As part of the spirit of scientific inquiry, we believe strongly in inculcating an adventurous streak in the garden. Naturally, therefore, when we encounter a new or unusual plant in the nursery, we are apt to bring it home without asking too many impertinent questions.
Such was the case a couple of years ago when perusing the herbs at Farm Patch and we discovered something called a “curry plant”. We vaguely knew it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with curry seasoning, as curry seasoning is A) yellowish-brown, while the “curry plant” is a vibrant, icy blue, and B) made of a variety of herbs and seasonings, rather than just one, something we are familiar with from having listened to a learned discourse beyond our ability to follow on the part of competing cooks hailing from the Indian subcontinent. You think religious conflicts can be contentious? Just get two chefs together with a different idea about what constitutes good curry – make sure you have a good solid surface to hide behind, first, though.
Nevertheless, we brought home our plants, stuck them in the ground (with an admixture of chicken poop and neglect which is almost universally healthy for garden plants), and watched them grow.
Once we were certain that they would “make it” through the hot Texas sun and also through the freakish snow storms we have experienced the last four or five years, we decided to figure out what we actually had on our hands. Turns out, it’s an unusual plant for most gardens in the U.S., but it is not at all a “rare” plant. The proper name is Helichrysum italicum, and it is well known in Sicily, not as a culinary herb, but as a medicinal herb, and also (more commonly) as a cat deterrent.
The name “curry plant” probably got afixed due to the strong pungency of the herb; it does, in fact, smell a lot like a good curry – regardless of whose definition of “good curry” you happen to be using – and the flowers, which come out on wonderfully odd bulbous extensions, like a pair of eyes on stalks, are a bright, vivid yellow, adding to the impression that it just somehow has to be related to curry, in spite of all the accumulated logical evidence that it ain’t so.
The pungency is strongest in the floral extensions, although you can smell it year round. Historically, an oil was pressed from the petals of the florettes, and used as an anti-inflammatory, a fungicide, and as an astringent.
We have not made any of these uses of the plant, though we have enjoyed it as an interesting perennial, providing color even when most of the rest of the herbs have frozen to the ground. The color is more like a blue-spruce pine tree than anything else to which we might compare it; it provides a lovely contrast to the deeper olive tones of the rosemary bushes and the some-time vibrant oregano, which is also a perennial, though not as hardy. Our lavender plants also bear some resemblance to the curry plant, and between this cluster of perennials, our herb garden is never completely bare.
We have also observed that the pungency of the curry is exceptionally useful as an attractant for our local bee population, and, as the Sicilians have long known, as a repellant for feline garden intruders. This is particularly important in our garden, as we want as many bees as possible, but we also want as many hummingbirds as possible, and having cats lurking in the herb garden is less-than-optimal as far as the hummingbirds are concerned.
Then, too, we are growing catnip for a variety of reasons – it makes an excellent tea, it looks lovely in herbal bouquets, and it is part of an effective triumvirate of mosquito repellant plants – but obviously having a large bed of catnip would be like an open invitation to the copious feral feline population. By masking the catnip smell with the curry plant smell, we hope to minimize the unintended consequences of growing our more cat-friendly plants.
Depending on the size of your garden, you may not have room for an inedible herb; if you’ve got the space, though, let us highly recommend Helichrysum italicum. Curry plants are quirky, stinky, and hardy. Exactly the qualities likely to curry favor with Myrtle.
Happy farming!
Such was the case a couple of years ago when perusing the herbs at Farm Patch and we discovered something called a “curry plant”. We vaguely knew it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with curry seasoning, as curry seasoning is A) yellowish-brown, while the “curry plant” is a vibrant, icy blue, and B) made of a variety of herbs and seasonings, rather than just one, something we are familiar with from having listened to a learned discourse beyond our ability to follow on the part of competing cooks hailing from the Indian subcontinent. You think religious conflicts can be contentious? Just get two chefs together with a different idea about what constitutes good curry – make sure you have a good solid surface to hide behind, first, though.
Nevertheless, we brought home our plants, stuck them in the ground (with an admixture of chicken poop and neglect which is almost universally healthy for garden plants), and watched them grow.
Once we were certain that they would “make it” through the hot Texas sun and also through the freakish snow storms we have experienced the last four or five years, we decided to figure out what we actually had on our hands. Turns out, it’s an unusual plant for most gardens in the U.S., but it is not at all a “rare” plant. The proper name is Helichrysum italicum, and it is well known in Sicily, not as a culinary herb, but as a medicinal herb, and also (more commonly) as a cat deterrent.
The name “curry plant” probably got afixed due to the strong pungency of the herb; it does, in fact, smell a lot like a good curry – regardless of whose definition of “good curry” you happen to be using – and the flowers, which come out on wonderfully odd bulbous extensions, like a pair of eyes on stalks, are a bright, vivid yellow, adding to the impression that it just somehow has to be related to curry, in spite of all the accumulated logical evidence that it ain’t so.
The pungency is strongest in the floral extensions, although you can smell it year round. Historically, an oil was pressed from the petals of the florettes, and used as an anti-inflammatory, a fungicide, and as an astringent.
We have not made any of these uses of the plant, though we have enjoyed it as an interesting perennial, providing color even when most of the rest of the herbs have frozen to the ground. The color is more like a blue-spruce pine tree than anything else to which we might compare it; it provides a lovely contrast to the deeper olive tones of the rosemary bushes and the some-time vibrant oregano, which is also a perennial, though not as hardy. Our lavender plants also bear some resemblance to the curry plant, and between this cluster of perennials, our herb garden is never completely bare.
We have also observed that the pungency of the curry is exceptionally useful as an attractant for our local bee population, and, as the Sicilians have long known, as a repellant for feline garden intruders. This is particularly important in our garden, as we want as many bees as possible, but we also want as many hummingbirds as possible, and having cats lurking in the herb garden is less-than-optimal as far as the hummingbirds are concerned.
Then, too, we are growing catnip for a variety of reasons – it makes an excellent tea, it looks lovely in herbal bouquets, and it is part of an effective triumvirate of mosquito repellant plants – but obviously having a large bed of catnip would be like an open invitation to the copious feral feline population. By masking the catnip smell with the curry plant smell, we hope to minimize the unintended consequences of growing our more cat-friendly plants.
Depending on the size of your garden, you may not have room for an inedible herb; if you’ve got the space, though, let us highly recommend Helichrysum italicum. Curry plants are quirky, stinky, and hardy. Exactly the qualities likely to curry favor with Myrtle.
Happy farming!
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