Author: tinyponyapothecary

I admit, there are times I’ve been a naughty daughter.

My lovely parents have visited me in every backwoods, hard-to-find, takes-ages-to-get-to location I’ve ever called home, and they even seemed to enjoy themselves. But several summers ago, when I was living in North Carolina nestled against some pretty blue mountains, I grew a big garden, herbs outnumbering vegetables 2:1. And as we were moseying through the chamomile, calendula, and spilanthes, what do you think I did?

Yeah, you guessed. I gave my folks each a big old spilanthes eyeball flower to chew on. My mom made a face that reminded me of Stimpy and said, “Something’s wrong with my mouth.” My dad gamely chewed the thing, because he’s a Taurus and one of the sturdiest people on earth. The tingling only lasts five minutes, folks, I’m not totally cruel.­­

This winter, I’ve been going through my apothecary bottles of spilanthes tincture as, one by one, the people around me fall prey to colds, flus, and an astounding number of instances of food poisoning. It’s been such a gnarly winter, my sweetheart has been asking for the spilanthes instead of only taking it when I push it, although maybe he’s not a good sample since he also adores brussel sprouts and organ meats (obviously we were made for each other).

But enough about me. Let’s talk about spilanthes.

 

ETHNOBOTANY & TRADITIONAL USE

60 species of spilanthes are endemic to tropical and subtropical regions from India to Brazil, with 6 different species used medicinally and Spilanthes acmella being one of the most studied species in this genus, which is in the Aster Family. Literature on a variety of traditional medicine practices shows centuries of cultivation of the spilanthes genus for horticultural, medicinal, insecticidal, and culinary purposes.

This plant is small and hardy, with bulls-eye pattern flower heads that have no ray petals, giving it common folk names that include “spot plant” and “eyeball plant,” in addition to function-indicating “toothache plant” and the curious “pricklebloom.” Ethnobotanists have compiled centuries-old practices involving this plant, including as a vulnerary in Ethiopia, a silagogue in Nigeria and Sri Lanka, mouth ulcers in India, labor induction in Uganda, and menstrual regulation in China.

There are a lot of products on the market that incorporate spilanthes or constituents derived from the plant, most of which relate to pain and oral care, such as for tooth and gum infections, swelling, and periodontosis. HerbPharm sells an oral health tonic, anti-fungal compound, and another topical compound containing Spilanthes acmella, while Dentaforce sells mouth spray for periodontal disease and gingivitis, as well as a mouthwash and an aftershave.

Check out this table of ethnobotanical research on spilanthes from the Hindawi research journal.

 

ACTIONS & ENERGETICS

Traditional medicine practices understood how to use this plant medicine through its energetic actions. When tasted or drunk as tea, one can immediately understand the aromatic nature of this plant. Spilanthes is one of the essential-oil heavy genera belonging to the family Asteraceae, with components including caryophyllene, limonene, and myrcene. This aromatic aspect along with the herb’s acrid constituents produces tingling, numbing, and saliva (which is why its known as a sialogogue). The spilanthol-induced tingling of the tongue can be unpleasant (as my folks learned), but the leaves may be eaten as vegetable when cooked, as some of the more intense flavor seeps out.

Spilanthes is also warming, stimulating, and diffusive, causing fluids to move through tissues and systems. These energetics likely contribute to the known actions of spilanthes: analgesic, anti-inflammatory, wound-healing, antifungal, antimicrobial, antiparasitic, and immune-stimulating.

Check out this cool table on the phytochemical makeup of various spilanthes species.

 

MODERN USAGE & CURRENT RESEARCH

Below is a (by no means exhaustive) list of some of the most common ways that this herb is used. I’ve included some research, the links to which are listed at the end of this article.

1. Oral and dental care: toothache, decay, and infection, sore throats, mouth ulcers, bleeding gums, stomatitis, gingivitis, and as a sialagogue.
2. Pain: headache, muscle pain, rheumatism, topical local anesthetic. In several studies with albino rats, an aqueous extract of Spilanthes acmella showed significant pain-reducing activity, with effectiveness of action increasing with dose from 100-400 mg/kg.
3. Antimicrobial: antibacterial, antifungal against infections such as ringworm, vaginal yeast, athlete’s foot. In several round of testing, ethanol extracts of spilanthes were found to be effects against Gram-positive bacteria Bacillus cereus, B. pumilus, B. subtilis, B. cereus, Staphylococcus aureus, Enterobacter faecalis, Pseudomonas aeruginosa, and Corynebacterium diphtheriae and the Gram-negative bacteria E. coli. Aqueous extracts were found to be inactive against these microbiota.
4. Immunity: common cold, fever, flu, cough, tuberculosis, pneumonia. Researchers think various species of spilanthes effect immune function by modulating modulation of macrophage function. This immune stimulating activity may be due to the presence of alkamides and polysaccharides in tested extracts.
5. Gastrointestinal distress: stomach ache, dysentery, gastritis, intestinal diseases, diarrhea, constipation, emetic, liver dysfunction. Both ethanol and aqueous extracts of fresh leaves of Spilanthes acmella have been reported to possess anti-inflammatory activity in acute, subacute, and chronic inflammatory states. Research results suggest support that one constituent, spilanthol, inhibits the production of proinflammatory mediators at the transcriptional and translational levels.
6. Kidney tonic: diuretic activity, dissolution of kidney stones and calcium accumulations.
7. Antiparisitic: Malaria, worm infections, itchy scalp conditions, insecticidal.
8. Pelvic and menstrual regulation: aphrodisiac, amenorrhea, leucorrhoea, anemia, fertility regulation.

Check out this table of spilanthes’ pharmacological actions from the Hindawi research journal.

 

ON PLANT SYNERGY & HIP RESEARCHERS

Much of the current research on spilanthes comes from India, and some of the papers I reviewed contained very smart things to say about not depending on technology-dependent single-constituent extracts for healing purposes, or human longevity in general.

There are five constituent groups that are thought to be responsible for a lot of the activity in the Spilanthes genus: alkamides, coumarins, flavonoids, terpenoids, and polysaccharides. While pharmaceutical and cosmetic companies are wont to used isolated compounds commercially, the research suggests that Spilanthes extract is superior in action to isolated compounds, likely due pharmacokinetic potentiation or pharmacodynamic enhancement. These are fancy ways of saying synergy, or results which manifest when small molecules interact and even depend on each other to create a substantive (and magical, lets face it) effect.

It’s sort of a no-brainer for a lot of folks versed in integrative or constitutional medicine, but the researchers spell it out: Ingestion of a plant extract is nearly always going to act on multiple pathways in the body. And, the scientists point out, this indicates that an herb is more than the sum of its parts — also a pretty darn familiar concept in integrative and holistic healing practices. But its nice of the scientists to say so, along with the suggestion that this sort of rather pharmacodynamic synergism suggests that herbal medicines have something special to offer.

 

TAKING THE MEDICINE

I most often use spilanthes in the form of tincture, as the prospect of drinking a whole cup of the tea gives me full-body willies. For topical wound and rash care, a water infusion is perfectly fine, though; I imagine a rubbing alcohol-based extract might be a nice liniment as well. I’ve yet to try spilanthes in a salve, and while it seems like it could be effect given its antibacterial actions, none of the research and few of the traditional preparations suggest spilanthes to be effective in an oil-based extract.

My favorite winter acute cold-and-flu combo is an ethanol tincture with 3 parts spilanthes to 1 part red root (Ceanothus americanus). The antimicrobial and macrophage mobilizing actions of spilanthes combine with the powers of red root’s lymphatic stimulation to catalyze superhero-like immune action. For a serious cold, I usually take 30-60 drops every two hours.

Before I sign off, I’d just like to encourage budding and experienced gardeners alike to have a whirl at growing this charming plant, if you haven’t yet. This creature of tropical origins does very well in temperate climate and thrives under multiple harvests. This year, I’ll probably only put six or eight plants in a raised bed. Once it starts flowering, I’ll do a “haircut” harvest of the flowers and top leaves once or twice a week. Some folks tincture the whole plant, in which case, you’ll still want to deadhead the flower to allow the plants to bush out before you pull the whole thing out of the ground.

I welcome any stories or perspectives on this tingly plant ally. Thanks for reading!

 

 

SOURCES

Pavani Manupati et.al. Preliminary Phytochemical Investigation of Ethyl Acetate Extracts of Leaves of Three Indian Medicinal Plants: Spilanthes calva, Declpis hamiltonii, and Madhuca longifolia. Department of Pharmacology. September 2014. http://www.ijipsr.com/sites/default/files/articles/IJIPSRMNR-145.pdf

Suchita Dubey,et al. Phytochemistry, Pharmacology and Toxicology of Spilanthes acmlla: A Review. Advances in Pharmacological Sciences.Volume 2013 (2013). http://dx.doi.org/10.1155/2013/423750

Jayaraj Paulraj et al. The Genus Spilanthes Ethnopharmacology, Phytochemistry, and Pharmacological Properties: A Review. Advances in Pharmacological Sciences. Volume 2013 (2013), Article ID 510298, http://www.hindawi.com/journals/aps/2013/510298/

Once, far north in woods filled with birch and hemlock, a wild-haired hobbit-ish creature lived in a four-story wooden tower on five acres at the end of a dirt road, with her Pooh-like book-keeping roommate and also a stray lioness who one day wandered into the aforementioned hobbit’s bed and shed all manner of cat hair. And while all appeared pretty freaking magical most days —

IT WOULD NOT STOP SNOWING. And whoever built the wooden tower in those far north woods thought it would be a great idea to have the ONLY heat source in the tower be dependent upon electricity, which meant that every time another dead branch fell on a powerline, the hobbit and book-keeper and lioness trudged through the snow over the mountain to their friends’ house on the hill, whose the gas stove didn’t depend on the grid to spit out its little licks of heat.

Okay, I’ll stop. You get it. I’m so sick of winter! So, of course, I’m trying to cook my way through it, and I just thought I’d share three recipes that have been really saving my insulated-Carhartt-clad booty. Because, sometimes, like true beauty, warmth is an internal experience.

 

FIRE CIDER

This has become an old standby on my kitchen shelf, so this year I just went ahead and made a half-gallon of it, as the book-keeper and the lioness really like to dip their spoons into this spicy brew. I first learned to make fire cider in southern Appalachia, where it doesn’t snow nearly as much, though a winter wind is still liable to cut right through you. Folks down there also call it “Cyclone Cider” and tell me that during the infusion process sometimes they’ll bury the whole jar in the ground for two or three weeks, biodynamic-style.

The gist of this recipe is that you pack a jar full of chopped spicy anti-microbial immune-boosting vegetables, cover them with raw apple cider vinegar, and let the brew sit for two to four weeks, shaking it now and again. This folk recipe can change according to what you have growing around you, but the standard ingredients include raw chopped onions, garlic, ginger, horseradish, hot peppers, and parsley. I also love to add turmeric root fresh or dried, burdock root, and fresh rosemary. Traditional Unani-Tibb (which means “Greek medicine” in Arabic) would call many of these herbs “warming in the 4th degree,” which is one reason they are very useful for sluggish winter circulation. The flavanoids and other antioxidants in these vegetables, including vitamin C, allicin, and quercetin, all provide protection against oxidative stress, and many of these have been linked to gut health, which is useful since integrative health practitioners and granny healers alike will tell you up and down that the gut is the seat of healing.

Some folks like to take tablespoons of Fire Cider in their salad dressing, while others can take straight shots of it, which is not for the faint of heart or those equipped with bland palates. I myself like to mix my twice-a-day tablespoon with a bit of honey infused with spilanthes flowers (a truly magical immune herb which I plant to wax all sorts of poetic over in a future blog post!). A word of warning: always take your Fire Cider at meals, rather than on an empty stomach. Once, while traveling in Guatemala, I experienced a solid week of nausea in the mornings and feared I was somehow divinely with child, until I realized I was taking my spoonful of Fire Cider on an empty stomach. Remember, this stuff is hot in the 4th degree!

 

GINGER ELDER SYRUP

Those of you herbal geeks probably know that Elderberry (Sambucus canadensis or nigra) has received all manner of attention in recent years due to its anti-viral potential in relation to virulant flu strains. Elderberry is a rich purple-black berry that grows in clustery crowns and are just as fragrant as the delicate white elder flowers they arise from. Researchers posit that the anthocyanin flavanoids, can be detected in blood plasma after taking elderberry extract by mouth, are helpful in the case of flu on several counts. Elder anthocyanins can stimulate the immune system’s production of cytokines by monocytes, and these flavanoids may also have an anti-inflammatory effect which helps sooth the ache and fever of viral infections. Other research has shown that elderberry prevents the flu virus from adhering to cell receptors.

Plus it just tastes good. When I last put a big pot of elderberry on the stove to simmer, the book-keeper and the lioness appear from the far reaches of the tower, sniffing the air. Since elder trees seem to ripen at different times, and since the time of year (late summer) during which to harvest elderberries is so darn busy, I’ve found it easiest to dry the berries as they become ready and then make batches of syrup as needed throughout the season.

So how to work the magic? You’ll need:

3/4 cup dried elderberry

3 3/4 cups water

2 tablespoons raw chopped ginger

1 cup raw honey

Bring the elderberries to boil in a large pot, and then reduce the heat to a simmer for 45 minutes to an hour, or until the fluid is reduced by half. Remove from heat and allow to cool until you can strain the berries out without burning your fingers. When lukewarm, stir honey into the remaining liquid and mix until thoroughly dissolved. I pour my syrups into an old salad dressing or bourbon bottle, and I store it in the refrigerator. It lasts for months, unless the lioness gets into it.

 

SAVORY WINTER OATS

When its still dark outside, and the floor is so cold on my feet, and I have to get up early to do something like haul wood pellets up two flights of stairs to stoke the stove, I could really use some fortification. Savory oats is the closest I have been able to come to eating macaroni and cheese for breakfast, and on these cold mornings fortification coincides happily with comfort food.

I prefer steel-cut oats for their texture, and even when I use rolled oats, I like to soak them overnight, if I can remember to do it, along with some walnuts, slivered almonds, and/or pumpkin seeds, for extra protein and to release some of that pesky phytic acid. If you’d like to add seaweed and it’s not ground finely, its nice to soak that overnight too, but in a separate container, because you don’t want to lose the good stuff in the seaweed. I know this seems basic, but remember to strain out the water from the soaking water from the oats, because you want to let that stuff go.

To keep the texture of the oats lovely, bring fresh water to boil before adding the strained oats, nuts, and seeds. If you’re using ground seaweed, this is the time to add a tablespoon or so. If you’ve soaked larger pieces of seaweed, you can toss those and their water into the pot with the oats. Once the oats have cooked to the desired consistency, remove from the heat and add any or all of the following: grass-fed butter or coconut oil, miso, black pepper, and nutritional yeast. Sometimes I ever grate a little carrot into the mix.

I could write reams about the benefits of pumpkin seeds (your prostate!) or seaweed (your everything!), but really I just want to tell you about oats, Avena. About their nervous-system nourishing, gut-soothing honesty, the uncomplicated kindness that a field of oats lends to does bedding down with new spring fawns, the juicy sexy seed that can work slow and steady wonders to a taxed adrenal system. Besides being packed full of minerals, Avena contains alkaloids that research suggests exert calming and restorative effect on the central nervous system. I find it immensely comforting that such powerful medicine can be had from such a humble plant.

Once, I gave a workshop to a room full of homestead-minded middle-aged ladies, and what do you think their favorite recipe was they tasted that day? Not the luscious damiana-and-rosemary-infused chocolate, not the rich bone broth or the rose petal honey. Nope. The oatmeal, that warm goopy old morning standby, all spruced-up. They loved it. Serious.

 

 

 

 

There comes a time — mid-January, maybe February — when the thought of dragging your long underwear on becomes unbearable, and there aren’t enough words in the English language to express your gripes with the season: stiff, stircrazy, sun-starved, sniffly, impossibly pasty and cold. You don’t want your partner to put her cold hands on you in bed, and if your nephew sneezes great globs of mucus all over your good wool coat one more time, you’ll quit your job and retire to somewhere where no one sells wool anyway.

I happen to know that places like that do exist, because I come from one, and so of course this post is particularly written for all of you who grew up in a climate where no one could fathom a use for “long underwear.”

What I have learned since moving to this frigid region is that, while many folks develop a grin-and-bear-it attitude to this gray and immobilizing season, what they often fail to share are the secret recipes that get them through the slush and sleet. Yup, that’s right: you can cook and herbally medicate your way through the most miserable of winters.

Foods and herbs that support circulation, stress, immunity, and energy levels can be invaluable allies in preserving your intimate relationships when you’re once again marooned at home by the prevailing Nor’easter. What have many cold-weathering traditional peoples long known about surviving harsh conditions? That seal blubber is medicinal (the sheer amounts of Vitamin D!), but there also exist myriad other foods and herbs that can please your palate and help maintain your vitality in the bluster. If you looked in the mirror this morning and barely recognize your papery wintery self, check out the herbs and recipes below for some ideas about keeping the internal fires steady when the season begins to drag.

 

Reishi

Maybe you are one of my friends who thinks that eating something known as a “Shelf Mushroom” is perfectly normal, or maybe you’re more like my mama, who is pretty sure that eating something gathered off a tree in the forest is the grossest thing since the invention of toddlers who throw up directly into your hands (my brother was really good at this).

However, when you consider the fact that that the 20th century’s most powerful antibiotics come from fungi (penicillin, streptomycine, and tetracycline), perhaps it makes sense that Reishi could be one of your biggest allies when it comes to cold and flu season. If your immune system is one of your foremost concerns, then some preparation of Ganoderma (encapsulated powder, liquid extract, tea) should be within your regular reach.

Reishi has so many names! In Chinese medicine it is called Lingzhi and “the mushroom of immortality). The name Reishi also encompasses two different Ganoderma species, Ganoderma lucidum, which grows on hardwoods, or Ganoderma tsugae, which grows on conifers like Hemlocks, and this is the species most well-known and studied from its use in traditional Asian medicine systems. Artist’s Conch (Ganoderma applanatum) may be used similarly. These shelf mushrooms are hard and woody, and I do not recommend taking a bite out of one uncooked, unless you have some amount of termite DNA.

The Ganoderma mushrooms (and other medicinal mushrooms as well, such as Turkey Tail, Trametes versicolor, or Shiitake, Lentinula edodes) are famous for the chemical compounds known as beta glucans, which are made up of polysaccharides, glycoproteins, triterpenoids, and ergosterols (which are compounds similar to steroids and create vitamin D from exposure to sunlight). Research has shown these constituents to increase the quantities and activity of T and B lymphocytes, natural killer, and macrophages. While much of the current research around Ganodermas is focusing on anti-tumor and cancer-inhibiting activity, Reishi and its ilk are essential components of your winter medicine cabinet.

So how do you get the stuff down? Many of the active compounds are water soluable, but I myself don’t care for the flavor of Reishi tea. I recommend encapsulated powders, or liquid extracts that use a process to ensure extraction of the polysaccharides. Reishi is considered a tonic herb, safe for long-term use, although folks with liver disease or autoimmune conditions might check with the health provider before adding it to their daily regimen.

 

St. John’s Wort

I find it far more difficult to maintain my pep when the sky remains that gunmetal gloom and the sidewalks feel more like gauntlets than pedestrian-safe zones. Its hard to stay positive in winter, and no one should feel bad about that.

The past decade has seen a LOT of research on St. John’s Wort (Hypericum perforatum) and a lot of investigation as to the quality of St. John’s Wort products on the market. Please, friends, don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater! St. John’s Wort (or as my sweetheart likes to say, “St. Joan’s Wort” — I like to use these interchangeably) has been used for millennia to treat nervous conditions, and I don’t just mean of the Victorian variety. St. Joan’s Wort could be shore up your resilience when it comes to the wintertime blues.

St. Joan’s Wort is a vigorous plant whose small brilliant yellow flowers prefer full fields of sun – the herb came by its name on account of its tending to flower around the summer solstice (St. John’s Day, according to the British Empire). A fun fact: If you hold the leaves of Hypericum perforatum up to the light, you can see little speckled perforations. One of my favorite things about this herbs is that the tea or oil made from fresh or dried plants comes out an unbelievable scarlet.

Researchers seem to think that it’s most active ingredients, hypericin and hyperforin, act on the nervous and immune systems, which are both targets for those of us dealing with our winter issues. Aforementioned researchers also believe that St. Joan’s Wort combats mild depressive states similarly to pharmaceutical SSRIs, in that it inhibits reuptake of noradrenaline, seratonin, and dopamine, allowing these happiness hormones to circulate longer in the body.

So what’s the catch? Well, I already talked about unscrupulous companies sell false St. John’s Wort products on the market. (Easy solution: find scrupulous herbal medicine manufacturers, like Gaia Herbs or HerbPharm.)

Also, hyperforin has been found to activate the enzymatic P450 pathway, which causes certain medications to be metabolized quicker. This is not great if you’re taking medications that need to be circulated in certain levels in your body, so definitely check with your provider about adjusting dosages of medications or St. Joan’s Wort.

Another effect of St. Joan’s Wort is photosensitivity — hypericin has proved effective in photodynamic therapy against cancer and against HIV in stored blood. Ew. Wait, there’s more: cows grazing in fields where St. John’s Wort is prevalent have been known to get sunburned! So maybe St. Joan’s Wort is not the thing to be taking regularly while vacationing in the Caribbean, but for those of us bundled and sun-starved, St. John’s Wort could be how you get more rays into your days.

St. John’s Wort oil is fabulous for healing burns and diminishing scar tissue, and it’s great for massage if you’re dealing with edema. If you’re looking to take it internally and you’re good at slugging your medicine back, find a trustworthy source (see above!) of encapsulated or tinctured St. John’s Wort. I myself enjoy drinking this aromatic herb as tea — for an uplifting blend, combine St. John’s Wort with calendula, damiana, and lemon balm.

 

Rosemary

They say that a shrub of rosemary growing by the door allows only love to enter. This has not been my experience per se, but I do know that when I liberally lace my chicken-and-dumpling soup with rosemary leaves, I find that I thaw myself out enough from the cold weather to entice my sweetheart towards the bedroom.

That’s what rosemary is really known for: getting the blood moving. Considered a stimulant, this herb increases circulation to all parts of the body and especially to the brain, which is maybe how it came to be known in Shakespeare’s time by Hamlet’s Ophelia: “There’s Rosemary, that’s for remembrance.” This circulatory stimulation can help with cold hands and feet, mental clarity, energy, and mood. Although this is not a strictly winter usage, I myself love rosemary hair oil for the moisture and shine it brings.

Chemically speaking, aromatic plants like rosemary contain volatile oils; the volatility circulates the aromas to those of us with the scent receptors to receive them, and these oils quickly evaporate into the surroundings. The flavanoid known as diosin has been found to increase assist in strengthening fragile capillaries, while a combination of the constituents have been shown to increase blood flow through the coronary artery. rosmarinic acid and other of the plants antioxidants have long been used in food preservation, while a whole host of the plant’s constituents display antimicrobial actions.

You know what would be great for a bout of winter congestion? A hot steam with a few drop of the essential oils of rosemary, tea tree, and eucalyptus. (And, ok, ok, my sweetheart say that, ethically, I have to mention the neti pot too. It really does work wonders.)

This small wood shrub is in the mint family, bears an unmistakable aroma, and boasts small blue flowers, which are just darling (truly!). In many climates it grows perennially, but I know some gardeners who keep their rosemary in pots in order to bring the fragrant creatures indoors come heavy cold.

So what are you going to go do right now? Add some rosemary to your above-mentioned tea blend, rub it all over the meat you’re marinating for dinner, and toss an extra handful into that chicken stock you’re putting up for later. Really, folks, its difficult to have too much of this herbs in your lives.

 

Stay Tuned!

If you’re hungry for more homestyle ways to nourish your way through winter, check back later for my upcoming post on sweet and savory recipes for battling back the chill!