Edgar. Half way down
Hangs one that gathers Samphire, dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.
King Lear, iv. 6.
Samphire is St Peter’s Herb, and gains the distinction either because it grows on sea-cliffs, and so is appropriate to the patron of fishermen, or more probably, because it flourishes on rocks, and its roots strike deep into the crevices. The French call it Herbe de St Pierre and Pierce-Pierre, from its peculiar way of growing; and the Italians have the same name, but call it Finocchio marino as well; and this title, translated to Meer-finckell, was also the German and Dutch name, according to Parkinson. It is strongly aromatic, “being of smell delightfule and pleasant, and hath many fat and thicke leaves, somewhat like those of the lesser Purslane... of a spicie taste, with a certaine saltness.” Gerarde praises it pickled in salads. Edgar’s words show that it must have been popular in Elizabethan days, and so it was for more than a hundred years after as “the pleasantest Sauce”; and Evelyn considered it preferable to “most of our hotter herbs,” and “long wonder’d it has not long since been cultivated in the Potagère as it is in France. It groweth on the rocks that are often moistened, at the least, if not overflowed with the sea water,” a verdict which tallies with the saying that Samphire grows out of reach of the waves, but within reach of the spray of every tide. I have found it growing in much that position on rocks on the seashore in Cornwall. Two other kinds of Samphire, Golden Samphire (Inula Crithmifolia) and Marsh Samphire (Salicornia Herbacea), are sometimes sold as the true Samphire, but neither of them have so good a flavour.
Skirrets (Sium Sisarum).
The Skirret and the leek’s aspiring kind,
The noxious poppy-quencher of the mind.
The Salad.—Cowper.
“This is that siser or skirret which Tiberius the Emperour commanded to be conveied unto him from Gelduba, a castle about the river of Rhine,” and which delighted him so much “that he desired the same to be brought unto him everye yeare out of Germanie.” Evelyn found them “hot and moist... exceedingly wholesome, nourishing and delicate... and so valued by the Emperor Tiberius that he accepted them for tribute”—a point that Gerarde’s statement hardly brought out. “This excellent root is seldom eaten raw, but being boil’d, stew’d, roasted under the Embers, bak’d in Pies whole, slic’d or in Pulp, is very acceptable to all Palates. ’Tis reported they were heretofore something bitter, see what culture and education effects.” On the top of these congratulations, perhaps it is unkind to say the reported bitterness has a very mythical sound, for long before Evelyn’s time, the Dutch name for skirret was Suycker wortelen (sugar root), and that Marcgrave has extracted “fine white sugar, little inferior to that of the cane” from it. But from Turner’s account there seems to have been formerly some confusion as to the identity of the plant, and one claimant to the title was somewhat bitter, so perhaps this was the cause of the remarks in Acetaria. In Scotland, Skirrets were called Crummock. Though few people seem to have appreciated them so much as did our ancestors, they were till lately sometimes boiled and sent to the table, but are now hardly ever seen.
Smallage (Apium graveolens).
Smallage is merely wild celery, and all that is interesting about it is Parkinson’s description of his first making acquaintance with sweet smallage—our celery, which has been already [quoted]. He merely says of ordinary smallage that it is “somewhat like Parsley, but greater, greener and more bitter.” It grows wild in moist grounds, but is also planted in gardens, and although “his evil taste and savour, doth cause it not to be accepted unto meats as Parsley,” yet it has “many good properties both for inward and outward diseases.”