Now, right off the bat, I have to admit that there is nothing really curious about Chicory. The curiosity is in my own mind and my fond memory of my father. 
Isn't the blue of Chicory a lovely shade. Be warned --if you want to put it in a corner of your garden it won't stay there. It is a wild and crazy spreader.
And if you aren't familiar with this 'weed' but know the name 'Chicory' this is indeed the plant whose roots are dried and ground then added to coffee for the unique flavor it adds. It is very popular in the deep south.
Referring to my old Rodale Herb Book I learned that the French are very fond of chicory in their coffee. It can also be used just as a brewed chicory beverage.
Now quoting from the book:
"Chicory was ascribed a variety of medicinal uses--including a tonic, laxative, and diuretic. Ancient herbals suggest bruised chicory leaves as a poultice for swellings, inflammations, and inflamed eyes. A decoction of one ounce of dried powdered root to a pint of water was recommended for jaundice and general liver ailments. Blanched, the leaves can be used in salads."
My favorite thing about chicory is still the color.
11 comments:
I remember going fishing with your dad. We didn't do it often but what I remember about those trips is that the fish were always biting on your dads side of the boat and never on my side even if we changed sides. He always used his cane pole and I used modern stuff.
Well, there you have it. Sometimes new isn't better, just new. There is something about a very long cane pole. It seems very sensitive to the slightest nibble.
Chicory blooming is an event for me too, but it is primarily because of the color. It is one of my favorite shades of blue.
I never heard that connection with Grandpa and fishing. I'll think of that now every year when the chicory bloom. :)
I guess I haven't told all my Dad stories yet. I agree the color is just lovely. I forgot to include the quandary of getting out to the highway early enough to take the pictures. The flowers always close up by noon. I didn't remember that at first and thought the flowers were really short lived this year.
I think ours last a little past noon. Must be the difference in latitude. :)
Latitude or perhaps time difference. Our noon is your 1 o'clock. The flowers aren't that savy with our ideas of time, they probably figure the sun is straight overhead time to fold up. I've never understood why we are Central time.
There are fields of this flower in the coastal hills where I live, and their bright blue blooms line the roads. I had NO idea that's what it was!
I love your story about your Dad. How precious.
Beth,
Don't you love it when 'now you know'.
My Dad was a wonderful sweet character. Were you reading my blog in June when I did a Father's Day tribute to him. I even had a clip of him playing the banjo.
I'm so glad to know it's called chicory. For some reason I always want to call it cornflower- maybe that was a shade of crayon. chicory and queen anne's lace are two of my favorite flowers, along with another you see on the roadside, milkthistle, I think.
i do love your voice. I forgot to check out the one about your dad, hope I can still access it. Your story reminds me of fishing with my dad down at the river, when I was five or so. I caught a four lb bass off our boat house! Lucky it didn't pull me in! Thanks for this, Barb. See you w/ Altos!
I've been watching a chickory plant we've been growing. It's approaching 7 foot tall now.
Nice post.
Hello Merch,
So nice to see you here. I am so pleased to have given you the name of the flower you enjoy so much. Now you can feel comfortable addressing the flowers properly. I am sure your memories of fishing with your dad are also dear to you.
Greetings Dmark,
A seven foot chicory must be very impressive. Flutemaker and I let a Thistle grow in our garden one year and it was huge. I'll bet it was at least 7 ft tall and about 4 or 5 feet wide. We were very careful to not let it go to seed. Stop by again when you get a chance.
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