By Bob Tedder • My Grandfather Tedder had sagacious advice for those wanting to grow kudzu. Plough a 40-acre field, take a kudzu clipping to the exact center of the area, drop the cutting and then run as fast as you can. James Dickey had a more polished but equally condemnatory view of the American South’s botanical bane in his poem “Kudzu.” This poem is the preface of William Shurtleff and Akiko Aoyagi’s “The Book of Kudzu.” Consequently, the reader reasonably expects a continuing denunciation of what Dickey calls the “green mindless unkillable ghosts.” However, the reader need look no further than the book’s subtitle, “A Culinary & Healing Guide,” to realize this is not the case.
The book contains nuggets of information spanning a wide range of subjects. These include history, geography, biology, medicine and both culinary and couture arts. First, the authors meld history, geography and biology to produce a functional definition of the plant and its origins. It is “… a prolific leguminous vine native to the Orient.” They also observe since its 1876 introduction in the United States it is most prolific in the American Deep South. These observations seem congruent with the thoughts of both Southern hardscrabble farmers and poets alike. From this point, however, the authors – far from condemning kudzu – loudly sing the praises of the vine.
For starters, the book contains 70 recipes, none of which, fortunately, feature a giant dish of hairy-leaved kudzu salad. (I know that’s what you were thinking.) The vast majority of recipes use powdered kudzu root as a thickening agent in soups, sauces and desserts. The first one I intend trying is apple pie with apple juice-kudzu glaze. The medicinal uses of kudzu, again primarily in powdered root form, are also discussed at length. Some appear practical; for instance, a cup of kudzu cream to combat morning sickness. I personally would not recommend the traditional Chinese ingestion of kudzu cream to combat smallpox. If you are a very patient person and a craftsman of sorts there are two chapters devoted to making lightweight fabric comparable to silk. You may skip the horticulture chapter on how to grow the plant – this is the South, after all – but do pick up this book and give it a quick scan. Make the occasional stop when something strikes your fancy because, who knows, you may be the first person to invent a kudzu latte. Either way, both the book and a traditional latte are available at the Speckled Paw for your enjoyment.