you, a mere mortal, are ever likely to try outside Japan (and much inside) is the wrong stuff. The right stuff commands a hefty price tag, the reason I was entertaining those thoughts to begin with. A little digging, however, persuaded me that the plant was far too persnickety and capital intensive to be worthwhile, so I gave up on it. Silly me.

Turns out wasabi is not nearly as hard to grow as people imagine. Richters, a reliable seed company that supplies the plants, says

[W]asabi will grow quite happily in any moist, organic-rich soil where there is shade and protection from the summer heat; running water is not required. After 18-24 months the rhizomes are harvested, washed, peeled and grated for fresh use.

Nothing there about no sharkskin.

Companies in the US and New Zealand are apparently making a decent fist of growing it on a commercial scale. At which point, I nearly gave up on wasabi again. But one more Google brought me to a suitably gushing piece in The Daily Telegraph less than a month ago. Talk about the wasabi zeitgeist! That too pushes the “wasabi is really difficult” trope, and more power to the plucky lads at The Watercress Company who pulled it off. Now to see whether I can get some of the real thing for a proper taste test.

No point trying to grow it here. Like watercress, which I miss terribly at times, the need to stay cool in summer probably dooms it. I expect it would do OK in northern Germany.