Herb of the Month
Cloves--Syzygium
Aromaticum
By Louise Dunlap
Winter holidays in New England can be joyous
with the aroma of cloves--a key ingredient in hot mulled cider,
gingerbread, and pumpkin pie. There is something spirit-lifting
about the penetrating fragrance of these half-inch little dark woody
spikes with the prickly cross and bud-like cushion at one end. Cloves
actually are dried buds from a broad-leafed ever-green tree in the
myrtaceae family (also the same family as Australia's eucalyptus).
The clove tree is native to Indonesia and is now cultivated in countries
close to the Indian Ocean (Madagascar is a primary commercial producer),
as well as the Philippines, Brazil, and the West Indies.
Cloves have been important agents of health
and well-being for thousands of years in the traditions of China
and India. Europeans knew them only as rarities through trade, but
cloves became a steady item of commerce in the west after Magellan
brought them back from his voyage around the world in 1512. Today,
cloves and the oil made from clove buds have many commercial uses,
as well as their continuing roles in cuisine and ayurvedic, Chinese,
and other healing traditions. Learning the full history of cloves
would help us understand globalization as it has unfolded over the
centuries, but I know only a few highpoints.
The herb books tell us that cloves are a part
of longstanding Chinese herbal treatments for indigestion, diarrhea,
intestinal parasites, athlete's foot, and other fungal infections.
Most add that Han dynasty emperors (207 BC to 220 AD) required those
who wished to speak to them to hold cloves in their mouths. The
books speculate that this was to mask bad breath, but who knows?
It may have been to stimulate wise words. Try speaking with these
sharp, spicy little bits in your mouth, and I'll bet you'll say
something special!
My friend reminds me that food preparation
was not separate from healing in cultures more holistically centered
than ours. I'm beginning to get a good sense of this from the way
cloves are used in the cuisine of the Indian subcontinent. Almost
every dish in my cookbook features cloves along with cinnamon, cayenne,
turmeric, cumin, coriander, and ginger--all of them potent as healing
herbs in the ayurvedic system. In symphony, these substances not
only create a joyous aroma for each meal, but also combine their
different properties to keep our energy flowing and our health vibrant.
In this cuisine, cloves are meant to be an aid for respiratory and
digestive problems. In fact the whole lineup of spices in Indian
cooking are intended to stimulate the enzymes which help us digest
plant proteins.
Aromatherapists prescribe essential oil of
clove not only for digestive problems, but also for the relief of
such maladies as burns, acne, arthritis, asthma, colds, and flu.
Most herbalists warn that direct applications of the oil can irritate
the skin, that clove oil should not be used medicinally by pregnant
women, and that clove cigarettes (sometimes used by people trying
to kick the habit) can be as carcinogenic as nicotine. In tiny doses
on the skin, all the same, clove is yet another of the essential
oils that might become your best non-commercial insect repellent.
Growing up in middle America in the fifties
and knowing nothing of their rich cultural history, I still had
a special relationship with cloves. In my family, we used powdered
cloves in miniscule amounts for baking, especially at Christmastime.
We also used the woody little spikes for holiday craft projects
like the eyes and belt buckles of "Apple Santys." These
were fat little Santa Claus figures we toothpicked together out
of big red delicious apples with marshmallow arms, legs, and heads
to which we attached belts, hats, and beards made of surgical cotton.
The apples, the sugary marshmallows, and the spicy cloves blended
into a wonderful aroma that permeated the holidays.
You will experience many of the properties
of cloves if you try making pomander balls--which we children often
labored over as holiday gifts for our relatives. These involve sticking
dozens of "little nails" (as the Dutch call cloves) into
the rinds of a lemon or orange until their surface is covered with
the prickly brown buds. The pomander has to dry out for a couple
of weeks, but as it does, the antiseptic properties of the cloves
prevent it from rotting or molding, and the fruit shrinks like a
mummy, becoming as light as a ping pong ball. Our grandmothers and
aunts loved to store these labors of our love--tied up in beautiful
Christmas ribbons--in closets or drawers, keeping them fragrant
for years. These pungent spheres also discouraged pests. I can remember
staying up late into the night to finish a pomander--my thumbs numb
from pressing the prickly buds into tough orange rinds, yet my senses
alive with the wonderful odor released by the oily citrus glands
and the many broken bits of cloves. The memory returns in full force
whenever I experience the powerful aroma of cloves.
| Any medicinal descriptions are given for information only.
Refer to an herbal medicine book or an herbalist for dosages.
The reader is solely responsible for the results of using
herbal remedies. |
Louise Dunlap teaches yoga and writing,
and is working on a book called Writing for Social Change.
|