Dates: A Global History is another title in the Edible series from Reaktion Books. An unusual aspect of the fruit (technically a berry) of the date palm tree is that it may be harvested at three different stages of ripeness–the ultrasweet dates one usually finds for sale in groceries are at the final stage, when they have sun-dried on the tree and the skin has begun to wrinkle and darken. Dates have been used as a food staple for centuries. Once called ‘bread of the desert’ and ‘cake for the poor,’ dates are still considered of vital importance in combating world hunger.
The date palm’s botanical name (Phoenix dactylifera) derives from the tree’s origins in Phoenicia (now Lebanon, Syria, and Israel), while the species name might refer back to the Semitic roots of the word for palm (dekel in Hebrew, diqla in Aramaic, etc.) or could refer to the finger-like (dactylos) shapes of clusters of fruit, or more: it’s shrouded in mystery and confusion, as with so many names. You will also learn of a connection to the firebird or phoenix of myth and legend, which built a nest of cassia twigs and frankincense in the top of a date palm.
Other aspects of the date palm:
- Once a full crown of leaves has developed, the trunk does not widen with age; there are no annual growth rings if one cuts a cross-section. Leaves which die off protect the trunk with their bases that remain attached. The tree’s roots are fibrous, and secondary roots grow out of the bottom of the trunk. Both a male and female tree are needed to produce fruit. Trees must be hand-pollinated in spring (this has been common knowledge since the days of Mesopotamian agriculture!).
- Even in the days of Pliny the Elder, there were numerous varieties of dates. The ones American consumers will probably recognize are medjool and deglet noor, but there are nightingale’s eggs (beidh il-bilbil), khalasa (quintessence), and even an Obama date named for our president.
- Although we mainly think of date palms for their edible uses, the hollowed trunks were made into aqueduct pipes for irrigation, and were used in building (the first mosque in Medina, built in about 630 C.E., was reportedly made of palm trunks, thatched with palm leaves, with prayer mats of woven leaves).
- Indio in Southern California is the date capital of the U.S., and holds an annual date festival.
The book ends with several tempting recipes (sweet ones such as a 13th-century recipe for date syrup, and a personal favorite: a filled cookie called ma’moul, as well as savory uses).
Like the other books in this series, this title includes footnotes, bibliography, and index.
I’ve always wondered about the warty etrog (citron, or Citrus medica) used as part of the Jewish observance of Sukkot (etrog represents one of The Four Species mentioned in the Biblical description of this festival; the others are palm, myrtle, and willow): what purpose did the fruit serve beyond the ritual, and how was this odd-looking fruit related to lemon? The answers to these and many other citrus-related questions may be found in Toby Sonneman’s Lemon: A Global History, a volume in the Edible series from Reaktion Books (2012). It was a surprise to discover the important role of the citron (probably a wild species from northeast India) in the development of a ‘citrus culture’ that eventually gave rise to the lemon we use for its flavor. Citron, thick-skinned and inedible, was valued for its fragrance (mentioned in a Hindu text from before 800 B.C.E.). Its centuries-old use in Jewish ritual would eventually lead to cultivation in different parts of the world after the fall of Jerusalem in the year 70 C.E., when so many Jews dispersed across North Africa, into the Aegean, Spain, and Italy.
The lemon was probably an ancient natural hybrid, and its route to the Mediterranean is difficult to trace because of the confusion in written and visual depictions: lemons and citrons are hard to distinguish, and common names can be unreliable. Lemons hold an important place in Arab culture, and were also prized in Persia. Because of the lemon’s need for water, farmers developed ingenious irrigation canals with stone tiles to regulate and direct water flow, these methods were widely adopted.
The first recipes using lemon appeared in a 12th century Egyptian treatise called On Lemon: Its Drinking and Use by Ibn Jumay, a Jewish physician in the court of Saladin. He devised a way of preserving lemons with salt, and mentions the fruit’s medicinal uses for a wide range of conditions. Ibn Jumay’s writing was translated, and lemon’s culinary and medicinal fame spread.
Other points of interest:
- Lemons were scarce and costly, and therefore a status symbol, in Northern Europe. You will find them in many 17th century Dutch still life paintings.
- Cosimo III de’Medici grew 116 varieties of citrus in his gardens. The name Medici is possibly related to the name for citron, Median apple (Media being the Greek name for ancient Persia).
- It took a long time for sea voyagers to figure it out, but lemons were an essential preventive against scurvy. (If you think about the term ‘ascorbic’ acid–something which is found in lemons and other citrus–you can see that it is anti-scurvy!) British English does not use ‘lemon’ in the pejorative sense of American English, perhaps a bow to the fruit’s life-saving properties.
- Harvesting lemons is a thorny business but the Meyer lemon has fewer thorns.
This pocket history reaches from antiquity to the present time, and is packed with colorful details and illustrations. You may also want to try making Ibn Jumay’s preserved lemons, included along with several other more recent recipes.
Part biography, part garden photo essay, and part ventriloquist’s act, Marta McDowell’s Beatrix Potter’s Gardening Life (Timber Press, 2013) provides a window into Potter’s world. If you have read her children’s books, you will have a lasting impression of the charming adventures of rabbits, hedgehogs, kittens, and ducks but you may not think of Beatrix Potter as a botanical illustrator. I was surprised to discover that the highly accomplished sketch of foxglove and periwinkle on page 27 was made when she was only ten. The best feature of this book is the gathering together of selected drawings and watercolors of plants, fungi, and landscapes. Potter’s natural history illustrations (particularly of mushrooms) are featured in Ambleside’s Armitt museum.
Potter was also a certifiable plant addict, and was not averse to gathering cuttings and seeds in gardens not her own. Royalties from her publications enabled her to acquire property and land, so she ended up with several gardens in England’s Lake District. The weakest part of the book is McDowell’s attempt to channel Beatrix (as she takes the liberty of calling her) by paraphrasing from her journals and letters to feature aspects of the gardens through the seasons. The accompanying photos are glorious (I am captivated by Hill Top garden’s green-painted wrought-iron gate rimed with frost), but it would have been better simply to quote Potter directly.
Audrey Lieberworth enjoyed an active, outdoor childhood in Seattle, but not until she left for Scripps College did she realize “…just how much the connections I made with these [Seattle] landscapes as a child had shaped the person I had become.” The result of this revelation is her senior thesis, “Seattle’s Orchards: A Historic Legacy Meets Modern Sustainability.”
The heart of this work is a survey of eleven orchards–some historical, others recently planted–including their history, their setting in the neighborhood, and types of trees. Also reviewed are the communities supporting each orchard, broad-based programs that support the preservation of trees throughout the city, and the role of the Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation. This engaging report is available in print at the Miller Library, but also online from Scripps.
Excerpted from the Fall 2013 Arboretum Bulletin.
Jim Fox is a consumer advocate. More specifically, a gardening consumer advocate. His goal is “…to educate you to be a savvy consumer so you can be confident that your gardening dollars are well spent.” To achieve this goal, he has written a shopping guide: “How to Buy the Right Plants, Tools & Garden Supplies.”
Many general gardening books touch on plant buying or tool selection, but typically at the back of the book, or in a brief introduction that the reader hastily skims over to get the real excitement–an encyclopedia of plants in glorious color. Fox recognizes how critical this basic information is for all gardeners, experienced or not, and uses clarity, broad experience, and considerable wit to engage the reader, leaving the colorful photos and plant bios to the several other books that he recommends.
I found the author’s insights into the process of buying and selling plants particularly engaging, demonstrating his perspectives as both an avid collector of specialty plants, and as a long-time nursery worker. “To get good service, you need to be a good customer,” he strongly recommends. For example, spouting your own expertise is a quick way to shut down any helpful advice you might have received from the true expert.
After reading this book, I have a much better appreciation for the dedicated men and women who own and run nurseries and must be skilled at managing both plants and people. All so that we can have the cool plants we really, really want.
Excerpted from the Fall 2013 Arboretum Bulletin.
“Gardening for Sustainability” is almost two books in one. The first part takes you on an intimate tour of the Albers Vista Gardens near Bremerton, approximately four acres lovingly crafted by author John Albers and his wife Santica Marcovina over the last 15 years. I kept a post-it note on the garden map for frequent reference as I walked page-by-page through the 14 garden rooms; the history, purpose, and plantings of each made very real by the considerable descriptive detail and excellent photographs.
“As visitors stand among the Three Islands dreaming of distant lands, they have the choice of proceeding through the open sea of crushed granite or continuing up Madrona Lane.” Transitions like this hold your interest as you continue your tour, while picking up ideas to use for your own garden such as, “…the underutilized Chaste tree [Vitex agnus-castus]…is an ideal substitute for the [invasive] butterfly bush [Buddleia davidii].”
The author’s enthusiasm is especially apparent in a chapter on special collections, including dwarf conifers, striped-bark and Japanese maples, and viburnums. Much of his interest in the latter genus was sparked by the collection at the Washington Park Arboretum, which he studied and described while taking classes through the Center for Urban Horticulture in the 1990s.
The second part of the book is a concise essay on landscape sustainability–excellent reading for any gardener. These principles and practices are the basis for the design and maintenance of the Albers Vista Garden, but despite best intentions the author freely admits that errors do happen. He concludes that it is best to “…learn from your mistake and move on to the next joyful garden project.”
The garden is open to visitors by appointment or for special events. More information is available at www.albersvistagardens.org.
Excerpted from the Fall 2013 Arboretum Bulletin.
“Quiet Beauty: The Japanese Gardens of North America” is itself a book of quiet beauty, and an excellent introduction to Japanese-style gardens throughout Canada and the United States. Photographer David Cobb, from Mosier (near Hood River), Oregon, is particularly adept at emphasizing the contrasts between light and shadow, the subtle reflections in still waters, and the energy of moving water in his subjects. I have visited many of the 26 featured gardens and he captures the spirit of these very well.
Text author Kendall Brown is an Asian Art historian at California State University, Long Beach. His introductory essay places these gardens in the context of what he sees as five distinctive, historical periods beginning at the end of the 19th century. The Seattle Japanese Garden, along with gardens in Portland, at the University of British Columbia, and at the Bloedel Reserve on Bainbridge Island, are all placed in the second of these periods, a time of “Building Bridges” following World War II.
Feeling regional pride, I read the chapter on this period first, and I wasn’t disappointed. Brown is good at telling (what are often) convoluted histories. He underscores the importance of our local gardens in the development of the Japanese style in North America: “The Seattle Japanese Garden also set a new standard as the earliest major permanent garden built in North America by well-established designers from Japan.” He further compliments it as being “…arguably one of the finest in North America.”
Featured in a later chapter is Spokane’s Nishinomiya Garden in Manito Park, while another ten gardens from throughout Washington (including the Kubota Garden) and British Columbia are briefly described in the appendices, making this an important garden book for the Pacific Northwest. Brown’s earlier (1999) book, “Japanese-Style Gardens of the Pacific West Coast”, is also worth reading for a more in-depth general history of this style.
Excerpted from the Fall 2013 Arboretum Bulletin.
An important contributor to our Pacific Northwest literature has been Steve Solomon, now with his 6th edition of “Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades.” Each edition reflects the author’s on-going learning in his craft, the major change in this edition concerns the cultivation of asparagus. He now advocates growing these from seed, rather than starting with root crowns.
![[Wild Plants of Greater Seattle] cover](https://depts.washington.edu/hortlib/graphix/WildPlantsGreaterSeattle.jpg)
Arthur Lee Jacobson’s “Wild Plants of Greater Seattle” was received with great excitement when published by the author in 2001. In the second edition, the author has added 15 new plants to the illustrated field guide, plus more than 100 to the annotated checklist, and corrected or updated much of the nomenclature throughout.
“Emily Dickinson’s Herbarium” is a full-size, facsimile of an album of pressed flowers, leaves, and other plant parts created in the 1840s when Dickinson was a student at Amherst Academy. There is no stated purpose or obvious order to this collection, which includes both native plants of western Massachusetts and specimens that could only come from a garden or conservatory. As a traditional herbarium the value is limited, as none of the important collection information (date, exact location, etc.) are recorded.
Over 400 specimens survive, some accurately labeled by the author using botanical guides of the day, others with descriptive if incorrect Latin binomials (for example, Petunia alba for a white petunia). Others have lost their labels. The Harvard University Herbaria staff has identified nearly all despite numerous challenges. A detailed catalog records all this detective work.
But the value of this book is not as a traditional herbarium. I see it as a piece of history, and of an early glimpse of the life of one of our country’s most valued poets. And, if you’ve ever attempted your own collection of pressed plants, you will appreciate the considerable effort taken not only to produce this book, but also to preserve it for over 160 years.
Accompanying essays document the herbarium’s conservation, the history of the family battles over Dickinson’s legacy, and securing the Dickinson collection for Harvard. Best is the article by Richard B. Sewall, “Science and the Poet: Emily Dickinson’s Herbarium and ‘The Clue Divine,'” in which he begins, “Take Emily’s Herbarium far enough, and you have her.” Perhaps. In any case, he argues for the close connection she found between science and art — an argument that could be equally well applied to William Bartram.
“Emily Dickinson’s Herbarium,” because of its size, cannot be checked out, but is available to all to study and view in the Miller Library.
Excerpted from the Summer 2008 Arboretum Bulletin.