Steam a little spinach for a healthy vegetable addition to a meal and you could experience quite a blast. This is a plant rich in saltpetre, or potassium nitrate, an ionic compound. The science might not have been familiar to chefs of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries but the effects were. Once the water has evaporated, depending on your interests, what remains is either a nitrate-rich fertiliser to entice your leafy vegetables to perform well or a rocket propellant. Historically the latter was the source of much of the match and fuse paper used in fireworks.
09 The Tomato Ketchup Fraud
K etchup was once sold as a medicine. In the 1830s general store owner Archibald Miles launched pills called ‘Dr. Miles’ Compound Extract of Tomato’. He sold them to more than 100,000 customers across the country before he was declared a fraud. What he was actually selling was based on an early recipe for ketchup, derived from Indonesian and Asian cuisine.
This spicy, pickled fish sauce made from anchovies, walnuts, mushrooms and beans was called ke-tsiap or kecap and was popular in seventeenth-century China.
British seamen are thought to have brought ke-tsiap home with them. The name was changed to catchup and then finally ketchup. It wasn’t until the late 1700s that enterprising New Englanders thought to add tomatoes.The idea was picked up by one Henry J. Heinz in 1876 and he started to bottle the concoction for sale.
The modern interpretation is so removed from the original as to be unrecognisable, although the contemporary version outperforms the genuine article in stripping oxidised metal compounds from the outside of pots and pans.
10 Misnomer Fruit
In the mid-1700s, grapefruit was known as the Forbidden Fruit. It was so described by the Reverend Griffith Hughes, who was searching for the identity of the original tree in the Garden of Eden. In 1814, in his Hortus Jamaicensis, John Lunan described its taste as ‘resembling the flavour of the grape’. Clearly he had never tasted one.
Quite why this succulent citrus fruit earned the name Grapefruit is debatable. It was first observed in Barbados where an Orange had been crossed with a larger relative called the Pummelo. The young fruits were borne in clusters along the branches and, when embryonic, resembled a bunch of grapes.
Smoking Gun
Nicotiana, the tobacco plant, was presented as a gift to Christopher Columbus along with other dried leaves by tribes of the New World. Unsure of its worth and purpose, he apparently disposed of the collection. With the annual worldwide death toll from tobacco-related illnesses now estimated to exceed six million there are many who must believe Columbus’s initial reaction was the right one. However, after widespread introduction to Europe and Asia throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and Sir Walter Raleigh’s talent for convincing the Elizabethan court to take up smoking, a habit was formed. All early use was confined to smoking in pipes, chewing, dipping or burning within incense mixtures, with the emergence of the cigarette only occurring in 1832. Apparently all the pipes of the Egyptian artillerymen fighting in the First Egyptian-Ottoman War were damaged and they took to rolling tobacco leaves in the fuse papers from their canons. This practice spread during various military conflicts, including the Crimean War, and was eventually adopted as the preferred way to partake of tobacco.
35 Lipstick Flower
The habit of enhancing the lips with lipstick is found in many civilisations dating back thousands of years and is thought to relate to the male attraction to enlarged and reddened genitals of the female when most receptive.
The ancient Japanese were amongst the first to apply make-up seeking out an extract of Carthamnus tinctorius, a branched thistle commonly called the Safflower. It was liberally blended with waxes before application, possibly making it the first lipstick. Powdered forms were also mixed with lead powder (now known to be highly toxic) before being applied to the cheeks as rouge to contour the cheeks.
The ancient Mesopotamians were also attracted to lipstick employing dye from Mulberry and crushed semiprecious stones for a glistening effect. Meanwhile Cleopatra is said to have used crushed carmine beetles and ants.
Whoever was first to wear it may be lost in history but the first to ban it was the Catholic Church who, in Medieval Europe, suggested that red lips were the incarnation of Satan and the reserve of prostitutes.
36 Under the Gooseberry Bush
The Gooseberry is a curious plant that until the mid-seventeenth century received little comment or notice. Derived from the currant family it originates in the cooler climes of Asia and throughout Europe where its tart berries did little to excite the palate. Fortunes altered radically though with the onset of the Black Death when the acidic fruits were hailed by many as a remedy. Consequently dishes and pies, sauces and preserves suddenly flourished with the wealthy cultivating dozens of different forms. Available in shades of white, green, purple and yellow they ranged from extended oblong to pea-like in shape.
An industry may have been stimulated but there is little evidence to support the plague claims except that the fruits are naturally high in vitamins A and C, and so are generally good for health. Neither is there any evidence to support the once held belief that fairies live under these thorny shrubs despite their alternative common name of Faeberry or Fayberry. Incidentally, this is the origin of the tale that unplanned children emerge from under the Gooseberry bush; it was the fairies who were to blame.
The Perfect Cut
W hen it came to inventions Victorian Britons generally were not shy, except for Edwin Beard Budding. In 1830 he worked in a mill in the Gloucestershire valleys, preparing cloths. While observing the way in which the rotating blades of machinery cut the threads of the cloth Budding allowed his mind to wander.
He secretly, quietly and under cover of darkness recreated the same rotating blades on a hand-powered machine. His stealth owed little to a fear of industrial espionage and more to the fact that his fellow millworkers thought his proposals ridiculous. Finally Budding perfected his invention: it was only 19 inches wide and he called it the lawn mower, which was to transform British lawns and the concept of cultivating grass in the garden.
Until Budding’s invention cutting grass involved teams of men scything the grass sward, an awkward operation that relied on skill and practice. With standard length tools each man of a different height inevitably cut the grass at different lengths; to correct this each wore wooden clogs of a prescribed height to adjust the height of his cut. With Budding’s invention out went labour-intensive teams, rough cuts and any similarity to a meadow; in came the British obsession with stripes and perfect lawns.
A Forgotten Tree
I magine walking under the canopy of a tree known to be 200 million years old, a plant that has remained unchanged and unadulterated since Tyrannosaurus roamed past, Triceratops grazed nearby and Pterosaurs flew overhead. This was a time when flowering plants and their pollinating insects emerged and populated a planet of tropical seas and tempestuous plate tectonics; Gingko biloba, the Maidenhair Tree is such a specimen.
Commonly found in parks and gardens, it is the only remaining member of its genus, which is the only remaining genus in its family, which is the only remaining family in its order, which is the only remaining order in its class. Put bluntly this is not only a living fossil but a unique living fossil tree and botanically a key link between the evolutionary groups of lower plants, the mosses and ferns, and the higher plants, conifers and flowering plants.
As peculiar in appearance as it is in history, it is a broad leaved, deciduous cone-producing tree, the only one remaining. Reaching 40 metres or so in height and with fan-shaped leaves it carries male and female flowers on separate plants.
Quite how this tree, and no other from such distant times remains intact has puzzled botanists, but it shows remarkable resilience to severe climatic alteration and chokingly high levels of pollution, making it something of a cockroach of the plant kingdom.
Once common around the emerging continents it is now confined to small regions of China. Listed today by the International Union for Conservation of Nature on a red list (highly endangered), the number of Gingkos left in the wild is uncertain.
It is held as a sacred tree in both China and Japan; it is said that Confucius recited his texts from under its canopy. It has also long been part of the herbal medicine of these two ancient nations, earning a reputation for focussing the mind and alerting the senses. Modern science has explored the compounds of the plant, identifying the existence of ginkgoflavonglycoside in concentrated forms in the leaves just prior to autumn leaf fall. According to the ancient wisdom of prescribing these parts of the tree to patients the symptoms addressed by gingko extracts include short-term memory loss, dementia, depression, poor circulation, tinnitus, multiple sclerosis, depression, neuralgia and impotence. An impressive list of ailments treated thanks to the effect of the flavone glycoside, which massively increases circulation tissues, improves blood flow and in addition reduces many of the symptoms of ageing centred on memory loss and memory malfunction.
Dahlia and Chips
R ivalries between the Spanish and French courts in the late 1700s almost transformed the British national dish – fish and chips. Introduced to Madrid in 1780 from Mexico, the Dahlia, now amongst the most popular of garden flowers, was grown as a potential food source thought capable of rivalling the potato, which had been introduced a few decades earlier. Championed by the Spanish after their conquests in the highlands of Mexico from the early 1500s an appetite grew to learn more of the exotic species concealed in Mexico. By 1552 Martinus de la Cruz, a student at the Spanish run College of Santa Cruz penned a medicinal text titled An Aztec Herbal. This eventually found its way to Spain and sparked tremendous interest at the Royal Court. King Phillip II of Spain heard rumours of great horticultural riches and despatched Hernández in 1570 on a five-year mission to document the plants and plot the region. Curiously the very text that stimulated such a passion for the flora of Mexico was lost until 1932, when it was rediscovered in the dusty vaults of the Vatican.
Daunted by the task at hand Hernández apparently spent much of his time in and around some of the most royal gardens of Mexico including Hauxtepec, the favoured garden of the captured Aztec Emperor Montezuma. Described as being six miles in circumference with many small gardens devoted to specific functions such as fragrance, fruit, vegetables and medicinal, it epitomised the sophisticated approach of the Aztecs.
From all over the Aztec empire plants were collected and cultivated on this site and many others like it, each new arrival being carefully planted in a ceremony involving the sacrifice of an animal, after which its blood and blood from the ear of a priest were used as a horticultural tonic to aid the plants’ establishment, foreshadowing the current horticultural practice of applying blood and bone as a fertiliser.
After seven years Hernandez returned to Spain with over sixteen volumes of notes and drawings in which he described the Dahlia, at that time referred to locally as ‘cocoxochitl’, meaning ‘hollow stem flower’, or ‘cane flower’ and ‘acocotli’ the ‘water cane’, a reference to the hollow shoots of this towering Mexican wildflower. Despite his diligent efforts Hernández never got to see his work published as he died in 1578 at a time when physical specimens of the prized Dahlia plant had yet to make it across the Atlantic to Europe.
Genocide and the Nutmeg
Nutmeg was popularised by the Arabian nations, trading it as an exotic spice through Constantinople from the sixth century. The popularity of this opulently fragrant seed grew as tales of its aphrodisiac properties swept through Europe; patients were advised to rub it liberally onto the genitals to excite sexual passion. And if that were not sufficient to promote the trade of this woody spice of the evergreen Indonesian native tree Myristica fragrans it was also said to possess mercurial curative properties. From backache to boils, nausea and even the plague, little resisted the power of nutmeg when carried in a pouch or pocket or pomander.
Such a convincing sales pitch fuelled a frenzied search for the plant amongst wealthy Europeans. King James I of England ordered a voyage to claim the plant, without knowing its origins or geographic whereabouts.
While the search continued the European spice trade became more and more brutal as nations struggled for control of this lucrative market. The Dutch fought the Portuguese for control of the island of Run, one of the Banda Islands in the Indonesian archipelago, the main source of nutmeg and mace, massacring, enslaving and eventually exterminating its entire population.
With a near monopoly prices soared, kept artificially high by the Dutch merchants apparently voluntarily torching supplies to avoid markets being flooded. Displaying a nutmeg became the ultimate symbol of wealth. It was added to food as seasoning leading some members of the nobility to carry personalised miniature graters crafted from precious metals.
Eventually the trade was opened up when the French introduced the plant to Mauritius and the British planted it extensively in Singapore, India, Sri Lanka, the West Indies, and Grenada. Often unrecorded are the underground uses of the nutmeg, viewed by many as poor-man’s marijuana. A struggling Charlie Parker, ultimately known as the legendary ‘Bird’, is said to have introduced its narcotic effects to his band apparently advocating its ingestion as a powder with milk or cola.
Roses cross Napoleonic Blockades
E mpress Joséphine of France, the first wife of Napoleon Bonaparte was a passionate gardener with huge aspirations. In 1797, while he was absent on the Egyptian campaign she bought an old, rundown 150-acre estate just 12 kilometres from Paris called the Château de Malmaison. On his return she convinced Napoleon to invest heavily in the renovation of the estate including the remodelling of the extensive grounds.
Joséphine was passionate about natural history and well connected with botanists and collectors of the day so the parkland soon became filled with exotica of the period. Zebra, Antelope, Ostrich and Kangaroo all graced the grounds while orangeries, tropical glasshouses and pineapple houses provided flowers and culinary delights. Many plants introduced into cultivation at the time were first planted at Malmaison including species from Asia and South America. Magnolia, Paeonia, Camellia, Dahlia and Hibiscus all prospered in the pampered environment. The finest explorers were patronised by Joséphine in pursuit of her expanding collection including Nicolas Baudin, famed for his trips to Chile, Peru, the Pacific Islands and Australia from where he introduced 2500 species to Western science.
Perhaps most horticulturally pioneering was Joséphine’s creation of a Rose garden at the heart of her fashionable jardin à l’anglaise. Prior to her passion for the Rose it was largely confined to modest alcoves; her approach centred the Rose in the garden and the Rose garden in the landscape. She was instrumental in the reawakening of the modern gardener’s love of the Rose. This was a time when the old, familiar species of Rosa gallica, Damask and Alba, all close derivatives of wild roses were joined by flamboyant, exotic species from China. Breeding of these new roses led directly to an explosion of garden-worthy plants thanks to the China Rose’s perpetual flowering, vibrant foliage and varied colours. Portland, Bourbon and China Tea roses, so
called because of their fragrance with a hint of tea, are all descendants of plants Joséphine would have been familiar with in her collection.
Within ten years she had amassed some 250 varieties, 120 of them captured in the paintings of her protégé and official artist Pierre-Joseph Redouté.
Unfortunately for Joséphine, the majority of the finest cultivars were being raised in English nurseries and England and France were at war. But Joséphine was notoriously determined and did not let the war or the total blockades on trade and shipping deter her. Records show that any French ships captured by the English were allowed to continue on their voyage if they were carrying consignments of Roses for the gardens at Malmaison, remarkable given the ingrained hostility between the two nations. Perhaps as surprising are accounts of the jardin à l’anglaise name being retained throughout the period despite all reference to English culture being despised in France.
Joséphine’s passion for the Rose should come as no surprise since she was born Marie-Josèphe-Rose Tascher and was always called Rose during her early life. She was forced to adopt the name Joséphine when she met the young Napoleon, who disliked the name Rose.
