It’s About Thyme

I’m way behind on posting past articles from my Globe & Mail column. This profile of thyme was published on July 19, 2010. I thought I’d go with it first since the article set to be published this coming Saturday is a profile of another favourite garden herb: sage.

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Most of the country, including Toronto, has just now survived a heat wave. It was hot, especially out on the roof garden, my little piece of heaven turned to hell by the scorching sun. It was only inhabitable after dark – we spent the week offering emergency critical plant care by flashlight.

In that heat, some containers required watering three times per day! The lettuces, violas (miraculously still alive), and even typically resilient basil and tomatoes growing in larger pots put up a fuss of dramatic fainting, fretting, and impromptu wilting when the heat was at its worst. My once lush and healthy lemon tree mysteriously dropped all of its leaves on one side. But trusty, tough-as-nails thyme never once complained. I simply shifted a few pots into slightly less intense sun and it was business as usual.

For a tiny plant, thyme has got it all – looks, an easy going nature, a deliciously warm aroma, a pungent, complicated flavour, and it makes an impact in a cramped space. It is one of only a few edibles that can survive a full growing season in the 4” transplant pot it came home in. In fact, thyme will grow just about anywhere and in anything. In the wild, thyme grows among rocks in very free-draining and poor, often sandy soil.

It’s a very hardy plant that can survive a cold zone 4 winter, as long as the soil is not dense or soggy. I inexplicably lost several plants in my community garden’s premium soil, until I finally hit on the key – thyme simply will not tolerant life in wet soil through a wet winter. This plant doesn’t do nutrient rich, gorgeous soil well. To keep it alive, add lots of rock, sand or grit to increase your soil drainage in-ground. I recently visited a garden filled with happy thyme, all grown directly on top of driveway gravel!

Soil drainage is generally easier to achieve in pots. Most thyme varieties will adapt to pots too small or difficult for anything but cacti and succulents as long as there are lots of holes for water to flow straight out. Potted plants won’t survive outside year-round throughout most parts of Canada but a little pot in a sunny window can provide some fresh greenery here and there until it is warm enough to go back out in the early spring. Otherwise it is new transplants each year. Don’t bother growing from seed unless you intend to grow a lot of any one variety.

Speaking of variety, thyme is an incredibly versatile herb and far beyond the woody and pungent common type (Thymus vulgaris) available at most grocery stores. I’ve got about 12 varieties in a surprising breadth of flavours, smells, colours, and growth forms growing on my roof right now, yet my collection if far from complete.

Next to the common English thyme, deliciously fragrant lemon and lime citrus types (Thymus x citrodorus) are probably most popular and widely available in garden shops and corner markets. There are several varieties that qualify in this category – they come in shades of green, gold, variegated gold ‘Aureus’, and variegated silver ‘Silver Lemon Queen’. ‘Doone Valley’ is very low growing, with round, green leaves spattered with pale gold and cream. ‘Orange Balsam’ and ‘Orange Spice’ have a sweet and spicy orange peel smell and pointy leaves that strike me as a bit conifer-like.

Next up are the creepers: Mother-of-thyme (Thymus serphyllum), Thymus ‘Coccineus’, and woolly thyme (Thymus psuedolanuginosus). They aren’t particularly edible, but they make an aromatic, drought tolerant lawn alternative that you can actually walk on. There are also very diminutive types that form a soft, plush carpet over and between cracks in cement and stone walls. If you’re going to go this route, be sure to grow several varieties together so that you have different textures, smells, and flower colours in bloom together and at varying intervals.

The most compelling are the mimics; thyme plants that smell convincingly like other herbs. I’m currently growing ‘Lavender’, ‘Nutmeg’, ‘Oregano’, ‘Caraway’ (Thymus herba-barona), and ‘Rose Petal’. While I am still finding culinary uses for some of the more unusual flavours, I’ve found that all types seem to pair well with onions. Roast a couple of summer onions in the oven along with thyme leaves and stems, and a splash of olive oil. Don’t forget to dry a few sprigs at the season’s end so you can enjoy this warming dish through the winter.

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Essence Fragile

We’ve finally had all of the film from our Caribbean trip developed and I now have the arduous task of scanning it all before the end of September (27th), when I will be giving a presentation, here in Toronto, of some of the botanical images.

I took this photo while on a tour of an organic farm in Bellvue Chopin — the one with the cute land turtles pictured here.

The plant is Polygala paniculata, also known as ‘Essence Fragile’ in Dominica. It’s a medicinal herb that is often added to baby’s bathwater as it is believed to help their bones “knit.”

The roots smell of fresh wintergreen!

You can see mountain in the background of this photo. Mountains are in the background of every photo I took in Dominica, unless I was facing the coast. Mountains, mountains everywhere. No matter where you are on the island, you are always going either up or down a steep hill. And it is always hot and incredibly humid. It made San Francisco seem like a cakewalk.

Imagine farming in 365 days-a-year heat and humidity, with access to few resources, weeds that NEVER stop growing, and all on steep hills, no less. I’ve seen mountainside, terraced farming once before (Agave in Oaxaca Mexico), but the logistics of farming in Dominica still came as a shock.

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Dragonfly

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

I was surprised by a beautiful Green Darner (Anax junius) the other day while moving some pots on the roof. I must have been out there puttering around for two hours before I noticed it quietly resting on a white sage (Salvia apiana) plant. I hope it caught some mosquitoes.

This isn’t our first dragonfly visit of the year. It’s always surprising who and what will find our little oasis in the sky. More of these and less raccoons please.

On the white sage: It’s not hardy here in Toronto, but I’ve managed to overwinter this one successfully over several seasons now by simply cutting it back hard and forgetting about it. You know, I’m not really much of a fan at this size — they are much more beautiful when they are grown as bushes, but alas I can’t really achieve that here without a bigger pot and more space. I’ve kept it in a sunny window giving it water here and there through the winter and I’ve set it in the hallway where it is cold, the windows are north-facing, and it received almost no attention. We even went away for a month last winter and friends were not instructed to water it. This plant lives on no matter what.

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Lavandula angustifolia ‘Hidcote’ (Polaroids)

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

I’ve spent the last month steeped in lavender. I’ve photographed several different varieties, harvested and hung it to dry, and have experimented with ways to cook with it. I have spent hours carefully removing fresh and dried flowers from stalks.

My favourite variety is ‘Hidcote’, a hardy, blue, dwarf lavender with an intensely sweet, bright, and robust aroma and flavour. It smells and tastes so delicious — none of the varieties I have worked with can compare. So when I had a chance to go out to the country and visit a garden that includes a massive mounding bed of ‘Hidcote’ lavender I jumped at the chance.

Thanks to Jessica Hibbard for the crazy, out-of-date Polaroid film.

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Making More Herbs

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

About a month ago, I wrote a guest post for Apartment Therapy/Re-Nest on propagating herbs by cuttings. This is how I quickly double my basil harvest every summer at no extra cost. Basil grows easily from seed too, but stem cuttings are fast and easy — they’ll produce roots in water in about a week or two! By mid-summer my collection of scented geraniums (Pelargoniums) are huge! Why not take a few cuttings and share the wealth with friends?

On the Re-Nest site someone asked a question about taking cuttings from bolting plants. I have not been able to post a comment so I am adding a reply here.

SoRad: We grow basil like an annual in colder climates, but in tropical conditions the plant is a perennial. There are also varieties of basil that are reproduced by cuttings only… they don’t produce seed. Some basil varieties bolt quickly and constantly, while others only do-so when the weather gets really hot.

Bolting when it comes to basil is more about the conditions a particular variety prefers rather than “age.” It is better to take cuttings from plants that aren’t under heat-stress, but I have found that it can be done successfully — your best bet is to move the rooting cuttings to a cooler spot.

Read more…

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