Don’t let your dill go down
I recently discovered dozens of dill sprouts in my garden in the bed known as Peaville. Dill might sprout there every spring forever if no one prevents it. Dill plants are visually interesting throughout their entire life cycle, so they deserve space even without considering culinary and medicinal qualities. Also, dill is a prolific self-seeder.
Everybody in the swath from western Europe and northern Africa over to western Asia knew about dill 5000 years ago. Egyptian medical texts extolled its soothing effects on upset stomachs. Dill survived even in Scandanavia, and it is from the Old Norse word “dylla,” meaning “soothe.” Our language arrived at our word “dill.”
Ancient Romans saw dill as a good luck sign and Greeks thought it presaged wealth, both of which, based on the storm of volunteers in Peaville, portend a happy summer for my garden.
Egyptians believed dill displayed in the household would deter witches. I want to speak up for a moment on behalf of witches to point out not all witches need to be warded off. There are plenty non-witches I would ward off first, but the Egyptian point was that dill deters malevolent spirits.
Greeks burned dill oil like incense to freshen their homes and used the leaves and seeds as flavoring agents in wine. Early American churchgoers gave their children dill seeds to chew not only to freshen their breath but to distract them from how hungry they were.
Edward Longshanks was crowned King of England in 1274. He is best known for modernizing the English legislative system, conquering Wales, and invading Scotland. He had other imbroglios to pay for, so when it was time to repair London Bridge, he was cash short. To fill that empty bucket, he imposed a tax on imported dill and other herbs. Who knew a 13th century tax on dill repaired the London Bridge, which is now in Arizona?
Dill is a member of the carrot family which includes celery, parsley, fennel, anise and Queen Anne’s lace. Their flowers, called umbels, are shaped like umbrellas, hence the family name Umbelliferae. The plants prefers full sun and friable, well-drained soil, but don’t we all. Dill plants in even partial shade might not develop as well as those five yards away out of the shadow.
Dill umbels are yellow. Left to mature, they turn brown on dry, wispy stems. A gardener can harvest seeds by simply snipping off dry flowers into a bowl or by covering several dry flowers with a paper bag, tying off the opening, cutting the stem and then letting the bag hang out in a dry, airy place for several days.
Regardless, seeds will scatter all around and the following spring you’ll be glad they did.
Dill is best used fresh. It loses flavor and potency quickly as it dries. If you counted the recipes for dill from Siberia to the Azores and beyond, you’d know how many dills it takes to fill the Albert Hall. Every culture finds a way to use dill. In the United States, we sprinkle fresh dill leaves and chives onto baked potatoes. Same thing in Sweden, where dill is also used to flavor vodka.
Worldwide, dill leaves are used to flavor fish dishes– fish pie, for example, in England, which makes me want to go to Italy instead. Dill combines with olive oil and chopped onions on tomatoes and cucumbers for an easy summer salad.
Russian astronauts endorse the regular consumption of dill for its anti-flatulent properties because, you know… small spacecraft, three grown-ups, and no one goes outside. No wonder they land in the ocean.
But everyone everywhere knows about dill because of pickles. According to folks who count things, Americans eat an average of 8.5 pounds of pickles each year. Not all of them are flavored with dill, but mine are.