Tea Time

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Tea Time: Kentucky Coffeetree

Learning to identify Kentucky coffeetree in the winter brings you one step closer to making a coffee-like (albeit caffeine-free) beverage from its seeds. Humans have a long history of occasionally using the “beans” of Gymnocladus dioicus to make this tisane, which explains common names like coffeetree, American coffee berry, and coffeenut. The process is a bit time consuming, and the end result is mixed, but foraging adventures like this are all about the experience. This drink is not likely to replace whatever you are currently drinking in the morning, but it does offer an interesting diversion.

fruit of Kentucky coffeetree (Gymnocladus dioicus)

Winter is the best time to collect the pods, which are flat, leathery, brown to black in color, and about 2 inches wide and 6 inches long. The stocky fruits are often found hanging from the tips of the tree’s bare branches. Many also fall to the ground over the course of the season, making them easier to collect. If you split the pods open early in the season, you’ll find the seeds embedded in a sticky, neon green goo that will stick to your hands and clothes. As the year progresses, the glue-like substance dries out and is easier to deal with. The seeds are dark, extremely hard, rounded and flattened, and about the size of a penny or nickel. The funiculus, which is a short stalk that connects the ovule/seed to the ovary, tends to be fairly prominent and something you don’t often get to see on seeds.

inside the fruit of a Kentucky coffeetree

Once you’ve collected several pods and removed the seeds from the gooey innards, soak the seeds for an hour or two and then rinse them, making sure to remove dried up goo and any remaining funiculi. Pat the seeds dry and place them in a baking dish with a lid for roasting. The roasting process is said to eliminate the toxicity of the seeds. The lid is important because several of the seeds will pop open during roasting and will fly around in your oven if they aren’t contained.

The fruits of Kentucky coffeetree contain a toxic compound called cytisine, an alkaloid that is similar in action to nicotine. The Handbook of Poisonous and Injurious Plants by Nelson, et al. states that “the cytisine content of the seeds is quite low; and chewing one or two would not be expected to produce toxic effects.” Actually, the bigger risk of chewing one of these rock hard seeds is breaking your teeth. Cytisine poisoning includes typical symptoms like diarrhea and vomiting; in extreme cases it can lead to coma and death. If the seeds are properly roasted, you won’t have to worry about any of this, but as with anything you are trying for the first time, start with small amounts.

seeds of Kentucky coffeetree

Times and temperatures for roasting vary depending on who you’re getting your information from. I went with 300° F for 3 hours (which ended up being 3 and a half hours because I forgot to take them out in time). One source suggested roasting the seeds for only 2 hours for better flavor, but I decided to err on the side of caution and roast them for longer. Many of the seeds will have popped open during the roasting process. For those that haven’t you will need to use a nutcracker or some other comparable tool to crack the seed coat and remove the insides. Dispose of the seed coats and grind the remaining bits into a fine powder using either a coffee grinder or mortar and pestle. You’ll end up with a fine, chocolate-colored powder which you will use to make your “coffee.”

You can prepare this beverage in the same way you would typically choose to make coffee, but keep in mind that upon adding water, the fine grounds quickly turn to a mud-like substance and will block up the filter you are using. For this reason, I recommend small batches. I found Kentucky coffeetree “coffee” to be very earthy and rich and somewhat similar to strong black coffee. Sierra tried it and immediately exclaimed, “That’s nice!” and then proceeded to give it two thumbs up. Some people like black coffee. I added cream to it and found it much more pleasant to drink. Other people don’t think this beverage tastes like coffee at all and instead call it tea-like, chocolaty, fruity, or “akin to mud,” among other more negative reviews. I think it’s a drink that could grow on me, but considering the effort it takes to make one cup, I don’t see that happening any time soon.

Kentucky coffeetree “coffee grounds”

Have you tried making “coffee” from the seeds of Kentucky coffeetree? Let us know what you think about it in the comment section below.

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2021: Year in Review

Last year at this time I was newly married in a new home that Sierra and I had just bought together. The year flew by, as they often do, and we’re back around to another Year in Review. Home ownership (among other things) has kept us busy. If you follow this blog, you may have noticed that posts were a bit more sparse than usual. That probably won’t change much going forward, but even if takes me some time to get around to posting, I plan to keep this blog going for the foreseeable future. There are still so many plants to investigate and botanical topics to explore. I hope you will follow along, even when posts are few and far between.

The big news of the day is that Sierra and I recently added a new member to our family. Not a human, but a dog. Her name is Kōura, and I would expect her to make an appearance from time to time both here on the blog as well as on our various social media accounts. We are excited for the many adventures we’ll be having with her in the months and years to come, and can’t wait to introduce her to the world.

Kōura in the snow on Christmas Day 2021

As Awkward Botany enters its tenth year, I feel incredibly grateful for everyone who has supported it along the way. To everyone who has bothered to read a post, leave a comment, share the blog with a friend, and reach out to me by various means, I appreciate you all for participating in my silly, little, plant project. Plant people are the best. Luckily, supporting Awkward Botany is easy. Apart from reading and commenting on the blog, there are social media accounts to follow, monetary donations to make (no pressure), and books to buy from our Bookshop. All relevant links can be found on Awkward Botany’s linktree (link below). Let’s stay phytocurious in 2022!

Awkward Botany Linktree

And now…

A Selection of Posts from 2021

Winter Trees and Shrubs

Book Reviews

Weeds of Boise

Eating Weeds

Drought Tolerant Plants

Tea Time

Awkward Botanical Sketches

Podcast Reviews

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Tea Time: Linden Flower Tea

Lindens make great trees for urban areas. A few species and hybrids in particular are commonly planted in parks, yards, and along the streets of cities across the northern hemisphere and have been for decades – centuries even. They cast dense shade, are tolerant of a variety of climates and soil conditions, and are generally easy to maintain. For much of the year as you move throughout the city you live in, you likely pass by dozens of lindens without thinking twice about them. They are ubiquitous, conventional, ordinary, common. Unless they’re in bloom. For a few weeks in early to mid-summer, flowering lindens produce an impossibly sweet fragrance that can’t be ignored. Along with the scent comes the sound of hundreds of buzzing bees collecting pollen and nectar from the pendulous blooms.

Lindens are trees and shrubs in the family Malvaceae and genus Tilia. Around 30 or so species are found in temperate regions across the northern hemisphere, mostly in Europe and Asia. Depending on who you ask, there are between one and three species native to North America. Tilia caroliniana and Tilia heterophylla are considered by some to be varieties of Tilia americana, or American basswood, which is distributed across central and eastern United States and north into parts of Canada. Another common name for linden is lime because words used to refer to the tree in older languages were similar to the word lime. The name basswood comes from the tree’s fibrous inner bark, known as bast.

Linden leaves are generally heart-shaped and asymmetrical with serrate margins. Small clusters of little yellow to white flowers form at the end of a slender stem attached to a narrow, ribbon-like, yellow-green bract. The bract aids in seed dispersal by helping the fruits float on the wind away from the parent tree in a manner similar to the samaras of maple trees. The fruits are small, round, hardened drupes that resemble little peas. The fragrant, nectar-rich flowers are not only favored by beekeepers for honey production, but also have a long history of being harvested for making tea (i.e. tisane). Linden flower tea is said to have a number of medicinal uses and health benefits, all of which I take with a grain of salt. This series of posts isn’t meant to be an investigation into the health claims of plants, but instead an opportunity for me – out of sheer curiosity – to try making tea out of a variety of different plants . If medicinal uses interest you, I encourage you to seek out credible, peer-reviewed sources.

I made linden flower tea from flowers I collected from Tilia cordata, commonly known as littleleaf linden. It was an easy one to find due to its popularity as an urban tree. The natural distribution of littleleaf linden extends from Britain across Europe and into western Asia. Its triangular-ovate shaped leaves are 4-10 centimeters long, glossy green on top, and pale green on the bottom with tufts of orange hairs along the leaf veins, concentrated at the base of the leaf where the leaf blade meets the petiole. The tree can reach up to 21 meters tall and has an oval or rounded-pyramidal shape, though many trees in urban areas are cultivars and can be smaller and more compact.

I harvested the flowers – bracts and all – in late June. It’s advised that they not be harvested directly after a rain (or after being hit by sprinklers), and that they are harvested when the flowers are newly opened. I presume this is because the flowers are at their freshest at this point and will be the best for making tea. I layed the flowers out to dry on a clean kitchen towel on top of a metal cake rack. It only takes 2 or 3 days for them to dry. After drying I removed and saved all the flowers and threw out the bracts and stems, but apparently you can use the entire inflorescence if you’d like.

There are several linden flower tea recipes online. I went with 3 cups of boiling water poured over 1 tablespoon dried linden flowers, covered and steeped for 15 minutes. The resulting tea was an appealing pastel yellow color. I tried it plain as well as sweetened with a little bit of honey. I preferred it sweetened, but unsweetened wasn’t too bad, just a little bitter. It has a floral taste and pleasant smell. Sierra said it tasted earthy, like something she wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Despite that odd review, she said she liked it. Since several sources discussed the calming, sleep-inducing effects of the tea, I made sure to drink it in the evening when it would be normal for me to be feeling sleepy. I suggest you do the same.

More Tea Time Posts on Awkward Botany

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2020: Year in Review

This past year was certainly not the year that any of us hoped it would be. We all know why, so there’s no reason to get into it here. Point being, posts on Awkward Botany were a bit fewer and further between in 2020. My day job kept me busier than usual, and my motivation to do much else was pretty much zapped. Regardless, I’m still pleased with what I was able to put out into the world. I’m particularly excited about my new Weeds of Boise project, in which I attempt to catalog the wild urban flora of my hometown. Expect more of that in 2021.

Certainly the biggest news of 2020 is that Sierra (a.k.a. Idaho Plant Doctor) and I bought a house! We started looking in earnest late last summer and weren’t having much luck. Just as we were considering putting our dreams on hold for a bit, we came across a little house in a neighborhood we love. The house was perfect for us, with a big pollinator garden out front and a series of garden boxes in various locations around the property, along with a nice chicken coop (five chickens included!). It was a tiny urban farm looking for new owners, and we were the chosen ones! I like to think that we bought a garden, and it came with a house. This year will be a year of discovery as we watch the yard come to life and fulfill our dream of having a garden of our own. We will definitely keep you posted.

But that’s not all. On the 1st of January, Sierra and I got married in a tiny ceremony in our new backyard. We had planned on getting married in the fall of 2020, but the pandemic quickly put those plans to rest. Now, with a place of our own and a desire to put a tough year behind us, we started the new year off on a positive note. With a number of precautions in place, we were able to celebrate the start of our new lives together with some of our close friends and family. Despite it being the middle of winter, the weather was perfect for our little outdoor gathering. The love and generosity we were shown from so many people that weekend is something we will never forget. 

two nerds getting married

What follows are the usual items found in a Year in Review post – ways you can follow Awkward Botany on social media, links to donate monetarily to Awkward Botany (no pressure), and posts from 2020 that are part of new and ongoing series of posts. New in 2021 is the Awkward Botany Bookshop. Bookshop is a site that makes it possible to purchase books online and support local bookstores in the process. When you buy books through Awkward Botany’s page, we receive a small percentage of the sale, which helps us continue to put out more of the plant nerdy content you’ve come to expect. There is a small selection of books in the store now, and I’ll continue to add more, so check back often. If there are books you’d like me to add to the store, please let me know. 

Follow Awkward Botany on Social Media:

Donate to Awkward Botany:

A Selection of Awkward Botany Posts from 2020

Botany in Popular Culture

Zine and Book Reviews

Weeds of Boise

Tea Time

Podcast Reviews

Awkward Botanical Sketches

Winter Trees and Shrubs

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Tea Time: Lemon Balm Tea

Cooler weather has me thinking about hot tea again. This time around I decided to go with something I’ve already tried and know that I like. Despite the fact that lemon balm can be quite abundant and readily available, I don’t really drink it that often. Yet, considering claims made regarding its calming nature, this is definitely the year to have it.

lemon balm (Melissa officinalis)

Melissa officinalis is an herbaceous perennial native to the Mediterranean Basin and beyond. It has been widely planted outside of its native range and has become naturalized – some might say weedy – in many parts of the world. It self-sows easily and also spreads readily via stolons and/or rhizomes. It isn’t picky about soil type and grows well in both sun and part shade. Lemon balm is in the mint family and acts in a similarly aggresive way to some of its relatives, but luckily isn’t nearly as tenacious as mint in its tendency to dominate a garden bed.

The leaves of lemon balm have a wrinkled appearance, are triangular or wedge-shaped with toothed margins, and are arranged oppositely on square stems up to three feet tall. Small, white or pale yellow (sometimes pale pink) flowers are inconspicuous and produced in the axils of leaves. They are often sparse enough to be hardly noticeable. This plant’s aesthetic appeal is all about its pleasant and prolific green foliage. Yet, despite the simplicity of its flowers, lemon balm is known for being attractive to bees and is often propagated specifically to feed honeybees. In fact, the genus name Melissa apparently means honeybee in Ancient Greek.

lemon balm flower

The leaves of lemon balm can be consumed fresh or dried and have a number of other uses besides tea. They have a sweet, lemon-like scent and, like so many other herbs with a long history of human use, have a wide array of medicinal claims associated with them. Many sources agree on lemon balm’s ability to calm the nerves, reduce stress and anxiety, and fight off insomnia. According to The Herb Society of America’s Essential Guide to Growing and Cooking with Herbs, lemon balm “has been used as a relaxing agent and as an aid to restful, nightmare-free sleep.” Sounds like I could use more lemon balm in my life.

dried lemon balm leaves

Lemon balm tea can be made with either fresh or dried leaves, but fresh leaves seem to make a more flavorful tea. I had only tried tea made from dried leaves until recently and have decided that I prefer fresh leaves. Simply harvest a few leaves, cut or tear them apart to release the lemony flavor, place them in a cup, and cover them in hot water. Some recipes (like this one) suggest adding honey, while others mix lemon balm with additional herbs known for their lemon-like flavor or relaxing nature (lemon thyme and lemon verbena, for example). Sierra was immediately taken by lemon balm tea when she tried it – in contrast to her experience with violet leaf tea – and even said it was right up there with her preferred black teas. I’m not surprised, as it is one of my favorite teas as well.

lemon balm tea made with freshly harvested leaves

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Tea Time: Violet Leaf Tea

The genus Viola is large and widespread. Its flowers are easily recognizable and obviously popular. A significant number of Viola species, hybrids, and cultivars are commercially available and commonly planted in flower beds and container gardens. Certain species have even become weeds – vicious lawn invaders in some people’s opinion. Violets (or pansies in some cases) are also edible. Their leaves and/or flowers can be used in salads, drinks, and desserts. One way to use the leaves is to make tea, so that’s what I did.

I imagine you can make tea from any Viola species, but after some searching I found that two species frequently mentioned are Viola odorata and Viola sororia – two very similar looking plants, one from the Old World and the other from the New World.

sweet violet (Viola odorata)

Viola odorata – commonly known as sweet violet, wood violet, or English violet – is distributed across Europe and into Asia and has been widely introduced outside of its natural range. It has round, oval, or heart-shaped leaves with toothed margins that grow from the base of the plant, giving it a groundcover-type habit. Its flowers range from dark purple to white and are borne atop a single stem that curves downward at the top like a shepherd’s crook. It has no leafy, upright stems, and it spreads horizontally via stolons and rhizomes. The flowers are distinctly fragrant and have a long history of being used in perfumes.

One way to get a good whiff of these flowers is to try a trick described in the book The Reason for Flowers by Stephen Buchmann:

Go into a garden or any natural area and select one or more flowers you want to investigate…. Select a small, thoroughly washed and dried glass jar with a tight-fitting lid. Place just one type of flower in the jar. Set your jar in a warm, sunny place such as a windowsill and come back in an hour or two. Carefully open the lid and sniff…. If you’ve selected a blossom with even the faintest scent, you should be able to smell it now, since the fragrance molecules have concentrated inside the jar.

sweet violet flowers inside glass jar

Viola sororia – native to eastern North America –  is also commonly planted outside of its native range. It’s clearly a favorite, having earned the distinction of state flower in four U.S. states. Known as the common blue violet (or myriad other commons names), it looks and acts a lot like sweet violet. I distinguish them by their flowers, which are wider and rounder (chunkier, perhaps) than sweet violet flowers, and their leaves, which are generally more heart-shaped. Feel free to correct me. If, like me, you’re having trouble identifying violets, keep in mind that Viola species are highly variable and notorious hybridizers, so don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s their fault, not yours.

common blue violet (Viola sororia)

Violets bloom when the air is cool and the days are short. They are among the earliest plants to flower after the new year and among the latest plants flowering as the year comes to a close. In his entry on violets in The Book of Forest and Thicket, John Eastman refers to these early bloomers as “this low, blue flame in the woods.” They are like “a pilot light that ignites the entire burst of resurrection we call spring.” I can’t really picture spring without them. I find their unique flowers so intriguing that I fixate on them whenever I see them. And once I learned that I could make a tea out of their leaves, I had to try it.

I used the leaves of Viola odorata (or what I, with my amateur skills, identified as V. odorata). I picked several of what looked to be young leaves and left them to dry in the sun for several days. Later, I chopped them up and brewed a tea according to the instructions found on this website, which suggests using one tablespoon of dried leaves in sixteen ounces of water. Apparently, a little goes a long way, and I probably could have used fewer leaves than I did.

dried, chopped up leaves of sweet violet (Viola odorata) for making tea

The tea has a nice green color and smells a bit like grass to me. It may even taste like grass. I found it fairly bitter. Sierra didn’t like it and called it musty. I enjoyed it, but would likely enjoy it more if I hadn’t made it quite so strong. The aforementioned website also recommends combining violet leaf with other things like mint, dandelion, clover, and/or chamomile. I imagine a combination of ingredients could be better than just violet leaf on its own. Another site warns that “some of the wild violets have an unpleasant soapy flavor,” so that’s something to keep in mind when selecting your leaves for tea and other things. Either way, violet leaf tea is an experience worth having.

See Also: Pine Needle Teas

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Tea Time: Pine Needle Teas

Temperatures are cooling in the northern hemisphere, which has me looking forward to drinking more hot tea. Making tea is a simple way to try edible plants you’ve never tried before, which I have demonstrated in past posts about pineapple weed and chicory. Believe it or not, I’m interested in trying teas made from other plants besides weeds, which has led me to start a new series of posts. It’s tea time!

When you think of a pine tree, your first thought probably isn’t, “Hey, I could make some tea out of that.” Sure, pine trees are known for their pleasant scent; however, do you really want a tea that tastes like a Christmas tree or smells like the cleanser you mop your floors with? A mouthful of pine needles just doesn’t sound that appetizing. Luckily, tea made with pine needles has a considerably milder aroma and flavor than you might initially expect.

the needles of Japanese red pine (Pinus densiflora)

Pines actually have a number of edible parts. Young, male cones can be boiled and eaten, pine pollen can be used in a number of ways, and roasted pine seeds (also known as pine nuts) are commonly consumed and used to make things like pesto and hummus. In addition, the inner bark, sap, and resin all have a history of being used as food and medicine. So, why not the needles?

However, it should be noted that turpentine comes from pine trees, which is quite toxic if ingested or used improperly. Turpentine is made by distilling the sap and resins found in pine trees. The high concentration of the chemical compounds found in these products is what results in turpentine’s toxicity.

Another caveat is that the word “pine” is used as a common name for a few species that are not in the genus Pinus and thus are not true pines. Also, coniferous trees and shrubs are frequently referred to as or thought of as pines by people who aren’t in the know. Hence, always make sure that you positively identify any and all plant species before you consume them. Additionally, various sources advise avoiding the consumption of ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa) and a handful of other pines, which may in fact be perfectly safe in moderation, but the counsel is worth keeping in mind.

To drill these points home, consider this passage from The North American Guide to Common Poisonous Plants and Mushrooms:

Most [conifers] would be too strong-tasting and unpalatable to eat, but many can be used safely as flavorings or to make beverages and medicinal teas, as long as they are taken in moderation and in low concentrations. Exceptions are the yews (Taxus spp.), which are highly toxic, and ponderosa pine, a tree of dry western forests with long needles usually in clusters of three. Some indigenous people ate the inner bark and seeds of this pine, but they knew that pregnant women should not chew on the buds or needles because it would cause a miscarriage. Eating the foliage of this pine is known to cause abortion in late-term pregnant cattle and other livestock due to the presence of isocupressic acid, which has also been found in lodgepole pine (P. contorta) and Jeffrey pine (P. jeffreyi). Other pines, such as loblolly pine (P. taeda) of the southeastern United States should also be regarded with caution.

I chose to make tea from the needles of two species that have a long history of being used for this purpose: Korean or Japanese red pine (Pinus densiflora) and eastern white pine (Pinus strobus). Pinus densiflora occurs in Korea and Japan, as well as parts of China and Russia, and has been given the name red pine thanks to its attractive red-orange bark. It produces needles in bundles of two and is a member of the subgenus Pinus, also known as the hard pines. Pinus strobus occurs mainly in the northeastern corner of the United States and the southeastern corner of Canada. It’s a member of the soft pines (subgenus Strobus) and produces needles in bundles of five. Both of these trees (and various cultivars of them) are commonly grown ornamentally outside of their native ranges.

the bark of Japanese red pine (Pinus densiflora)

To make the tea, I collected a handful of needles, chopped them in half or thirds and steeped them in hot water. Various sources that I read said not to boil the needles. The teas had a mild pine scent and a light citrusy flavor. I first made a tea from eastern white pine needles and accidentally added too much water. On my second try, using Korean red pine needles, I got the ratio better, and the tea didn’t taste so watered down. Some people add honey to pine needle tea, which I didn’t try this time around because I wanted to experience the taste of the needles. However, I think honey would be a nice addition.

Younger needles are said to be better than older needles for making tea, and I imagine that the time of year that the needles are harvested could have an impact on the flavor. The age of the needles likely determines, in part, its amount of vitamin C as well. Pine needle tea is said to be high in Vitamin C, which is another reason to give it a try.

the needles of eastern white pine (Pinus strobus)

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