Look at this food that will not kill me!

That is Cherokee swamp potato, AKA stiff cowbane, Oxypolis rigidior.

The white guys with PhDs will tell you it's deadly, but luckily, two old Cherokee women interviewed by Mary Chiltoskey (a fascinating woman who married into the Cherokee tnation, who was made an honorary tribal member, and who served the Cherokee in various ways, including recording ethnobotanical knowledge, for over six decades) around 1950 told her it was a root vegetable cooked like potatoes, and that they had collected it when younger.

When I saw that written down, I was stunned. This plant strongly resembles water hemlock, the deadliest plant in North America. Mary would have known this. She would have checked and double-checked, asked and double-asked. I figured no way was she going to write this down unless she was sure--and sure her informants were sure.

But then again, there are all those books and websites claiming that it is deadly. Who to believe? The experts or the Indians?

The Indians, of course. I tried it. I was scared, but I put my faith in Cherokee knowledge.

Ironically, I first learned this plant in Cherokee country, the mountains of western North Carolina with my friend Todd Elliott. Lots of it grew along the creek by his parents' house. I dug it up, just to see how the underground parts differed from water hemlock (deadly) and water parsnip (edible). I tasted a tuber, then spit it out. Todd was alarmed. I thought maybe he would attack me and rip it out of my hand to save me, but he just asked admonishing questions in a concerned voice. I love you, Todd.

The next summer I took the leap and actually cooked and ate a tuber, then a few tubers. Four times. I survived. I fed some to my family. We all survived.

I emailed David Cozzo, current ethnobotanist of the Cherokee, to ask how often the Cherokee swamp potato was eaten today. He told me "Nobody eats that. I think it's just an old ethnobotanical mistake. I'm pretty sure it's poisonous." Glad that I had eaten before asking, I replied "You're making me scared that I am dead, because I ate it four times this year." He was surprised.

Thanks to some Cherokee women, who kept the thread of this knowledge alive, and Mary Chiltoskey, Oxypolis rigidior is now my favorite root vegetable. Yes, absolute favorite, out of all the kinds I have ever eaten, domestic or wild! That's saying a lot.

The day my mother died, I camped at Token Creek just north of Madison, where she used to take me as a child. I grabbed a handful of swamp potato seeds from a plant along the creek and brought them home to start a patch in the wet spot in my orchard. I have been growing this plant since then, learning more about it's form, ecology, life cycle, and use than I can get from all printed and internet sources in existence put together.

In the photo I am holding the proceeds from four average plants I dug up yesterday. I started the seedlings in a bed, then transplanted them out, well spaced and mulched, but not in optimum growing conditions (soil is only moderately rich and a bit dry for them) As you can see, this plant has serious ecoculture potential.

I have found that these plants produce tuberous roots (enlarged tips of radiating roots, without buds) always, but also occasionally makes a rhizome with a single relatively smooth tuber (stem enlargement, with a bud) at the end, and also sometimes an odd, zigzag, lumpy, branching rhizome section with a bud or buds. I was shocked to see this diversity of underground storage organs. (The last is much like what I have found on it's western relative, Oxypolis fendleri.) I have not verified if the tuberous root sections will produce a bud and stem as a means of propagating the plant. I sure hope so. (Will be testing that this year--last year's test plot got destroyed by voles.) Also, it may be hard to see, but I noticed that on the plants I dug up, each had exactly two stem buds for next year, precisely on opposite sides of the parent stem. I have never noticed this symmetry in another plant.

I am picking up threads and braiding them together, to try making something for other people to hold on to. There is a future economy to build, using native North American plants (and the best from elsewhere too), indigenous knowledge, innovation, and hard work.

I love hard work.

Especially when I can fry it in hickory oil.

PS: Adding this after the fact. Some people have misconstrued what I meant by "economies to build." I am talking about personal or household food economies--the original sense of the word "economy" which means "study of the household." I believe that if we are to find food economies that are wholesome, nitritious, sustainable, and spiritually satisfying, it will require many of us to return to deep personal nonmarket relationships to part of our diets. Unfortunately, some people believe that "economy" means "capitalist enterprise" or "exploitive and profitable business." I have deleted a few comments attacking me for using this plant and "commodifying" it (I have never sold it!), and deleted another set of posts claiming that the plant I'm actually showing in this photo is wapato, and that oxypolis rigidior is indeed poisonous