Chicory: The Road-Watcher

Swine’s Snout and Witches’ Gowan and Priest’s Crown; Gill-Over-the-Ground and Robin-Run-Up -the Hedge: I love all those old-time, almost-forgotten names for wildflowers. They give plain old dandelions and ground ivy a personality, a bit of panache.

One of my favorite ancient names is “Ragged Sailors” for the tall, scraggly blue plant that lines highways and byways all summer. Chicory is the more common name, but if you look closely at the tips of the petals (a worthwhile occupation for a summer’s morning) you’ll see where the name comes from—although they’re not really raggedy, but trimmed in a neat zig zag pattern as though with pinking shears.

You’ll have to do your chicory research on a summer morning, because the flowers only open wide in the sun. By afternoon they’re closing up—the pollinator rush hour is winding down, so it’s wise to protect the delicate flowers till the sun comes out again.

As you stroll along a country road, the chicory almost seems to stand and watch you go by. So you can see the reason for the German name for the flower: wegewarte, often translated as “The Watcher of the Road.” Google Translate renders it as “Path Warden,” which I like even better. Chicory is a plant that grows close to the edge of civilization, springing up from hard-packed, sparse dirt, flourishing in gravel, defying road salt and litter. If you look down a long road, you’ll see the phenomenon called zonation, where plants group themselves by their preferred microhabitat. They all have differing needs of water and sun, different levels of toleration of salt and soil compression. Queen Anne’s Lace is another hardy plant, but royalty blooms a little behind the Ragged Sailors. Only some tough grasses, Ragweed, and Bird’s-Foot Trefoil (aka Devil’s Claw) can grow closer to the blacktop than the Path Wardens.

You’ve probably heard of chicory as a coffee substitute. Wild food guides advise you that to make this tasty beverage you need to dig the roots and grind them, but like much advice, this is easier said than done. It takes a lot of work to unearth even one root, and then you need to wash the roots, then dry them in a low oven, then grate or grind them up. Once you’ve tried to wash every speck of dirt out of the crevices of a few chicory roots, you start thinking about a trip to Dunkin instead. But in times of war, from the Revolution to WWII, it was hard to get imported luxuries like coffee or tea. Chicory root coffee was the patriotic drink of choice.

I was sad when they mowed my roadway last week. I miss the cheerful blue faces that watched me on my morning stroll. I know mowing is necessary, because chicory can’t grow in a thicket of bushes, but I wish they’d wait till winter is closer so the wildflowers can go to seed.  But the Path Wardens are tough. They’ll be back on duty next summer.