The flower of the Chicory is truly a fleeting thing – firm and resplendent in the morning and a limp dirty rag by late afternoon. Sunrise calls forth a sparse assortment of stunning baby blue blooms from this common roadside plant (see here). A circular array of toothed petals surrounds a cluster of deep blue floral parts.  These center parts are the actual flowers themselves – the “petals” are simply window dressing to attract pollinating insects to the nectary heart. 

  By mid day, the color begins to drain from the flowers (see here) and their intensity is diminished. Things are pretty well done by late afternoon as the petals take on the appearance of used paper towels.  In a world of transitory flowers, the Chicory’s transition is the most dramatic. Take a look at a side by side comparison photo I took this morning, showing a new flower next to the remains of yesterday’s effort. The reality of the Chicory is that the blossoms are the only delicate thing about this plant.

  Chicories are legal immigrants which arrived on our shore centuries ago.  Here in the New World, it found wild roothold in the harsh conditions offered by our roadsides and parking lots – hard packed, sun baked ground. The plant itself is barely more than a cluster of relatively bare thickened stems with very few leaves, so is not especially attractive. The leaves that are present look very much like those of a dandelion and serve to remind us of the family relationship with that plant.

  Such a conservative approach to growth above the ground is countered by an exceptionally robust taproot below.  This white root gathers in what little moisture is available and the sparse leaves keep that water from evaporating off. Even the bloom schedule is right wing, since it invests a small daily dose of excitement in the form of those terrific little flowers.  

   The hardscrabble way of life exhibited by this hardy plant has an Oliver Twist type of flare, and so it seems appropriate that Charles Dickens himself once wrote about the Chicory.  He approached the subject not on a fictional basis, but instead as an article in his “Household Words: A Weekly Journal” published in 1853.  In an article entitled “Justice to Chicory,” Dickens writes: “Because we do not like to receive chicory under the name of coffee, it by no means follows that we object to receive chicory in it’s own name, or that we consider it wrong to marry chicory and coffee to each other…only let it not be a secret.”  So, what in the Dickens is he talking about?  Well, he’s referring to the primary use of the Chicory as a coffee additive and the shady practice of using it as filler or labeling it as pure coffee.

  As “Poor Man’s Coffee”, or “Coffeeweed,” the chicory has long been grown for its beverage potential. This is probably why it made it “over the pond” in the first place.  The root is ground and roasted to make an infusion or drink. Such a drink can stand on its own merit, but ground chicory is usually added to coffee as a flavor enhancer. Dickens goes on to say that, “by combining of a little chicory with coffee, the flavour of the coffee is not destroyed, but there is added to the infusion a richness of flavour, and a depth of colour – a body which renders it…much more welcome as a beverage.” In other words, it makes coffee taste gooder (but how can you improve on Dicken’s prose.)

  Our scraggly escapee bears little resemblance to the cultivated plant – of which there are several varieties.  While our wild plant can be rendered into “coffee,” the result may leave you wanting for a rich foster parent who can afford the real thing.