The bright yellow blossoms give dramatic proof of Dandelion's presence in a well-manicured lawn. This plant inspires both appreciation and abomination. Four-year-olds pick the crayon-box colored disks to make sunny bouquets. Older children blow the silvery spherical seed heads to watch them shatter and send seeds floating through the air. Lawn purists spread herbicides to kill the hated weed. Gardeners dig them out, knowing how quickly they spread and how hard they are to eradicate.The trick is making sure to get the long taproot. Missing any segment will guarantee regrowth. I must admit I dig them out somewhat reverently, though, for I've come to see Dandelions as historical artifacts.
Dandelions settled in North America with immigrants. Many of our common weeds arrived the same way. By 1748 observers already claimed they saw French Canadians digging Dandelion roots, so they've been here a long time. Dandelions were a plant the colonist felt too valuable to be without. They remain an important food crop in Europe and other parts of the world. Originally they came from the Mediterranean regions and were mentioned by Theophrastus hundreds of years before Christ.
The name Dandelion always rouses my curiosity. A Mediaeval German botanist for some unknown reason identified the plant as Dens Leonis or lion's tooth. Through the ages it has been corrupted into its common English name, Dandelion. Other common names include Fairy Clock, Diente de Leon, Blowball, and PeetheBed (probably due to it diuretic qualities). Its botanical name of Taraxacum offinale. The offinale means the plant was an apothecary herb, important in health care. There are two accepted derivations for Taraxacum. Some belief it comes from the Greek taraxos for disorder, and akos for remedy. Others belief it is Persian in orgin, coming from tark hashgun meaning wild endive.
The colonists were right, Dandelions are valuable plants. They contain high quantities of vitamins A, B, C and D and every part is edible. The tangy young leaves can be added to salads, or blanched and served like spinach (old leaves are bitter). Year-old roots can be cooked like parsnips or dried and brewed as a tea or added like chicory to coffee.
Historically, the plant was believed to heal health problems from indigestion and constipation to blood disorders. My grandmother encouraged Dandelions greens as a spring tonic to cleanse winter blood. If you check the internet you will find many claims still made for herbal products featuring Taraxacum.
Dandelion was also used as a dye. The flowers provided a yellow color and the whole plant added magenta to weavers' craft.
Last, but not least, of its virtues, is Dandelion wine. I've never had it, but it is claimed to taste somewhere between sherry and champagne. If you're adventurous, I've listed a recipe below, but there are as many recipes as there are wine makers. Pamela Jones, author of Just Weeds, claims the wine has the most elusive, delicately fragrant flavors imaginable, the color pure liquid gold. That makes me feel like picking Dandelion flowers.
Dandelion Wine: Mix one gallon of Dandelion flowers (only flowers that have not been sprayed with chemicals) with one gallon of boiling water. Let the mixture set overnight. Strain off the liquid. To the liquid add 3-1/2 pounds of sugar, a cake of yeast and two cut-up oranges and two cut-up lemons. Cover and let set for a week, stirring and skimming contents daily until bubbles no longer form. Let the mixture settle for one day and on the next siphon the liquid into bottles. Cork and let mature for at least six months.