Note:  Many thanks to Lisa Sheirer for her beautiful photography.

Lace doilies sway amid green fabric folds of field and hillside, and the roads of Appalachia are bordered in lace these days—Queen Anne’s lace, that is.  Daucus carota, this introduction from Eurasia, proliferates in sunny wastelands and fallow fields throughout the mountain states and can be found all over the world.  And no wonder.  The entire plant, while reviled by farmers and gardeners for its stubborn taproot, is valuable to humans.  That deep, dull white root is arguably the same species as our supermarket carrot, is an edible wild food, and has a woody core that can be made into paper.  Carrot leaves contain “significant amounts of porphyrins, which stimulate the pituitary gland and lead to the release of increased levels of sex hormones,” says the World Carrot Museum, which explains the plant’s use in ancient spells to increase women’s fertility and men’s potency.  Jellies and dyes can be made from the flower, which is also used in fresh and dried bouquets, and its seeds have both culinary and medicinal value.

The common name supposedly refers to Queen Anne, who ruled England from 1702 to 1714.  She is known for adorning her dresses with lace.  An old wives' tale says that she was an avid lace-maker who called for a contest among her handmaidens to replicate the flower with lace.  She then entered the contest and, as one might expect, won.  Other sources say the correct Queen Anne was James I’s wife, who lived in Shakespeare’s time.  (Macbeth was written for James I, who loved the occult and was descended from the play’s hero, Banquo.)  Other theories for its naming abound, such as its true namesake being Saint Anne, the patron saint of lace.

Underneath the doily is an intricate structure of umbels--short flower stalks (pedicels) that radiate from a central point  like the ribs of an umbrella--that is as beautiful as the showy top.  Most flower heads will include one, sometimes several, deep purple blooms in the middle of the white ones, an important identifying detail that distinguishes these plants from their poisonous relatives.  Folklore says that these purple blooms signify drops of blood from Queen Anne’s pricked finger; they were also believed to prevent epileptic seizures.  I imagine it would take quite a few of these tiny, singular blooms to prove medicinal, but one look at our hillsides will confirm the vast availability of these plants.

The plant’s medicinal qualities are many, with recent research confirming its anti-cancer and other disease-fighting properties.  Root tea from Queen Anne’s lace has been “traditionally used as a diuretic, to prevent and eliminate urinary stones and worms, and science confirms these properties” (Foster and Duke).  “A wonderfully cleansing medicine,” according to Carla Allen and the World Carrot Museum, “it supports the liver, stimulates the flow of urine and the removal of waste by the kidneys.  An infusion is used in the treatment of various complaints including digestive disorders, kidney and bladder diseases and in the treatment of dropsy [and diabetes].”  The seeds have also been used as a “morning after” contraceptive, and “Experiments with mice indicate that seed extracts may be useful in preventing implantation of a fertilized egg” (Foster and Duke).  I agree with the authors that this use is not recommended, though many Web sites are devoted to it.

The World Carrot Museum tell us Daucus carota plant is, on the basis of family and medicinal activity, the closest living relative to the extinct plant Silphion, “which was picked and used by the Romans as a culinary spice and contraceptive until it became extinct in the first century AD. Apparently it was extremely effective.  Supposedly Nero was given the last remaining root” (Allen).   I assume Nero was after another quality it may have shared with our relative, that male potency thing.

The flowers of Daucus carota are beautiful enough to be prized by commercial florists (though, more commonly, florists use the look-alike Bishop’s Flower, or Ammi majus), but their deep tap roots and invasive habit leave them despised by many farmers and gardeners.  This is ironic, given the wild plant’s doppelganger as a beloved garden vegetable.  Dairy farmers also complain that cows that eat this weed will produce unpleasant-tasting milk.  These qualities have led to another common name for the plant, devil’s plague, and possibly another, rantipole, “an old word for a wild, roving, reckless, or ill-behaved person” (Sanders).

Of course, those of us who enjoy wild foods, or at least knowing what they are, recognize the tap roots as carrots.  They're smaller than typical commercial carrots and have none, or very little, of the familiar orange color—they are a drab white—but take one whiff, and the sweet, familiar aroma will leave no doubt.  According to the World Carrot Museum, the original carrots introduced to the West by the Arabs were purple, and they have since been produced in white, yellow, red, maroon, and black.  Many sources claim that today’s familiar orange color was developed by Dutch botanists in the 1600’s to honor the royal House of Orange; however, evidence suggests this color may have been produced much earlier.  In any event, the Netherlanders’ love of orange helped popularize this variety, and they advertised the color to everyone else via their master painters, who often included carrots in their still lifes and works.  Of course, that orange color signifies the food’s rich Vitamin A (carotene*) content, which apparently is not present in strains cultivated in other parts of the world,

This wild Daucus carota is, according to most sources, the same species as the garden carrot; garden ones were cultivated from the wild, and abandoned garden plants will revert to the wild form "in as little as a generation," according to Euell Gibbons.  The World Carrot Museum, however, states that they are different plants, and it is true that the domestic variety is known as Daucus carota sativus while the wild is Daucus carota carota; the two are genetic variants.  “It is a popular myth that domestic carrot was developed from Wild Carrot, probably because of its similar smell and taste,” says the World Carrot Museum.  “Botanists have failed to develop an edible vegetable from the wild root and when cultivation of garden carrots lapses a few generations, it reverts to another ancestral type, a species that is quite distinct.” Yet even this source admits that cultivated carrots easily go wild, so who is to say one pulled up in my yard did not descend from a neighbor’s carrot farm?

Though some say the wild roots are inedible, Euell Gibbons, who would know, says one must merely remove the hard white core after cooking, then toss what’s left with butter and salt, and the result will taste nearly as good—though not quite—as market carrots.  In the nineteenth century, E. Lewis Sturtevant wrote, “So fond of carrots are the Flathead Indians of Oregon that the children cannot forbear stealing them from the fields, although honest in regards to other articles” (qtd. in Sanders).   The World Carrot Museum offers recipes for jellies, wild carrot cakes, and other foods using this plant.  The seeds have also been used as seasoning. Relatives of the plant include dill, caraway, cumin, chervil, coriander, fennel, anise, parsley, parsnip, and celery.  One of the prettiest herbs to come up in my garden has been chervil, a diminutive, near-replica of Queen Anne’s lace.

Later in the summer the flat flower heads will curl upward and form into cups of dried fibers and seeds, giving the plant another common name, “Bird’s Nest.”  I've read that seed heads may fall off and roll away in the breeze like tumbleweeds, or scatter themselves with little spines that hook onto the fur of animals. Fortunately, plenty of them sturdily remain on their stems.  These little aerial nests are lovely additions to dried bouquets, and they add beauty to the winter landscape when they, like tiny spun-sugar cones, fill with snow.

Queen Anne’s lace does tend to be invasive, but I welcome these ethereal-appearing volunteers in my yard.  They can be controlled by digging the new plants out early in the spring.  Queen Anne’s lace is a biennial, meaning it matures over two seasons.  Catch the first-year plants and they will be easier to dig out.  After a winter in the ground, though, the carrots get larger and these second-year plants will be tougher to pull.  However, I find it worth digging a few of these just to enjoy those scrawny white carrots, as they not only grow bigger but also sweeter over those cold months in the ground.  I have not yet eaten any, but I enjoy seeing and smelling them, and next spring I plan to try Gibbons’ simple recipe—or perhaps I’ll resurrect a favorite childhood treat—carrots sliced into coin-shapes, salted, and laid out between two slices of Wonder Bread.  Not the easiest sandwich to eat, as the carrot slices tend to fall out, but so sweet and tasty!  (I may have to update the bread, however.  Some of my tastes have matured.)

Daucus carota is a terrific wild food to know about—but knowing about it, and its poisonous look-alikes, is essential before attempting to eat anything that appears to be Queen Anne’s lace.  Some of the lace on the roadsides may, in fact, be the carrot’s poisonous relatives.  Many flowers in the parsley/carrot/parsnip family look similar to Queen Anne’s lace, and many of them are toxic.  Small amounts of poison and water hemlock (Conium maculatum and Cicuta maculata, respectively), both found locally, will kill if eaten.  Socrates was forced to drink a mixture containing water and/or poison hemlock as punishment for supposedly corrupting the minds of Athens youth, dying a painful death as a result.  A sad end for a man who is known for his Ethics.

So how do you know whether you have the edible version?  First, look for that central purple bloom among the ivory-white ones.  The stems of Daucus carota are usually hairy, while the poisonous ones are not; and its flower heads are not divided, as is the case in some of the poisonous varieties.  Queen Anne’s lace is usually neither as fully branched nor as tall as poison and water hemlock.  The poisonous plants often have stems spotted or streaked with purple (purple color in stems frequently indicates poison), and the roots apparently do not smell like carrots.

Mistakes are common.  In fact, the second image in my Google image results was most definitely not Queen Anne’s lace—its flower head was divided into a number of smaller flower bunches and the underlying umbel was too visible.  This image from About.com illustrates why wiki-type Web sites can be dangerous.  I hope no one eats a plant that looks like that thinking it to be carrot, as it may well be deadly poisonous.

A medicinal look-alike species, Angelica (Angelica atropupurea), grows near poison hemlock and also has purplish stems.  However, according to Peterson’s Medicinal Plants and Herbs, “Harvest [of Angelica] should be avoided unless positively identified by a trained botanist" (Foster and Duke).

We humans are not the only ones who appreciate Queen Anne’s lace.  According to the online Study of Northern Virginia Ecology, “Some animals have benefited from the arrival of this wildflower. Caterpillars of the Eastern Black Swallowtail butterfly eat the leaves, bees and other insects drink the nectar, and predatory insects, such as the Green Lacewing, come to Queen Anne's lace to attack.”   Keeping some wild plants in the garden to attract insects that prey on common garden pests is a great way to lessen or avoid the use of chemicals.  To the best of my knowledge, I use no toxic chemicals in my garden and have admittedly holey petals and leaves, but I would not want to use my plants as food or medicine if they had been sprayed or treated with toxins, and I don’t want to pass those toxins on to wildlife that ingest the plants, or contaminate my soil.  This year, a weed I have yet to identify saved my Rose of Sharon trees from Japanese beetles, critters that normally feast on them.

Apparently, the flowers can also be used to produce a chartreuse dye.  “Using alum for mordant, wool, and local water,” says Katknit, a contributor to the online blog You’re History, “year after year I have produced nearly identical shades of truly vivid yellow-greens.  They tend to be reasonably colorfast, as well as reliable. The carroty aroma that arises during the dye process is also a plus.”  Even paper can be made from the woody roots.

The evidence of Queen Anne’s lace’s good qualities is enough for me to keep these plants in my yard despite their tendency to proliferate.  They gracefully mingle among the store-bought and other wild perennials in my gardens and in my bouquets, making them worth the trouble of digging up a few roots when they become invasive.  I hope my neighbors aren't offended, as I realize many people regard such weeds with disdain, somewhat like contemporary commercial food critic Michael Pollan's grandfather, who "patrolled his pristine rows, beheading the merest smudge of green with his vigilant hoe.  Hippies, unions and weeds: all three made him crazy then, an old man in the late 1960's, and all three called forth his reactionary wrath."

Besides, should the world as we know it come to an end, I will have an abundant carrot crop to help stave off starvation, and perhaps these well-meaning but misguided aesthetes will be knocking at my door!

Notes

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According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word carotene was coined  in 1831 by H.W.F. Wackenroder from the Latin carota "carrot" + German form of the chemical suffix -ine. Carotene is a pigment that is converted (in some forms)  in the liver to Vitamin A.

References

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Allen, Carla.  "Wild Carrot: Queen Anne's Lace." The World Carrot Museum. n.d.  http://www.carrotmuseum.co.uk/queen.html.

Foster, Steven, and James A. Duke.  A Field Guide to Medicinal Plants and Herbs of Eastern and Central North America, 2d ed.  The Peterson Field Guide Series.  Boston:  Houghton-Mifflin, 2000.

Pollan, Michael.  "Weeds R Us."  New York Times Magazine 5 Nov. 1989 .  Reprinted at MichaelPollen.com, http://www.michaelpollan.com/article.php?id=18 .

Sanders, Jack.  The Secrets of Wildflowers. 2003. Guilford, CT:  Globe Pequot Press.  Also available online at Google Books--but I recommend the beautiful printed version.