May I introduce you, to the beautiful Nasturtium. It looks like a land lilypad, doesn’t it?
I can vividly recall the first time I encountered this plant.
Ah, I could feel the crisp air standing at the top of this carpark, 10 stories above the ground.
I am walking with a small group of tall people as a guide is introducing us to this urban garden, based in the middle of Melbourne CBD. I see something to my right that seemed like a wall of large, evergreen lilypads. Many round, green leaves are climbing up a trellis, unashamed to take space the width of my armspan. The gardener sees me oodling at it, takes a flower off of the plant, and says, “Have you never seen this before? You can eat the flower too!” The lady besides him shakes the plant, creating a rumbling sound, & gives me a few seeds to take home.
No, not a single seeding survived. Clearly my green thumb skills need improving.
This first encounter happened several years ago, during my first year here in Australia, at this place called Skyfarm. Fast forward a few years, where I am living in a share house in quiet city called Ivanhoe. On one quiet, chilly morning in my backyard, inside a semi-abandoned makeshift pot made of what looks like a half-cut wheelbarrow, sits a familiarly cute plant. It’s a Nasturtium plant! Reminiscing on the day at Skyfarm, I snap off a few Nasturtium leaves, and decide to give the Nasturtium leaves a taste.
So I sit down in my little room to take a few bites. Bite one. I notice this surprising crispness between my teeth. I am then immediately shocked by the peppery zing that shoots through the back of my tongue, then through my nose. What a shock! The contrast of the delicate leaf to it’s strong, peppery taste surprises me. It almost feels like an abomination for something so cute to attack like this. Curiosity builds. “What does the petiole taste like?” Its texture is solid. A suitable stem to uphold a gentle, thin, umbrella-like leaf. Biting into the stem, I notice a sound that in Japanese, sounds like, “shaki (しゃき）”, crispness. It is crispier than the leaf, but oh boy, the pepper taste! The taste of pepper punches me harder than the leaf, making me feel slight regret to try it. Thankfully cats get nine lives, and I now identify myself as a cat.
The verdict? Take note that you’re looking at somebody who struggles with wasabi, so do read this review with that in mind. I feel that the Nasturtium would shine as a condiment. I definitely don’t feel that the Nasturtium would qualify as a standalone dish. It tasted quite peppery. It has a lovely crisp texture in both the leaf and the petiole. A friend once told me that they would pair well with meat, so I’m guessing eating this with something savoury & salty would be great.
Let’s talk native grounds. Can you guess where these crispy land-lilypads started their journey on this planet? When I found out where they are from, it surprised me.
Nasturtiums are from the Andes Mountain in South America, roughly between Peru & Colombia, some even say Chile. Their flowers started as colours of yellow or orange. Over time, the flowers came to also manifest colours of red and cream. Nasturtium can tolerate soils that are chalky, loamy, & sandy, and can grow in a pH range between 5.5 - 7.5, so in soils that are slightly acidic to neutral. Interestingly, if you grow them in infertile soils, you can see these plants produce more flowers. Fertile soil will result in seeing many beautiful greenery, but less flowers. Their microbiome is strong occupied by bacteria like Proteobacteria, with genera like Pseudomonas and Ralstonia being particularly abundant. One day, I’d love to see them in the Andes Mountains with my own eyes.
What’s your memory with this plant? Have a fun fact about them?
I’d love to hear.