Mugwort flowers amplify and balance the sweet flavors of winter squash, carrots, parsnips, and onion. If you roast fall fruit as a side dish for a savory entrée, add some mugwort to pears, apples, figs, and grapes. In simmered and soupy dishes, mugwort pairs very well with dry beans and lentils.
Above: A medley of potatoes with a flurry of dried mugwort flowers for seasoning. Above: The potatoes are tossed in a bowl with avocado oil, salt and mugwort. Above: The mugwort potatoes roast on a sheetpan for 40 minutes at 400°F. Above: A 9-minute egg tops crunchy mugwort roast potatoes.
Roast Potatoes with Mugwort Flowers
Above: Potatoes roasted with a mugwort flowers.
Serves 4 as a side (2 as an entrée)
A classic side dish, roast potatoes can also be standalone and very respectable meal (serve them with a crunchy salad of greens or radicchio and apple). I usually use avocado oil for its higher smoke point, but if you are not vegetarian and have some duck fat lurking, that combination is spectacular.
1 1/2 lbs potatoes, cut into wedges or quarters (halve if small)
1/4 cup avocado oil
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons dried mugwort flowers and leaves
Preheat the oven to 400°F.
Line a sheet pan with baking parchment.
In a bowl combine the potatoes with the oil, salt and mugwort flowers. Toss until combined. Spread the potatoes out on the baking sheet and roast for 40 minutes, or until they are turning dark golden (shake the pan halfway though to turn some of the potatoes).
Ah, fall: when cozy sweaters come out, the air crisps up, a kaleidoscope of colorful leaves decorate sidewalks, and it’s a struggle to decide which pumpkin-flavored drink to buy at the local coffee shop. In the garden, grasses turn tawny, flowers transform to seed heads, and it’s a struggle (as you sip your pumpkin-spiced latte) to decide what needs to be done and how to prepare plants for the coming sleepy, cold months.
You’re on your own picking your hot beverage of choice, but we can help you figure out your fall gardening chores. Below, six burning questions you may have about autumn gardening.
Yes. (And sorry!) We may not always see weeds, but trust me, they’re there, quietly resting below the soil surface, waiting for us (or creatures) to disturb the soil so that they can get some sun and a drink of water—and then KABOOM! Total weed invasion. Fall is definitely a time when weed seeds are storing food for winter, or they are exploding as they dry up. My advice: don’t procrastinate. The best way to get ahead of a spring weed invasion is to get a hold of the situation in the fall. And the most important thing you can do right now is prevent weeds from going to seed. How? Remove the weeds you see. And to ensure a successful eradication, determine what weeds you have and how they reproduce. Do they spread by seed, by rhizome, or re-sprout with a deep taproot? Once you know your culprits and how they make more of themselves, then you can learn how to successfully attack them. (See Weed Wisdom: What 10 Common Weeds Are Trying to Tell You.)
Here’s an idea to prevent weeds from taking over your world: lay down a 3-inch thick layer of mulch to bury newly dropped weed seeds and prevent light from reaching them. For large weedy areas, consider the sheet mulching method where you lay down flattened cardboard or newspaper first and then pile a thick layer of mulch on top. For individual weeds, consider pouring undiluted vinegar directly on the weed. Whatever method you do choose, manage weeds as naturally and as non toxic as possible. (See Landscaping 101: Pros and Cons of Homemade Weed Killer.)
When can you stop watering plants?
Above: In the Cranford Rose Garden at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Photograph by Marie Viljoen.
Bottom line: don’t stop watering yet, because plants still need water—just not as much as in the hot summer. After plants spend the summer devoting time and energy into leaf and flower growth, they move on to fruit and seed production, and then they take advantage of the fall season to get busy growing their roots. This means if we have a non-rainy fall, plant roots can dehydrate and plants become stressed; they will need continued drinks of water to keep them healthy. This is especially true for sunnier south-facing areas, and not so much for north-facing areas where the moisture will stay longer. Also, remember that plants under solid eaves don’t benefit from rainfall and can remain dry as a bone so you will need to hand water these areas.
Pro Tip: Newly installed or transplanted plants definitely need regular watering through the fall.
Above: Our editor Meredith uses a galvanized watering can to thoroughly soak the plants in her window boxes in San Francisco. Photograph by Liesa Johannssen for Gardenista, from Container Gardens: 5 Tips for a Perfect Window Box.
When winter finally creeps in, it also brings along its own set of dry, damaging conditions. When plants are packed under snow and ice, roots still get thirsty. The solution is to super hydrate plant roots before winter, and before the ground freezes, this means giving your plants long, deep soaks of water. When temperatures start to drop below 40 degrees F, you can wind down the water. If you’re in a warmer climate, the soil may not freeze at all, and if it doesn’t rain for a few weeks, your plants will still need a weekly dose of H2O.
We’ve all done it: planted something we love only to learn, sometimes years later, that it is invasive where we live. In many cases, we can be forgiven. If a nursery is selling it, the message conveyed is that all is well. There are fewer excuses now, when home research has never been easier and when awareness of invasive species has never been higher. Despite that, invasive plants are still being sold by many growers, and the desire for some of them sometimes overrides our internal ethicist. This list of 13 invasive plants includes some well known and understandably appealing garden ornamentals. Do not plant them, and do remove them if you are currently harboring plants whose spread alters and harms local ecosystems. An invasive plant does not stay home—it travels: by roots, runner, fruit, and seed.
But what about…?
Above: Japanese knotweed in bloom.
First, a disclaimer: this list of invasive plants is by no means complete and does not include plants like mugwort, Japanese knotweed, and garlic mustard, since we’re assuming (fingers crossed) that their notoriety precedes them and that they are probably not ornamentally tempting. But, by all means, add plants you feel should be addressed, in the comments.
Butterfly Bush
Above: Butterfly bush attracts butterflies but outcompetes native plants that feed their larvae.
One of the most tempting invasive plants is butterfly bush. It smells delicious, is pretty, blooms repeatedly, and is irresistible to butterflies. What’s not to love? Consider, then, that invasive Buddleja davidii excels at producing tens of thousands of lightweight, easily dispersed seeds per flowerhead, outcompeting native flowering shrubs whose leaves are essential food for butterfly larvae. While the nectar of butterfly bush attracts adult butterflies, this shrub is not a host plant for their caterpillars, which cannot feed on its foliage. Bear it mind that while newer, so-called less-fertile butterfly bush cultivars exist, they still produce seed, just less of it. Avoid.
Plant native flowering shrubs, instead. Sweet pepperbush (Clethra alnifolia) is a good alternative to butterfly bush, with flowers, scent, and a lot of butterfly action in late summer.
Japanese Honeysuckle
Above: Japanese honeysuckle smells wonderful but smothers shrubs and trees.
As appealing as its perfumed flowers may be, Lonicera japonica is now a serious botanical thug in wild places where it is not native. The scrambling vine uses shrubs and trees for support, creating dense, shaded thickets that alter the local ecosystem by smothering native seedlings. It is spread via its fruit, vexingly ripe during fall migration. Birds disperse the seed as they move south. Japanese honeysuckle also reproduces vegetatively, via above-ground runners and below-ground rhizomes.
An alternative to Japanese honeysuckle is of course a native honeysuckle, Lonicera sempervirens (but no scent, sorry). It is very attractive to hummingbirds. For a scented alternative, try star jasmine, (Trachelospermum jasminoides) or bee-friendly yellow jessamine (Carolina jasmine—Gelsemiun sempervirens).
Chinese and Japanese Wisteria
Above: Chinese wisteria at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.
I admire the long panicles of Wisteria sinensis and W. floribunda dripping from pergolas in botanical gardens. And then I drive up the Palisades Parkway in New York and New Jersey and see the same vines cascading from the bent branches of oak, maple, and sycamore. It’s beautiful, but it’s deadly: the strong vines of this wisteria cut through bark and cause gradual death, by girdling. Their smothering habit also alters native forest ecologies. Wisteria spreads vegetatively, growing easily from cuttings and new shoots, and by seeds, which explode from their pods when ripe. Seeds also travel along waterways, to germinate downstream.
Listen up! Your weeds are trying to tell you something.
Like all varieties of plants, individual weeds thrive in particular conditions. Some like it dry, others moist. Some prefer acidic soil, others thrive in more alkaline environments. Some will even tell you that your soil is perfect.
So before you pluck and pull, take note. You can learn a lot about the growing conditions in your yard, based on which weeds are growing where. These 10 common weeds will reveal secrets about your soil:
Used in traditional medicine to make a poultice against stings, rashes, and insect bites, plantains are nonetheless unsightly in the lawn and garden. Their presence indicates low fertility and high acidity. They also thrive in poorly drained, compacted soil.
The cure: To prevent plantains, correct the soil imbalance, aerate soil, and raise the level of your lawn mower so tall grass blades can shade plantain’s leaves.
Crabgrass
Above: Digitaria sanguinalis (crabgrass). Photograph by Rasbak via Wikimedia.
Ever the opportunist, crabgrass thrives in both poor or very fertile soils, and will spring up in times of drought or excessive watering.
The cure: To combat, raise the height of your mower to encourage “good” grass. Seed control also works with this annual: discourage germination by spreading cornmeal in the early spring.
Ground ivy (Glechoma hederacea), also known as “Creeping Charlie,” is an aggressive weed that can quickly consume an unhealthy lawn. It thrives in areas with poor drainage, low fertility and lots of shade.
The cure: Ground ivy will take advantage of bald spots, so make sure your lawn and garden have a lush canopy (or mulch), and fertile, well-drained soil. A higher mowing height (from 2.5 to 3 inches) will also help.
Annual Bluegrass
Above: Poa annua(bluegrass) photograph by Rasbak via Wikimedia.
An abundance of annual bluegrass is an indication that your soil is fertile, but most likely compacted and over-watered and poorly drained.
The cure: To combat, aerate and water less, raise your mower height, and prevent seeds from spreading by spreading a cornmeal gluten in spring.
Chickweed
Above: Common Chickweed (Stellaria media); photograph by Hugo via Wikipedia Commons.
Got chickweed in your garden? Goods news. That means it’s highly fertile. But this spreading annual can also indicate poor drainage and too much watering as well as compacted soil. (Good thing they’re delicious to eat.)
Are you growing purslane yet (I mean, deliberately)? Its claims to fame are split, 50-50: invasive weed versus superfood. As the latter, it is delicious, and it hollers of summer. Browsing my photograph archives recently, I found bunches of purslane being sold at the Union Square greenmarket in Manhattan for $2 in 2018; in 2011, they were being sold for $2 per pound. Last week I bought loose, perfect purslane stems from my local Brooklyn farmers’ market. They were $20 for a quarter pound. I laughed out loud. But I bought some, because I don’t grow it. Luckily, you don’t need much purslane to benefit from this summer annual’s juicy, omega-3-rich fatty leaves, and their succulent crunch. And if you have weeded the uninvited plant from your garden beds and are now snickering at a person foolish enough pay for purslane, just simmer down and be thankful that you have at hand a plant whose nutritional numbers may silence dissent.
Above: Purslane for sale at a farmers’ market.
To some people, purslane is essential. It was lauded by the Romans. And, in Sylvia Townsend Warner’s The Corner that Held Them, a novel I’m reading, set in a 14th century English convent during the Black Death, a nun laments: “It is bad enough to be without a priest. Surely we need not be without purslane.”
Aside from its tremendously high levels of fatty acids, including omega-3‘s, purslane (Portulaca oleracea) also contains Vitamins A, C, and E, calcium, potassium, magnesium, and melatonin. It has been studied for its antidepressant effects, as well as for its neuroprotective qualities, with positive results.
Now, is it worth $20 for a quarter pound? The minute you put a price on something, the sticker shock can make people sit up and take it seriously for the first time.
Above: Circa 2011, purslane sold for just $2/lb at Union Square.
At the same market where it was selling for $20/quarter pound, a man asked me with friendly interest, How do you eat purslane? I started rattling off the ways: raw, in salads; raw, with flaky salt; raw in tomato sandwiches; pickled; cooked slowly with lamb; cooked in vegetable curry. He looked a little surprised. He didn’t buy any. Maybe I was overzealous. Or maybe he had a gardenful at home. I hope so.
In the waning days of fall, a weed that happens to be a wild herb is still growing with enough vigor to defy the season. Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris) is a perennial that is usually leggy and seed-covered in autumn, but because this invasive (in the US) plant is often mown or weed-wacked in a futile attempt to subdue it, it responds with a resurgence of fresh green foliage as the days grow shorter. These tender leaves are a treat, especially for anyone tuned to seasonal, local eating and who is beginning to dread the looming, un-green months ahead. One of the easiest and most deliciously surprising ways to enjoy mugwort leaves is as a crisp chip. Here’s how to make mugwort chips and what to do with this feral delicacy.
Above: Shatteringly crisp mugwort chips with smooth hummus. Above: Austerely good, seasoned heirloom tomatoes with umami-crisp mugwort.
Mugwort chips are irresistible. They snap and crackle, and their flavor is intact. If you have never tasted the herb before before, it carries implications of sage, a suggestion of rosemary, a whisper of something herbally and attractively bitter (it is a species of wormwood, after all), but mostly…mugwort.
Above: Mugwort chips can be eaten on their own, or as crunchy garnishes. Above: The leaves are lid flat on an oiled baking sheet.
To make mugwort chips, the dry leaves are laid flat on an oiled baking sheet and baked for just 10 minutes. At that point I like to salt them before returning them to the oven for another 3 minutes.
Above: The chips stay crisp for about three days, as long as the weather is dry.
Crunchy, satisfyingly sage-like and flavorful, mugwort chips are an umami-rich and shatteringly crisp foil for anything smooth, soft, slithery, or creamy. Think hummus, eggs (boiled, steamed, scrambled, omelette), tomatoes, avocado, plump ravioli, and thin pasta. Top a noodle bowl with chips at the last minute, or crush them across a bread salad. Or just eat them straight up.
Above: A platter of warm, quartered eggs with mugwort chips. Above: More eggs, this time with hummus and a spicy, fresh cilantro sauce.
Truthfully, I drink no less than five cups of tea a day. I rotate between different blends, depending on the season and my health needs. So when I learned that my favorite organic tea company, Traditional Medicinals, was just a short 20-minute drive from my house, I knew I needed to visit their demonstration garden to learn how to grow herbs for making my own teas. I have no intention to stop buying tea; I simply want to be more experimental and self-sufficient—and have a little farm-to-cup experience of my own.
I asked Abbey Ramirez, head gardener at Traditional Medicinals (which, by the way, celebrates its 50th anniversary this year), about the best herbs to grow in the home garden. Her response:”I picked eight herbs with feasibility, seasonality, safety, and frequency of use in mind. These herbs are all beginner-friendly to grow, generally safe to use, can be cultivated in containers or in the ground, and are relatively easy to dry and store for later use.” Sounds perfect to me. Please keep reading to learn more.
NOTE: Although these herbs are generally known to be safe, always doublecheck the safety of consuming any plants if you’re pregnant, breastfeeding, or have any medical conditions.
“Calendula is tougher than it looks!” says Abbey. “It grows in a variety of soils but will fare best in soil with good drainage and does better with a weekly deep watering rather than frequent light water.” It prefers full sun but tolerates part sun, requiring at least five hours a day. And even though this plant grows in zones 3-11, it is considered an annual in zones 3-8 and behaves as a semi-evergreen perennial in zones 9-11. If you’re lucky, your calendula could bloom year-round. Bonus: Bees adore it.
Good for: digestive issues such as heartburn and peptic ulcers Plant part used: flowers Tea: fresh or dry How: 1-2 tbsp or 2-4 flowers in 1 cup of hot water for 10-15 minutes Food: fresh (petals only) or dry How: Use in salads, soups, cooked greens, baked goods, or as a garnish (best uncooked for nutritional value).
“Marshmallow has a soothing and lofty presence in the garden,” says Abbey. It needs moisture-retaining soil but also good drainage to avoid root rot. “If planted in full sun, this plant needs more water, but if it is in partial shade, one could get away with less water (this depends on your soil’s drainage and water retention).” Marshmallow grows as a deciduous woody perennial in zones 3-9, and Abbey recommends pruning back two-thirds every winter after it reaches maturity.
Good for: throat, respiratory, and digestive troubles Plant part used: roots, leaves, and flowers Tea: fresh or dry (roots only) How: 1-2 tbsp ground or chopped in 1 cup of hot water for 10-15 minutes (or same ratio in room temperature water overnight) Food: fresh or dry How: Use flowers in salads, baked goods, or garnish; use leaves in soups or sautéed with other greens.
Above: Photograph by Kier Holmes, taken at Traditional Medicinals.
Says Abbey: “Chamomile is a joyful and bee-friendly addition to a medicinal garden.” Though it craves full sun, this plant needs well-draining soil with decent water retention and consistent light drinks of water. Chamomile grows in zones 4-11 and can continuously bloom from April to August. Abbey adds, “This plant is strictly an annual, but I have found it is a prolific re-seeder and will likely propagate itself year to year if left alone to drop its seeds and complete its full lifecycle.”
Good for: sleep, relaxation, and digestion Plant part used: flowers Tea: fresh (stronger, more bitter) or dry (traditional, lighter, and more floral) How: 1-2 tbsp or 6-12 flowers in 1 cup of hot water for 10-15 minutes Food: Fresh or dry How: Use fresh as garnish only, as the flowers are quite bitter; ground dry flowers into powder for baked goods.
We’ve been writing about Tama Matsuoka Wong for more than a decade—first in 2013 when we joined her for a foraging (and eating) adventure on her 28-acre property in Hunterdon County, NJ, then again in 2017 when she co-authored the cookbook Scraps, Wilt + Weeds with Danish chef Mads Refslund (of Noma fame). And more recently, earlier this year, we were swept up by her new book, Into the Weeds, which lays out her “wild and visionary way of gardening.”
All of which is to say, we are unabashed fans—of her forage-focused recipes, of her let-nature-take-the-wheel gardening philosophy, of her passion for plants that are often misunderstood and loathed. “Some are ecologically invasive plants, some are just ordinary garden weeds, and some are native plants that aren’t on the list of showy ornamentals but are part of a vibrant natural plant community,” she says.
Below, the self-described “garden contrarian” shares why she thinks planting doesn’t have to be a part of gardening, which tool she uses to maintain her meadow, and why she always has crates in her garden.
Above: The “ecologically minded forager, meadow doctor, and lecturer” has written three books. Her first, Foraged Flavor, was nominated for a James Beard award; her second, Scraps, Wilt + Weeds, received the IACP “Food Matters” award. Read about her latest, Into the Weeds, here. Photograph by Colin Clark.
Your first garden memory:
In New Jersey, mucking about in the garden dirt with my mother, and picking wild berries. My mother grew up in Hawaii, climbing coconut trees and she always told me she loved the feel of the earth in her hands.
Garden-related book you return to time and again:
It’s an oldie but goodie: Bill Cullina’s Native Trees, Shrubs & Vines: A Guide to Using, Growing, and Propagating American Woody Plants. I still have my dog-eared version of Weeds of the Northeast by Richard Uva. I’ve also read multiple times H is for Hawk by British author Helen Macdonald and My Wild Garden: Notes from a Writer’s Eden by Israeli writer Meir Shalev. They inspire me. And, of course, Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer.
Above: Outdoor dining on her property, surrounded by “weeds.” Photograph by Ngoc Minh Ngo.
Wild, wonder-filled, wabi-sabi.
Plant that makes you swoon:
A survivor plant in its natural habitat and community: whether desert, chaparrel, bog, pine barrens, highlands, low country.
Plant that makes you want to run the other way:
Callery pear tree (bradford pear tree).
Favorite go-to plant:
Above: Tama likes to forage staghorn sumac fruit to cook with. See her recipe for Sparkling Sumac Lemonade Recipe. Photograph by Tama Matsuoka Wong.
Rhus typhina (staghorn sumac).
Hardest gardening lesson you’ve learned:
Nothing is forever. Plants thrive when and where the conditions are uniquely suited. We can’t over-think, over-design, and over-control these conditions, especially now with changing and unexpected weather conditions. Just be grateful when a plant has an amazing year.
Unpopular gardening opinion:
My mission is not popular: Weeds, by definition are not popular.
Gardening or design trend that needs to go:
The idea that everything in a garden needs to be planted, that we need to “install” a landscape.
Favorite gardening hack:
Above: “These crates are covering newly planted turkey tangle frogfruit, an unnoticed, weedy native plant that likes to grow ‘in wet ditches.’ ” Photograph by Tama Matsuoka Wong.
There is one cautionary note about eating Bermuda buttercup, and it is related to quantity. Like some other plants (sorrel, lambs quarter, and spinach come to mind), it is high in oxalates. Eating a large quantity, regularly, would be anti-nutritional (oxalates bind calcium, making it unavailable) as well as bad for ailing kidneys. If you suffer from any kidney problem, it is probably a food to avoid.
I use no more than a few tablespoons at a time, precisely because it is so sour. Any more would result in a permanent pucker.
Above: Wilted nettles with chopped Bermuda buttercup in a savory custard for a rustic, pizza-like tart. Above: It is very good mixed with Swiss chard, spinach, nettles, or other greens to top a rustic tart.
Leafy Green Tart with Bermuda Buttercup
Recipe adapted from Forage, Harvest, Feast – A Wild-Inspired Cuisine.
Adaptable to any leafy greens, this crisp tart is delicious eaten hot, at once, or cold, at a picnic. If Bermuda buttercup does not grow where you live, substitute sorrel or sheep sorrel. If you use nettles for this tart, blanch them by covering them in boiling water and cooking for about 5 minutes (spinach and chard need much less water, but nettles have those stings).
Filling
1½ lbs spinach, or: Swiss chard leaves (use the stems like this), nettles, lamb’s quarter, amaranth, quickweed 3 Tablespoons chopped Bermuda buttercup stems 1 cup crème fraîche or sour cream ½ cup whipping cream 3 large egg yolks 1 large egg ¼ teaspoon salt Black pepper, lots
Olive Oil Pastry
2 ¼ cups all purpose flour
¼ teaspoon salt
125 ml extra virgin olive oil
½ cup tepid water
The pastry does not need to rest or chill, so make the filling first.
For the filling: In a large pot bring an inch of water to a boil over high heat. Pack in the leafy greens and cover. Cook over high heat for about 2 minuets, then stir. Cook for another 2 minutes. The leaves should be just-tender but vividly green. Drain the leaves through a colander. Refresh with cold water and then squeeze them dry as possible in your hands. Now roll them up in clean kitchen towels to press out any residual moisture. Chop the leaves roughly, and reserve.
In a bowl beat the egg yolks and whole egg with the crème fraîche, cream, salt, and about 15 twists of black pepper. Add the chopped greens and the Bermuda buttercup and stir gently to combine. Dip a finger in to taste for seasoning, unless the raw eggs bother you. In which case…don’t. Add more salt, if necessary.
For the pastry: Combine all the pastry ingredients in bowl and stir to combine. Form into a ball.
To assemble: Preheat the oven to 400°F. Oil, or line a baking sheet with baking parchment.
On a clean surface, roll out the pastry into a disc about 12 inches in diameter. Transfer it to the sheet. Using your fingers, turn up its edges, crimping them to form a lip to contain the filling. Gently tip in the filling and spread evenly. Bake for 40 – 45 minutes until the pastry is crisp and the center of the tart is set.
Do you know where the wild lettuce grows? Ask a bunny. In Beatrix Potter’s eponymous tale, the Flopsy Bunnies eat too many lettuces and fall asleep in an ill-advised spot, where Mr. MacGregor finds them. These were “overgrown lettuces, which had shot into flower” to be thrown on a rubbish heap; mature lettuces produce a lot of milky sap (hence their genus name Lactuca), and this sap has been used in folk medicines for millennia to calm and to soothe (dried, it is known as lettuce opium). And then there are Edward Lear’s Old Guinea Pigs, who caution: “Have a care that you eat your Lettuces, should you find any, not greedily but calmly.” The little guinea pigs did not follow their advice.
These favorite childhood stories and an abundance of wild lettuce locally (in flower, as I write) are how my recipe for a chilled wild lettuce soup was born. The emerald soup is restorative, and can be made with tame lettuces, too, or other leafy greens.
Above: This smorgasboard of early summer weeds includes wild lettuce (rear), daylilies, and burdock.
Lettuces may in fact be soporific; exploratory studies are beginning to (tentatively) substantiate traditional medicine’s deployment of lettuce powders and oils as a sleep aid and analgesic. In a culinary context, you’d have to eat as many as those greedy rabbits did to feel any effects. But the antioxidants and high fiber in lettuce, plus the drowsy-bunny appeal, are reason enough to eat more wild lettuce. It is an under-appreciated vegetable whose versatile nature should encourage culinary attention.
Above: As ornamental as Swiss chard? The midribs of Lactuca canadensis in late spring.
Wild lettuces as a group are not too hard to identify. Beginners might mistake them for dandelions, sow thistle (Sonchus oleraceus), or thistle species—not a serious error, since all are edible. It’s helpful to know that some lettuce species look very similar and are hard to tell apart until they bloom. This is also not serious, since there is no toxic species, but it will vex your inner plant geek.
Where I live, the two most common lookalike wild lettuces are Lactuca canadensis and L. biennis (also known as tall blue lettuce). The stalks of both may be either a deep maroon or green. The leaves of both are highly variable. Both are tall, their hollow stems stretching up to human height.
Above: Lactuca biennis, tall blue lettuce.
Above: A closer view of L. biennis, with faint hairs on the stem and leaves that do not clasp.
L. biennis has very faintly hairy stems, while L. canadensis has fine hairs only on the leaves’ midribs. A useful distinction is that L. canadensis bleeds a slightly brown latex when cut. And a final “c” distinction is to remember that “canadensis clasps,” because its leaves clasp the stem.
Above: Lactuca canadensis.
Wild lettuces have potential to be sown and grown as bona fide vegetables. While we have bred the stems out of domesticated lettuce, consider celtuce, which is all stem (and challenging to cultivate). A tender wild lettuce stem is a true delicacy, and the plant is easier to grow. Harvest lettuce seeds this late summer and fall and offer them a spot in your vegetable plot. L. biennis will prefer some shade if you have it to spare.
For months, from early spring to the edges of summer, ground ivy’s tubular blue flowers announce its (often resented) presence in sunny lawns or in the high shade of garden or woodland trees. Its leaves are tiny and toothed; when nights are still cold and crisp, they are more burgundy than green, and its earliest flowers are periwinkle-blue. In lawns that are mown regularly the plants form compact, woven mats. Left to grow, they become slender and tall, festooned with flowers that turn gradually paler as the weather warms.
Crush a stem, and sniff its leaves: minty, with an oregano undertow. Collect a handful to scatter across a salad, to muddle into a drink, or to brew into a strawberry and rhubarb cordial (find that recipe below).
Above: A lawn blooms blue with ground ivy in early spring.
Ground ivy’s strong flavor and refreshing scent make it an appealing, low maintenance, and cold-hardy culinary herb. Botanically, it is Glechoma hederaceae, a potent perennial member of the mint family. Although it is credited with many other common names in English, the two that are most familiar are creeping Charlie and gill-over-the-ground. The latter name’s etymology give us a clue to one of its uses: “gil” is derived from guiller—to ferment, in French; ground ivy was used in beer making (Peterson, 2011). It is native to Europe and and has long been used as a medicinal, culinary, and brewing herb.
Above: Ground ivy is impervious to mowing, and forms dense, steppable carpets.
While its spread can be aggressive where it is not native, its threat seems to be mainly to lawns. In the context of the persistent mania for a weed-free lawn monoculture (whose success often depends on herbicide use and a lot of synthetic fertilizer), I find this lawn weed hard to dislike.
Above: In early spring ground ivy’s leaves are tinged with burgundy, especially if it grows in full sun.
Above: Left unmown, ground ivy can grow tall before its stems flop to the ground, where they take root. Above: A bowl of ground ivy on a rainy spring day. Above: Cucumber, salted rhubarb slices, and sheep feta with pomegranate molasses and ground ivy.
I like to scatter its pretty flowers across salads where their piercing freshness is offset by juicy or salty elements.
Above: Ground ivy has become one of my favorite herbs to pair with strawberries.
This is part of a series with Perfect Earth Project, a nonprofit dedicated to toxic-free, nature-based gardening, on how you can be more sustainable in your landscapes at home.
Rashid Poulson probably wouldn’t be where he is today if he hadn’t gotten bored at work. The horticultural director of the Brooklyn Bridge Park (BBP), one of the city’s most exciting new parks and our newest Pathways to PRFCT Partner, had zero interest in gardening when he was studying engineering in college. But when the hours dragged during his job as a cashier at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden’s former gift shop, he found himself reaching for the gardening books to pass the time, and “caught the bug.” His mother, a BBG gardener, suggested he apply to New York City’s Million Trees horticultural training program. A few weeks later, while working near the West Side Highway tackling invasive porcelain berry vines and trying to avoid poison ivy, he had an epiphany. “I remember how refreshing the air was, the exposure to the sun, and the interesting cast of intercity youths who were brought together to tackle these daunting plants draped over canopies of oaks and many other mature trees,” he recalls. “In that moment, everything I was doing felt right and purposeful. I was contributing to the world I live in.” He had found his calling.
Above: Poulson is the director of horticulture at Brooklyn Bridge Park. “With changing hardiness zones, it’s a challenge to navigate the layers of new information, and then turn that information into appropriate action. For example, do you water a struggling tree during drought? Or do you accept it as the larger reality of climate change in that say 30 years from now, this tree might not be able to survive in this particular range or microclimate of New York City?” Photograph by Alexa Hoyer.
After completing the program, Poulson became an intern at the High Line for a summer before joining the team at BBP in 2012. He’s been there ever since, rising through the ranks—from seasonal gardener to director of horticulture in 2022. Designed by Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates, BBP encompasses 85 acres on the Brooklyn waterfront and features freshwater wetlands, flower meadows, woodlands, and salt marshes—all maintained organically and sustainably. Poulson shares how the gardeners tackle weeds, the native plants that make his heart sing, and more.
Photography by Rashid Poulson, unless noted.
What’s the horticulture team at Brooklyn Bridge Park up to right now?
Above: Poulson at work.
We just kicked off irrigation in the park, which is big for us because after nearly a decade, managing turf is back under the horticulture department. We will be experimenting with incorporating clovers into a few of our small lawns to see where we can reduce our inputs into over 11 acres of turf areas throughout the park. We aim to expand on this as much as possible with larger lawns.
We are eager to dive into the spring planting season. There are some new Carex plantings (Carex radiata and Carex greyi) adjacent to lawns that I am certain will be successful. These plantings grow under trees like Metasequoias (dawn redwoods) and Taxodiums (bald cypresses) that provide ample shade along lawns, where full sun turf grasses are unable to establish. This will likely serve as a model for us to add a variety of native plants that could straddle the lawns in areas that are typically mulched pits and will function with lower maintenance inputs and will have fewer resources applied. And of course, they will heighten the aesthetics of the area.
What are some of the tasks/practices that you are doing now in the garden?
The name of the game this time of the year is staying on top of the weeds ahead of summer. We’re trying a new method this year: a radial approach [to weeding]. Imagine a 10-foot x 10-foot area, where you’ll find things like Gallium, nettle, and then a bunch of mugwort forming in the middle. The instinct might be to run straight for the mugwort and pull it, especially considering how aggressive it is. But you really want to start at the perimeter, the furthermost perimeter of your weed populations and subtly work your way in. This way we can boost our thoroughness and effectiveness, as well as have as delicate a footprint as possible. When you are utilizing those radial approaches, you allow the eye to prioritize a little bit better. Once you’re done, you’ve also essentially closed off that situation and prevented the spread of these hot pockets of weeds that we have throughout the park.
According to Wong, rewilding your land means rethinking how we garden and seeing ourselves as stewards of the land. Instead of trying to tame the land, Wong listens to it and works with what nature has already set into motion, encouraging plants that she wants to keep, and editing out ones that are highly invasive or otherwise undesired.
Blur the boundaries.
Above: Beyond what Wong affectionately deems the “weed lawn” are her vegetable and foraging beds, and beyond that a dry meadow and eventually the forest edge.
Looking out on Wong’s garden, it’s hard to tell where the garden ends and the wilderness begins–and that is intentional. “Instead of creating boundaries between wild and not wild, I like letting plants merge next to each other. I don’t need to impose hard lines demarking my garden, whether by hardscape, mulching, plastic weed control, or chemical eradication,” writes Wong of her approach to gardening.
But mark some edges.
While Wong lets the borders between her yard and the wild area get fuzzy, she purposefully marks boundaries around patches of wild plants that she wishes to keep. “Outlining these spaces can give a tiny bit of structure to a wild and sprawling garden, especially in the height of the season when things are growing like weeds,” says Wong.
Embrace wild wood.
Above: Wong creates open-lashed fences and structures from found wood, which she describes in detail in the pages of Into the Weeds.
Instead of buying fencing at the home improvement store, Wong forages “wild wood” to make fences, borders, and gates in her garden, creating her own woven wattle and open-lashed edging using wood and vines found on her property. The wild wood is in harmony with her untamed aesthetic and will eventually nourish the soil when it breaks down—it’s also eminently affordable.
Rethink your vegetable beds.
Above: Wong views raised beds as “a home base” that plants are bound to escape, rather than a strict container that must be meticulously weeded around.
Wong cultivates many edible plants in beds, but she mixes them with two types of wild plants: Familiar foraging plants and native plants that are not edible but add other benefits, like milkweed and mountain mint. “These beds are a dazzling array of diversity,” she writes. “A mixed blend of natives and nonnatives, perennials, annuals, and biannuals.”
Above: Into The Weeds is available now wherever books are sold, including Bookshop.org.
While Wong admits her forager’s approach to gardening is unconventional, she also believes that as weather becomes more extreme and unpredictable, it will be more difficult to maintain large areas in a maintained, manicured way. “I think this is where things are heading, but for now, it’s for people who are kind of like me—they’re frustrated, failed gardeners,” Wong says. “This book is for the people that can’t garden the way garden books are supposed to inspire us to garden.”
For more recently published books to check out, see:
Seen through the critical lens of weeds, dandelions are perhaps the most familiar nuisance plant of all. Seen through the appreciative lens of food, they are a welcome and fresh spring ingredient. You don’t have to be a forager to recognize the new, lion-toothed leaves (dent-de-lion is the French etymology) emerging from their overwintering crowns in spring. A few weeks later, dandelions’ bright flowers, rayed like miniature suns, set fields, lawns, and path edges ablaze. Soon, their silky parachute-seeds drift off—the threat (or promise) of more.
Instead of reaching for the Roundup, let’s rewind, rewild, and re-set our dandelion clocks to appreciate this useful plant.
Dandelions are one of the bitter herbs of Passover, and in Gaza today, dandelions, along with other hardy “weeds” like common mallow, feed the hungry. An edible plant valued at least since the Ancients ate them as a tonic, dandelions are associated with a solid repertoire of traditional recipes. Dive into cookbooks and websites from countries ranged around the Mediterranean and the Middle East, and you will find them on plates of wilted greens annointed with olive oil and caramelized onions, in yeasted pies and meaty stews, and in reassuringly simple salads.
Above: Early-blooming dandelions give bees a boost.
A bee-friendly PSA: While dandelions are good to eat if you are human, their flowers are also a boon to bees. Their bloom time varies according to regional seasonal differences, so consider not mowing your lawn (and lobby your local municipality or park not to mow either) when they bloom in your area.
Above: Dandelion crowns include the base of the plant, leaves, buds, and flowers.
Above: Early spring’s dandelion crowns wilting in a hot pan with oil.
Early spring’s dandelion crowns are the whole basal rosette of the plant, sliced just above the root. Harvested before the more uncompromising bitterness of the mature leaves has developed, the crowns are a crunchy and mild vegetable, and succulent treat.
While the crowns can be eaten raw in salads, they are also easy to wilt entire in a pan of warm oil. My favorite spring snack is a quick cicchetti-like bite of sautéed dandelions atop good bread, with some field garlic to add a pungent bite. They can also be added whole to familiar dishes from almost any culinary genre: East Asian noodle bowls, Southeast Asian-style curries, Italian-inspired spaghetti (with bottarga), Senegalese maafe, South African bredies. Willing, and wilted, the dandelions add an additional layer of flavor to any of these meals, along with a healthy dose of minerals and antioxidants.
Above: Wilted dandelion crowns tossed into pad thai. Above: Tender dandelion leaves.
Spring’s edible weeds are ready to eat. But what is a weed? It’s not a new question but it bears repeating. Is a weed a problem plant, a nuisance plant? A plant that is not valued where it is growing? Usually. But in some notable cases, our weed is someone else’s food—or even someone else’s crop. A weed might be native to the region where it is treated with contempt (or herbicide), or introduced from another continent. Here are some of the useful, edible weeds that a temperate spring brings. Let’s call them greens, and vegetables. Because that is what they are. You may even want to cultivate some. Several are sold at farmers’ markets already.
Above: An early spring plate of bittercress, henbit, and chickweed—opportunistic lawn weeds, or good for pollinators and people?
Broadly, our collective understanding of weeds is culturally biased, regardless of where we live. It is often shaped by corporate farming and agri-business, and the challenge of raising one crop where another plant is able to infiltrate, compete, and interfere. Enter herbicides and crop-seeds bred to be resistant to poison. And then, in some countries (and especially in the United States), there is the big, big business of lawns. Many lawn-keepers are offended by anything less than a 100 percent grass expanse. More herbicides. More runoff into overburdened waterways and into the ocean.
If we learn to appreciate a diversity of plants, some edible weeds shape-shift in our perceptions into desirable seasonal treats.
Above: Garlic mustard, field garlic, daylilies, ground elder, lesser celandine, magnolia (not-a-weed), Japanese knotweed, butterbur, and mugwort.
Not every edible weed is innocuous. Some very invasive plants (lesser celandine, mugwort, and Japanese knotweed, for example) can and do alter habitats, negatively affecting not only the native plant community but the system to which those plants belong, from mammals through to soil microorganisms. If you live where they have been introduced, and are not native, do not plant them. By all means, harvest them at their tastiest peak—that is what horticulturists and land stewards call mechanical control. For foragers and seasonal eaters, it’s called looking for dinner.
We’ll be brief in our list of 24: It’s a who, when, where, what, and how. With some links to more in-depth information about some of our favorite weeds.
Bittercress
Above: Bittercress blooms and its tender stems are peppery, like watercress.
Hairy bittercress is Cardamine hirsuta.
Very early spring.
Lawns, garden beds, fields.
Eat its tiny leaves, stems and flowers, raw or cooked. They taste peppery.
Above: Whole bittercress plants keep fresh in a bowl of water.
Butterbur
Above: Butterbur flowers appear before their leaves.
Butterburs are both native and introduced, in North America. The invasive species are Petasites japonica and P. hybridus.
Early spring
Damp places
Butterbur buds taste like chrysanthemum greens. Do not eat raw: Boil before eating.
Spring is sprung, the mugwort is riz (at least in Brooklyn, New York). I wonder where the mower is? Because the first, silvery tufts of spring mugwort have emerged after winter in a flocked carpet visible from a distance. Their arrival, while nights still hold a hard chill, is met with joy, indifference, or despair, depending on who you are, where you are, and, if you’re a professional horticulturist, who you work for. While Artemisia vulgaris (and some very similar species) is a botanical super-invader in North America, it is also a very useful herb. It is one of the first perennials to break ground, and feathery spring mugwort is a delicate and sustainable wild treat, inspiring that joy for cooks sensitive to the changing of the seasons. Collect a tender bagful, and make a meal to accompany a conversation about the situation.
Above: Spring mugwort is tiny, belying it’s substantial height by the end of summer.
Mugwort is a perennial plant that spreads via undergound stolons. It also germinates from seeds very easily, as I have learned after shaking out my late summer forage-basket on our terrace and seeing miniature mugworts pop up in my pots in the spring. The plant is hard to control and exceptionally difficult to remove where it has invaded wild, natural areas. It out-thugs even tenacious native plants like common milkweed. It is a useful and welcome fresh or dried herb, though.
Above: The first spring mugwort leaves are very tender.
Spring mugwort, if you spin the story just right, is a pretty edible treat. (The spin is to emphasize that foraging for mugwort does the environment where it is invasive no harm whatsoever.) Unlike its late summer iteration, which is chewy, potent, and pungent, these leaves of early mugwort are very tender and very mild in flavor.
Above: A pot of beans, loaded with aromatics and spring mugwort.
In the bean stew recipe that follows, spring mugwort is blanched in the cooking broth, before being added as a green, edible garnish to the beans. This stew can be eaten in three ways. Way One: As is, as a rustic, nourishing soup-stew. Way Two: The flavor is intensified exponentially when the beans are drained and the broth is reduced to a glaze. Eat beans in rich glazed broth. Way Three: Once the broth is reduced, the beans are turned into a creamy purée whose foundation is that umami-heavy glaze.
Above: Mugwort blanching in the reduced cooking broth. Above: Once blanched, the spring mugwort sprigs adorn the velvety beans. Above: The beans can also be puréed to make a portable vegan pâté (here garnished with garlic mustard).
Marijuana has become mainstream, but it isn’t reflected in shows. Weed’s presence in entertainment has generally looked back to stereotypes. Unlike alcohol, it gets more of an over the top portrayal. From classic TV to the streaming companies, it is usuallyhard to find quality but here is hte best weed tv to stream.
In fact, tobacco use in streaming shows such as “Stranger Things,” “House of Cards,” “Orange Is the New Black” and “Fuller House” is pervasive, rising and more prominent than it is in broadcast shows, according to a report from Truth Initiative.
Netflix has tried to bring marijuana to the forefront, developing different programs like “Disjointed” and “Cooking on High.” Although there’s money and talent behind these series, none have been successful or good, clunkily adding marijuana as a gimmick to gain views and create controversy instead of presenting it as a realistic part of people’s lives.
While there’s plenty of room for improvement within the weed TV show landscape, there are shows that have succeeded with amazing results. Interestingly enough, these programs tend to be half-hour comedies, weaving in the political with the everyday experiences of people who like to smoke marijuana.
Here are the best weed-centric shows to add to your watch-list:
Weeds
“Weeds” is an old show with an already dated premise, but it still works. Nancy Botwin is a mother of two whose husband just passed away and is left with all sorts of debts and challenges. Of course, her next step is to start selling weed to her rich neighbors to earn some extra cash. Developed by Jenji Kohan (who also created “Orange is the New Black”), “Weeds” is a comedy that’s also a drama, with different degrees of success per season. Throughout its eight year run, the show managed to stay innovative and funny, always featuring a complex lead character. It’s also a time capsule of sorts, set during a time when weed was more taboo than it is now. You can stream it on Netflix.
“High Maintenance” is an anthology series bound together by the character of The Guy, a weed delivery man who works in New York. “High Maintenance” is the rare anthology series that’s consistent; unlike most anthology programs out there that are strung together by a few great episodes and a bunch of filler, “High Maintenance” manages to tell engrossing and human stories that never overstay their welcome and that are particularly rewarding for New Yorkers. You can watch “High Maintenance” on HBO.
Broad City
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IlAmyuWZdpw
Another great New York show is “Broad City” which, despite focusing on the messes and adventures of two best friends, is also an ode to marijuana. In every season you can reliably find an episode where weed facilitates or hinders Abbi and Ilana’s adventures, all with hilarious and surprisingly touching results. “Broad City” has many fans and consists of four short seasons of half-hour episodes, making it the perfect binge for any mood. You can stream the full show on Hulu.
Despite the decades that have passed, “That 70’s Show” remains a weirdly ambitious sitcom. Lasting eight seasons made up of more than 20 episodes each, it’s an iconic show that managed to cultivate a very devoted fan base. “That 70’s Show” follows a group of teen friends and their parents, using a backdrop of the 70s that informs all story lines, addressing politics, the sexual revolution and weed, all in sneaky PG-13 ways. Watching the show as an adult proves to be a different experience, especially once you realize that the notable circle scenes are made up of friends and sometimes parents, sitting around in a circle smoking weed, as one does. You can stream it on Netflix.
Atlanta
Donald Glover’s “Atlanta” is the strangest entry on this list, a comedy that’s comfortable with breaking all sorts of rules and that pushes the boundaries of the genre. Centered on Earn, played by Glover himself, the show is a woozy and strange half-hour that’s funny and depressing, reflecting on the all too real disparities present in America. Glover has always had a knack for expressing racial and economical realities — his finger always steady on the pulse — and nowhere is his talent more apparent than on this show. It’s the rare dramedy that will make you laugh out loud and leave you thinking long after it’s over. You can watch “Atlanta” on Hulu.
Above: Naans in cross section: cooked in 3 minutes.
Above: A trayful of hot field garlic naan, ready to be devoured.
Field Garlic Naan
Makes 6 to 8
A platter of field garlic naan could stand alone as a meal, but the breads are an exceptional partner for eggs, soups, beans stews, dhals, curries and curry riffs, like butter chicken. A cast iron skillet or plancha (griddle) is indispensable here, allowing for very high, evenly distributed heat, which creates those wonderful charred spots that make genuine naan—cooked in a fiery tandoor—instantly recognizable. The cast iron should be well seasoned, because we’re not adding oil to the skillet, for this baking method. The naan should be eaten right away, while still warm. If you must, you can make the naan ahead; just reheat for 3 minutes in a 400-degree oven before serving, and do the butter-drench after re-heating.
Bread
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons yeast
2 Tablespoons yogurt
1 Tablespoon milk
1 large egg
½ cup warm water
3 Tablespoons melted, unsalted butter
1 ¼ teaspoons salt
Field Garlic Butter
¼ cup melted butter
¼ cup snipped field garlic
For the naan: Combine the flour, yeast, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. In a smaller bowl whisk together the yogurt, milk, egg, water, and melted butter.
Make a well in the flour, and pour the wet mixture into it. Mix everything together until nothing is dry. Transfer the dough to a clean, lightly buttered bowl and cover with a damp kitchen towel. Leave it in a warm place (I use the microwave–just don’t turn it on accidentally!), for about 1 ½ hours, until it has doubled in size. (A buttered finger-poke should leave a dent; if the dent fills in, leave it to rise some more.)
Place the dough on a very lightly floured surface. Using a bench scraper or large knife, cut the into 6 – 8 equal pieces. Form each into a ball.
Place the balls on a lightly-floured tray, dust with a little flour, and cover loosely with a kitchen towel. Allow them to rise for about 20 to 25 minutes (it will take longer in a cold room) until risen by about 50 percent.
Before you shape, heat your cast iron skillet to smoking point. In a small pot melt your butter with half the field garlic over low heat. Keep in reserve.
To shape the naan: I like elongated naan. Put a ball of dough on your lightly-floured work surface, flatten with your palm, and dimple the surface outward with your fingers. Then stretch gently to elongate, to about 8 inches long. As soon as each naan is shaped, lay it in your smoking-hot griddle or pan. You should be able to cook two, maybe three, at one time. Cook on one side for no more than 1 to 1 ½ minutes. The top will develop bubbles, and the underside, when you flip it, should be charred in spots. Cook the other side for 1 minute or a few seconds more, if the sides seem undercooked. You may need to turn the heat down a touch if the charring is happening too fast. As each naan is cooked, transfer it to a plate, brush with the waiting field garlic butter and cover with a clean kitchen towel folded over them to keep warm. Repeat with the rest of the dough balls.
When all the breads are ready, pour any residual butter over the top and add a flurry of the remaining field garlic. Dig in!
More and more people are starting are being more open about their marijuana use. In fact, 90% of citizens want some form of legal cannabis. While gummies are the most popular way people use, joints are still the classic. You can buy pre-rolls, but some still enjoy rolling their own. But it is tough and it can mean the blunt can burn unevenly. Here are the best tips to roll your own joint.
Canoeing has nothing to do with experience because even the most experienced smokers occasionally have their blunts shaped like canoes.
Photo by RODNAE Productions from Pexels
What Is Canoeing?
Canoeing is a term used to describe the uneven burning of a joint. The blunt burns more on one side than the other, and trust me, and this takes the fun out of smoking. Imagine coming home after a long day, taking the time to roll a blunt, only for the joint to canoe after a few drags. It sometimes gets infuriating. To derive the most satisfaction from your joint, you must try everything possible to avoid canoeing.
Joint canoeing is a problem. No one wants to take the time to smoke a joint which only smolders on one end. The blunt-taking appearance of a canoe is not the main problem but the effects of this uneven burning. When a joint canoes, it results in less-satisfying drags, faster-burning flowers, and a coarser, denser taste and smell. Overall, joint canoeing is more or less a waste of paper and cannabis flowers.
How to Avoid Having an Unevenly Burning Joint
If you immediately you notice your joint canoeing, there are quick fixes for you to remedy the situation, but it’s best to avoid the occurrence altogether. You have to take caution from the very beginning—which is grinding. Novice smokers often make the mistake of loosely rolling their joints and filling them with air pockets. And there are times when you could light your blunt in the wrong manner. There are various things could go wrong, from grinding to pulling on your joint. Here are some steps to follow to prevent canoeing.
This is the first step to ensuring your joint is perfectly rolled to burn at the same rate on all sides. If your weed is not crushed correctly from the start, then there’s very little you can do to correct the canoeing anomaly. Thanks to innovations in the weed industry, smokers have no reason to grind their weed with their fingers. You can check out the best weed grinders on the market to ensure your weed is reduced to uniform-sized particles. Equal-sized particles burn at the same rates, which is what you should be after.
Tightly or loosely packed joints always burn unevenly. After grinding your herb to get the same-sized particles, you have to distribute it across the rolling paper evenly. Not too tight and not too loose, and all sides have to contain the same amount of plant materials. You can use your finger to press the herbs down or a sharp-edged ruler to trim off the excess materials before you roll.
The key to achieving an evenly rolled joint is consistency. It would be best if you did not overpay your joint. This would only make it difficult for you to drag. While a loose pack will have different air gaps, What you want is a tight roll void of lumps and bumps. If you can’t get the hang of rolling your joint evenly, you can purchase a rolling machine. Make sure you go for products with high ratings on the market, as these would guarantee you’d get an even burn.
At this point, you should have a precisely rolled joint. However, the probability of your joint canoeing is still very much available. Lighting your joint the right way is another major step to avoiding canoeing.
Some spark up their buds and start puffing away. It is more complex than this. Once you light the tip, you have to rotate the joint slowly to ensure the tip is perfectly lit. As soon as this is done, take short little puffs on the joint, and keep spinning. This way, the joint burns at a uniform rate, and the weed flowers are not wasted.
Avoid taking deep drags immediately after the blunt is lit. It could result in one area burning slower than the other.
Other Pointers to Prevent Joint Canoeing
While the major factors causing canoeing joints have been highlighted above, there are other preventive steps you can adopt to reduce your chances of ending up with a duff joint.
Cure your buds before using
If you grow your own cannabis at home, you must not smoke your buds immediately after harvest. Instead, you have to take your time to dry or cure these buds for a smoother smoke. Skipping the curing stage results in canoeing, less flavorful buds with reduced potency. When buds are properly cured, it would be easier to break them down into uniform sizes.
Use high-quality marijuana and smoking materials.
The best cannabis flowers Try not to cut costs by purchasing rolling papers of inferior quality. The type of rolling paper you use could make or break your rolling technique. You could have perfectly ground buds and have bad roll-ups if your papers are bad. The best rolling papers are thin yet robust. They are produced from rice or hemp materials. You can experiment with different brands of rolling papers to find the one which suits you best.
Photo by Olena Bondarenko/Getty Images
This is not compulsory as not every smoker likes mixing products like hash or resin with their herbs. This is recommended because of the different burning temperatures of each. If concentrated and adequately mixed with herbs, it would slow down the burning rate of the plant materials. It’s nice concentrates increase the potency of the joint; hence, you must exercise caution when adding them.
If you feel you aren’t up to the task of rolling or grinding your weed perfectly, don’t hesitate to buy the appropriate portable machines. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You could also consider switching to high-quality pre-rolled joints. If you stick to the tips in this article, you’ll be smoking perfect joints in no time. Just go ahead and say goodbye to unevenly burning joints. It could take you a few tries to get it right. As they say, practice makes perfect!
