Tasmanian Plants

A single field trip up toward the Central Highlands offers plenty for a plant lover to see and do. One thing that must be done however, is to pay homage to the cider gums (Eucalyptus gunnii) of the highland areas.

This cider gum is a tree of immense significance to Tasmania’s natural history. It is aptly named the cider gum for it’s sap, which has been reported to be used by the aborigines to make a much relished fermented drink (see article). I  was way too late to experience the spring sap that allegedly drips from the tree inviting all to partake of it’s sweetness. What would I give to try that out! It would be one of the most direct means of communion with the cider gum. On this occasion however, my objective was merely to make an acquaintance with the Cider Gum in it’s natural abode.

I drove along the Highland Lakes road north of Miena hoping to catch sight of some cider gums. There are two known subspecies, both of which are endemic to Tasmania. The more common one, E. gunnii subsp. gunnii (simply referred to as the cider gum) is well distributed throughout the highland regions of the southeast, central, and western Tasmania. The other subspecies, E. gunnii subsp. divaricata is known as the Miena Cider Gum, and has a much more restricted distribution to a small area around Miena around the Central Highland lakes. It’s status as a subspecies of the commoner cider gum was only recently elucidated in a publication by Prof. Brad Potts, Dr Wendy Potts and Dr Gintaras Kantvilas in 2001. Previously, the Miena Cider Gum was known as Eucalyptus divaricata.

I practically screeched to a halt when I sighted just by the side of the road, two large and stately trees which I suspected might be the Miena Cider Gum.

I got out and scanned the surrounds. There were quite a number of dead trees in the vicinity but these two trees were different. They exuded a vibe of vitality. I studied them intently, looking out for characters that might give me an opportunity for identification.

A low hanging branch gave me access to photograph a cluster of their leaves and their capsules. The adult leaves also had a slightly pale whitish (glaucous) appearance and there was the persistence of very glaucous, rounded and oppositely arranged juvenile leaves.

Prof Pott’s paper had mentioned that the capsules of the Miena Cider Gum also tend to be more glaucous. The capsules are supposedly a slightly more sub-urned shaped compared to the more consistently bell shaped capsules of the commoner subspecies.

The combination of characters of the Miena Cider Gum seemed to match the specimen I was looking and I am happy to conclude that that was what my specimen was.

More important than the dry an technical act of nailing an subspecific identity to the tree however, was the feeling of communion. Few experiences compare to an acquaintance with trees of such haunting magnificence and presence. There is no words for it, only feelings that linger. Silence would probably make the best conveyance of this.

If you’ve ever eaten blueberries or cranberries it might not come as a surprise that the Tasmanian answer to those superfoods are none other than the epacrids. Many Tasmanian species produce edible, and some of which are highly palatable.

Over the past few years and particularly this spring and summer I have been making it a point to try out all the heath plants I could find. Here’s a list of what I know are edible epacrids which I have sampled and my thoughts on their palatality (a score of 1 being the least palatable and 5 being absolutely irresistable). Bon appétit.

(Note. Please see my DISCLAIMER if you find yourself helplessly reaching for these berries and popping them in your mouth)

Acrothamnus montanus (Snow Beardheath)
The red berries are somewhat persistent. It’s not fabulous but worth a try. Score: 2.5/5.

Acrotriche serrulata (Ant’s Delight)
This one has a unique smell to it and has the most distinctive taste of the lot. Pick the whitest berries. Score: 4/5.

Astroloma humifusum (Native Cranberry)
Definitely a good eat when ripe. Make sure the berries are yellow-yellowish before picking. Score: 4/5.

Astroloma pinifolium (Pine Heath)
As with the Native Cranberry, this is a good eat when ripe. Pick berries that are as yellow as possible, to the point of appearing a little translucent. Score: 4/5.

Top left: Acrothamnus montanus (Snow Beardheath) Top right: Acrotriche serrulata (Ant's Delight) Bottom left: Astroloma humifusum (Native Cranberry) Bottom right: Astroloma pinifolium (Pine Heath)

Cyathodes glauca (Cheeseberry) and C. straminea (Spreading Cheeseberry)
Very attractive to behold. Very satisfying to pick. Very gratifying to bite into. But alas, it is a little astringent, leaving a slightly dry taste on the tongue. I wouldn’t say it tastes particular cheesy either. I wouldn’t eat much of it unless I were desperate. I have yet to try Cyathodes dealbata (Carpet Cheeseberry) and C. platystoma (Tall Cheeseberry). Score: 1.5/5.

Gaultheria hispida (Copperleaf Snowberry)
An attractive shrub of Tasmania’s subalpine to alpine regions. I cannot recommend it more. Pick ‘em and eat ‘em when white. Score: 4/5.

Leptecophylla abietina (Seaspray Pinkberry), L. divaricata (Spreading Pinkberry) and L. juniperina (Pinkberry)
The berries of these species, particularly L. juniperina are so prolific at the correct season, you’d wonder why the birds don’t get to it before you do. Once you take a bite you might gather some understanding of why this might be the case. What I said of Cyathodes applies here. I have not tried L. pendulosa (Drooping Pinkberry). Score: 1.5/5.

Leucopogon parviflorus (Coast Beardheath)
It’s one of the wonders of the Tasmanian coast! Hunt for them at any vegetated Tasmanian beach. The berries ripen white and dislodge easily in great numbers when ruffled by the hand. They were meant to be eaten! The berries make a sweet, slightly salty (little wonder why), slightly sharp tasting snack. I have not managed to try L. australis (Spike Beardheath) or L. lanceolata (Lance Beardheath) and I will update this post when I do. The other common Leucopogons have dry fruits and are not worth trying. Score: 4.5/5.

Top left: Cyathodes glauca (Cheeseberry) Top right: Cyathodes straminea (Spreading Cheeseberry) Bottom left: Gaultheria hispida (Copperleaf Snowberry) Bottom right: Leucopogon parviflorus (Coast Beardheath)

Lissanthe strigosa (Peachberry Heath)
Aptly named the Peachberry Heath, the fruits of this species have a ‘downy’ appearance like a peach. It is hard to find mature fruit. I’ve tried but I may have gotten immature ones with very thin pulp. Score: not rated as yet.

Pentachondra pumila (Carpet Frillyheath)
Not always easy to get the berries but surely worth a try. Score: 3.5/5.

Left: Lissanthe strigosa (Peachberry Heath) Right: Pentachondra pumila (Carpet Frillyheath)

Planocarpa petiolaris (Alpine Cheeseberry)
I do not have a fruit photo to show at the moment but will put it u when I get one. Trust me thought when I say that they are good to look at. The gastronomical verdict however is as with Cyathodes. I am not surprised since the genus Planocarpa was once part of Cyathodes. From their fruit shalt ye know them! Have yet to try the other two indigenous species of Planocarpa. Score: 1.5/5.

Richea dracophylla (Pineapple Candleheath) and R. scoparia (Scoparia)
Not so much for eating. These species produce dry fruit. However, when flowering, the petals, which fuse into a cap-like structure, can be plucked off and the petal bases can be sucked at. See my video. In my opinion, Richea dracophylla produces a more flavorful nectar. Richea gunni (Bog Candleheath) might also be worth a try. Score: 4/5.

Left: Planocarpa petiolaris (Alpine Cheeseberry) Centre: Richea dracophylla (Pineapple Candleheath) Right: Richea scoparia (Scoparia)

Styphelia adscendens (Golden Heath)
A gift from the coastal heath! This rather prostrate heath plant makes for a good snack. The berries are almost totally covered in brownish papery bracts but try to pick yellow berries. Score: 4/5.

Trochocarpa gunnii (Fragrant Purpleberry) and T. thymifolia (Thymeleaf Purpleberry)
The fragrant purpleberry is a rainforest plant. Tried it a few times but have never been too impressed. It is very mildly sweet but has the same effect on the tongue as the Pinkberry (Leptecophylla spp.) once but can’t remember the taste. I’d eat it if I am lost in a rainforest and forgot to bring a sandwich. The thymeleaf purpleberry is a shrub of alpine areas. Tried it before too but have since forgotten the taste. Have not tried T. disticha (Spreading Purpleberry)) or T. cunninghamii (Straggling Purpleberry). Watch this space. Score: not rated as yet.

Top: Styphelia adscendens (Golden Heath) Bottom leaft: S. adscendens fruit Bottom centre: Trochocarpa cunninghamii (Straggling Purpleberry) Bottom right: Trochocarpa gunnii (Fragrant Purpleberry)

As a little experiment, I made a short first time video on the Pineapple Candleheath (Richea dracophylla) last month. Note that I got the specific epithet wrong (I said Richea ‘dracophyllum‘) in the video.

It’s endemic, it’s delicious. What more can I say.

Tasmania’s floral emblem, the Blue Gum (Eucalytus globulus), is a tree of many talents.

It has one of the largest blossoms among eucalypts.

It is among some of the world’s tallest flowering trees.

It is the major source of eucalypt oil and an important source of pulpwood.

I could list much more but that would be best elaborated in a post on it’s own. Suffice it to say for now that the Blue Gum is a Tasmanian icon, a view shared by Prof. Brad Potts during a public lecture on the 12 Nov 2009 celebrating 100 years of Biology in UTAS. During the lecture, Prof. Potts expounding on the cultural, ecological, economic and scientific significance of the tree.

But while the science and verbal transmission of the Blue Gum’s natural history will appeal to our intellect, and the Blue Gum’s large showy blossoms to our visual senses, there must be more that this world renown tree has to offer.

And indeed, few avenues offer as visceral an experience as the modality of taste in enabling an appreciation the Blue Gum’s contribution to Tasmanian culture.

There is little one may eat of the Blue Gum though.

It is possible to make a tea from the leaves of the Blue Gum but my plans to do that was quickly superseded when I saw a jar of miellerie unheated Blue Gum honey sitting at Meredith’s Orchard Fruit and Vegetable market at Margate, South East Tasmania.

Like the Prickly Box honey I’ve written about in a previous post, the Blue Gum honey was raw and unprocessed. It was however, a little more creamy in texture and had less of an aromatic fragrance.

The honey smelled somewhat like the very mildly foetid scent of fresh eucalypt blossoms. The subtle flavor of the honey does not immediately hit one’s tongue. I spread a teaspoonful of the creamy substance on my tongue and proceeded to lather it on my palate. Doing that allowed me to experience the full taste of the honey. The words that come to mind are ‘cool’ and ‘mildly minty’. The light pleasant flavour is sure to be pleasing to some.

While it might still be a while before Blue Gum honey comes close to achieving the kind of fame Leatherwood honey enjoys, Blue Gum honey is a must try for anyone wishing to imbibe in Tasmania’s botanical produce. Then one might proudly say:

I have not only seen the floral emblem of Tasmania…I’ve tasted it!

Honey must really be one of the highlights of the gastronomical adventures of a botanist!

To me, tasting a plant, or a product derived from it is another way of knowing a plant. A kind of communion.

For years I have admired the faithful blossoms of the Christmas Mintbush (sometimes simply called Christmas bush) (Prostanthera lasianthos var. lasianthos). These blossoms are without question one of the greatest attention grabbers of the wet eucalypt forest in summer. Up close, an reddish ‘heart’ pattern is evident in the throat of the corolla.

Even in it’s non-flowering seasons, the Christmas Mintbush is an attractive tree, with glossy leaves bearing toothed margins. And as may be expected of members of the mint family (Laminaceae), the Christmas Mintbush gives off the characteristic and pleasant minty smell when the leaves are crushed.

But it was only this year that I got to partake of the Christmas Mintbush’s true virtue – I bought a small 160g jar of Christmas Mintbush honey.

There is little point trying to describe the subtle nuances of taste, though I try (See post on Prickly Box Honey).

Christmas Mintbush honey. Heavenly sweet, of course. I could perhaps add that there was no minty over or undertones, which was not a bad feature. A pure flavour of floral fragrance.

Sublime?

Unquestionably.

Left to my partner and I, the small jar stood no chance of lasting the day. Winnie the Pooh would have been put to shame.

Most bushwalkers probably know of the Common Native Cherry (Exocarpos cupressiformis) as a bush food but it is still worth blogging about.

Whenever I see ripe fruit on the Common Native Cherry, I always pluck some for refreshment. While we certainly don’t NEED native tidbits to supplement our well stocked lunch boxes of sandwiches, fruits and nuts, it is a most sublime feeling to appreciate what the bush has to offer. The act of harvesting wild edible fruit, little as there may be, feels like a sort of communion. I give thanks for such opportunities.

The Common Native Cherry grows common in open eucalypt woodland. In it’s ideal state, the Common Native Cherry is a dense small dull green conical tree attaining a height of no more than 8 m. Most of the time though, a good proportion of the fruit-bearing branches are well within reach. Talk about low hanging fruit.

The branches are green, groovy and leafless, giving it the same general appearance of some native Cypress Pines (Callitris spp.). In addition, the Common Native Cherry sometimes has wooden galls as well, giving the impression that it bears cones. However, small spikes of minute yellow flowers present on the branches at most if not all times of the year will distinguish it immediately.

Also, the fruits of this tree are unmistakable. Usually only one flower out of the spike is fertilized and the fruit is really only the hard ovoid structure held on the end of a fleshy receptacle which gets more succulent and redder as the fruit ripens. In many ways these fruits resemble minute versions of the curious fruits of cashew nuts (Anacardium occidentale). The edible part is not actually the fruit but the red ripened and swollen receptacle, which has a sweet taste (See my DISCLAIMER). I don’t often see ripe ‘fruits’ on all trees in any one given locality so there must be some staggering of fruit production.

While it is not very apparent, the Common Native Cherry is actually a semi-parasitic plant which parasitises on the roots of eucalypt trees around it.

It might be surprising for some to learn that the Common Native Cherry is from the Santalaceae, the same botanical family that bears the well known sandalwood (Santalum album). Macabre is the thought that the ‘blood’ of the Common Native Cherry’s victims goes into the making of the succulent fruits we enjoy.

Sap-sucker or not, I imagine that the Common Native Cherry must have been to Tasmanian aborigines what wild blackberries are to Europeans. Wild sweet juicy fruit is good anywhere!

There must be hardly a single Tasmanian who has never seen the Sagg (Lomandra longifolia), one of the most widespread and common of plants in Tasmania. It is also widely cultivated as a native horticultural plant.

Despite being a very common element in the Australian flora, the Sagg and it’s relatives have a rather complex family history. While the Sagg resembles a sedge or a grass, it is nowhere related to these two plant groups.

Some people refer to Sagg and it’s relatives as a mat-rushes, but these again are nowhere related to the real rushes (Juncus spp.).

Plant taxonomists have placed Lomandra variously into the Grasstree family (Xanthorrhoeaceae) and even into a family of it’s own, Lomandraceae. Surprisingly, the Angiosperm Phylogeny Group suggests that the Sagg is a member of the Laxmanniaceae, the same family to which Chocolate lillies or Vanilla lilies (Arthropodium spp.) and fringelilies (Thysanotus spp.) belong.

Despite grasses and grass-like plants being very difficult for the budding naturalist to identify, the Sagg is extrmely easy to pick out.

In a non-flowering state, they can be easily picked out by their forked leaf tips. When in flower, the heads of cream flowered blossoms subtended by bract-like spines cannot be mistaken for anything else.

Not surprisingly, the Sagg was one of the first plants I learned to recognize in Tasmania. However, I never knew that Sagg could be a snack until I read Tim Low’s Wild Food Plants of Australia. (Read also my DISCLAIMER)

The white inner leaf bases of the plants are apparently edible and according to Tim, tastes like fresh green peas. I wanted to try for myself and so harvested a few stems.

Proper care should be taken when harvesting Sagg stems. I ran my fingers gingerly all the way down to the base of the plant and felt around till I could get a good secure grip before pulling the plant out of the ground. This I did because the leaves, like many sedge leaves, have edges which are more than capable of giving one a serious laceration. The leaves were apparently used by aboringes as material for basket making of which I have written of in a previous post.

The base of the stem is whitish and cylindrical and is fine to just chew  on. One could also remove the leaf bases around the stem base and get to the pith, which has somewhat the texture of a bamboo shoots.

I agree with Tim though that the Sagg makes a refreshing snack.

I also tried out the flowers but they were rather tasteless. Perhaps evening was not a good time to eat the flowers. In any case, if the flowers are to be eaten, do be careful of the ‘spines’ on the inflorescence. Not nice perforating one’s tongue or lips.

Nevertheless, bush rambling will never be the same again now that I have been initiated into the Sagg snack.

Weeds can be a avenue of gastronomical adventure. Today I’ve had my first taste of a weed called Onion Grass (Romulea rosea) of the Iris family (Iridaceae). The scientific name actually refers to the Roman emperor Romulus and the specific epithet ‘rosea‘ alludes to the flower’s pink rosy petals. Other common names of this plant include Guildford Grass and Rosy Sandcrocus.

Onion grass is an endemic of the Western Cape Province in South Africa. It is actually a rather attractive plant, the pink flowers having a yellow center with dark streaks radiating from it. The green unripe fruits of the Onion Grass appear in late spring, on a stalk that curves downward toward the soil, presumably getting ready for seed dispersal. In summer the fruits dry out and split, releasing numerous brown seeds.

Perhaps as a result of it’s efficient dispersal strategy and it’s ability to produce corms, Onion grass has become a permanent fixture in grassy landscapes in Australia and Tasmania, and pops up unfailingly every spring.

I highly doubt that the Tasmanian aborigines had much opportunity to make Onion grass part of their diet but there is no reason why WE cannot included it as a bush tucker plant. However, please see my DISCLAIMER if you should attempt to eat any plant described under my Bush Tuck posts.

Though small (c. 1 cm in length), the unripe fruit of the Onion grass makes for a nice snack. It might appeal to those with a sweet tooth. I could graze on this all day. My partner took an instant liking to it too. Apparently, we are latecomers to this bush delight. Many older Australians on the mainland have relished the Onion grass fruits in their childhood days (see discussion on Flickr). Some people even refer to the fruits as ‘Plum Puddings‘.

Peeling the fruit wall off to get to the fleshy seeds seems pointless for such a small fruit. It was simpler to just bite into the fruit and chew till the sweet juices of the seeds are exhausted.

The small pea-sized turnip-shaped corms are edible too. Assuming what I can only hope approximates the flair of an aborigine, I dug up some corms using an ad hoc digging stick, pealed away the brown outer skin, and chewed on white-fleshed interior.

The initial taste was one of very concentrated water chestnuts (Eleocharis dulcis) but this was followed by a rather bitter aftertaste.

I probably wouldn’t eat too many corms if I could help it. However, I have read that Long-billed Corellas (Cacatua tenuirostris) and Water Hens (Porphyrio porphyrio) seem to like the corms.

Next spring I’d be looking out for more ‘Plum Puddings’.

Go bush walking in any dry forest or heath in Tasmania and it is unlikely that one will miss spotting the Prickly Box (Bursaria spinosa). It is one of the most ubiquitous of Tasmania’s dry forest shrubs.

The Prickly Box is also an attractive plant with great potential for native gardening or bonsai-ing. While it is probably hard for those uninitiated in botany to guess what the Prickly Box might be related to, those with an eye for ornamentals might find the Prickly Box resembling Privets (Lingustrum spp.) or Box trees (Buxus spp.).

Surprisingly, however, the Prickly Box belongs to the Pittosporaceae, making it a relative of the commonly cultivated Sweet Pittosporum (Pittosporum undulatum).

Unobtrusively, this native shrub has made it’s way into health shops.

As part of a gradual move toward healthier living and eating, my partner and I visited one such health store in town, Goulds Naturopathica.

Whilst browsing through vials of essential oils and packets of herbal teas, we spotted a jar of miellerie honey on the shelves and the words “Prickly Box” caught my attention. We bought the jar on the spot.

Upon getting home, we wasted no time in trying our purchase. Plunging a teaspoon into the jar,  we were surprised at the consistency of the honey — it was hard like frozen butter.

Certainly not your average honey on which you can use a honey dipper!

I ate a small piece and I must say it is among the most fragrant of honeys I have ever tasted, way exceeding y expectations and better than some of the best leatherwood honey I’ve sampled.

With the spoonful of honey chunks she dug out, my partner made a mug of honey beverage and was duly impressed at the superb taste.

As the honey is organic (I don’t know of any Prickly Box plantations anyways), it’s a little pricey, but it is definitely worth trying!