by Lee Reich

If there ever was a plant that jumped in and out of the role of “weed”, it must be dandelion. Lawn-lovers despise dandelion because it taints the sought-after, uniform expanse of greenery. Gardeners despise the plant because it robs water and nutrients intended for nearby cultivated plants. Even orchardists frown upon dandelion because it distracts bees from fruit blossoms.

Add to these transgressions a plant that is perennial, tough, and seeds all summer long. What a weed!

Hoeing or mowing hardly fazes dandelion. The thick, deep roots are a storehouse of energy that fuels growth of new leaves each time you lop off the old ones. And the leaves grow in a rosette close enough to the ground to escape the whirling blades of your mower. Only the seed stalks raise their necks above the ground, high enough so that the parachuted seeds can catch the wind and bring dandelions to life elsewhere.

There are weedkillers effective against dandelion, but digging out whole roots is a satisfying way of getting rid of the plants. Just slide a shovel into the ground next to the plant, then lever the root up as you pull on the crown. The British kill their dandelions by making up a mixture, by weight, of 5 parts sand, 2 parts ammonium sulfate, and 1 part iron sulfate. One teaspoon on the crown of a plant innocuously does it in.

Easier than eradicating dandelion might be to change your perception of it. For centuries, this plant has been praised for its health-promoting properties. The leaves are richer in calcium than milk, richer in vitamin A than carrots, and compare with spinach in iron, as well as with oranges in vitamin C. The botanical name, Taraxacum officinale, tells it all: Taraxacum derives from the ancient words Taraxos (disorder) and Akos (remedy), and officinale signifies that dandelion was in the “official” list of medicinal plants.

Recognizing the healthful properties, the ease of growth, and the good flavor (when grown well) of dandelion, market gardeners in various parts of the world started actually cultivating the plant about 150 years ago. Catalogs of the last century list such varieties as French Large-leaved, French Thick-leaved, Moss-leaved, Red-seeded, and American Improved. Some of these varieties are still available today.

Whether you grow dandelion in the garden or just harvest it from the wild, the plant has many uses. (Make sure any plants that you eat are not from lawns or fields treated with pesticide.) The youngest leaves in the center of the rosette are tasty enough for fresh salads or to boil up as a “green”. To make the leaves more tender and less bitter, with some sacrifice in nutritional value, keep them in the dark under an inverted flowerpot for a week before harvest.

No need to throw away those roots you wrench from your garden or lawn. Once cleaned, they can be boiled up like parsnips. Or roast them, grind them, and brew up a “coffee” just like that made from roasted chicory roots.

The flowers are edible in many ways. Chop them into an omelette, using about a cup of blossoms for every three eggs. Or make a soup, simmering 2 cups of chopped blossoms in a quart of milk, along with sauteed onions, 2 tablespoons of flour for thickening, and salt and pepper to taste. Or make dandelion wine, by first pouring a boiling mixture of either honey or sugar and water over the flowers. Add flavorings such as orange, lemon, and ginger, then fermentation yeast, and let the mix ferment for at least two months.

You can even eat the unopened flower buds, pickling them like capers. Boil the buds for 5 minutes, then strain and pack them into jars. Make up a boiling solution of a cup each of water and vinegar, along with 1/4 cup brown sugar and some dill seed and garlic, and pour it over the buds. Put the sealed jars aside for a month.

You might even grow to appreciate the cheery flowers just for their looks. A lawn greening up in spring is, you must admit, a perfect backdrop for the sunbursts of yellow blossoms.

The seed heads are, admittedly, not very attractive, but worth having just for the delight they bring to children. My daughter was sufficiently enthralled by both the seed heads and the flowers so that one summer she ran about picking and blowing on the seed heads to purposely sow the seeds. Her efforts paid off in the rich crop of yellow flowers now blanketing part of the lawn.

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Lee Reich, PhD (www.leereich.com) is a garden and orchard consultant; he hosts workshops at his New Paltz farmden, which is a test site for innovative techniques in soil care, pruning, and growing fruits and vegetables.