Ventura County Star

Lure of Lavender
The purple garden beauty's not just for sachet anymore; insects, humans agree: It's delicious

By Lisa McKinnon
August 6, 2003

To passersby, the clump of lavender growing in the herb garden at Amestoy House in the Upper Ojai is a riotously scented display of purple. To insects, it is a veritable LAX, with takeoffs and landings happening every other second.

No fewer than five green-white cabbage butterflies flit through its fragrant spikes, vying for nectar with an easy dozen bees -- some of them of the big fat bumble variety.

But bugs aren't the only ones abuzz over the herbal spoils of summer. Enter Susan McRae, who barely pauses before taking a stem in hand and stripping it, fat end to thin, so that dozens of plump lavender buds, or calyxes, pile up between her thumb and forefinger.

"I just chase the bees away for a minute," said McRae, who won a blue ribbon for her lavender jelly at the Ventura County Fair in 2000 before deciding to go "pro": She now turns lavender harvests into pink-tinged jellies, infused vinegars and floret-flecked sugars and scone mixes for sale under her Ojai-based California Lavender label.

"Most of the bees are so intent on the lavender that they don't even see me," she added, collecting the flowers in the palm of her hand. "I've never been stung."

Except, perhaps, by early skepticism.

"When I started selling my jelly, the question I would get was, 'Are you sure this is safe to eat?' " McRae said. "Today, the question I am most often asked is, 'What kind of lavender is this?' "

Provence? Grosso? English? That McRae's potential customers know the names of these and other varieties of lavender signals a shift in the perception of lavender not only as the stuff of sachets and body lotions but as the source of subtle flavoring for everything from creme brulee to chicken. Sweet-smelling or slightly fruity lavenders are preferred for the former; robust, almost woodsy varieties are suitable for the latter.

"You can decide how resin-y you want the taste to be," McRae said. "That's a luxury you don't have with other herbs."

It's also something that wasn't well understood when the seminal "The Joy of Cooking" was updated in the mid-1990s: A chapter on herbs practically chased lavender, a member of the mint family, out of the kitchen amid complaints that the plant's leaves and flowers "give a bitter pungency to salads. We prefer to use it as a sachet than as a seasoner."

Flash forward to last month, when Jekka McVicar's "Cooking with Flowers" was published with a recipe for lavender biscuits among its 160 pages.

There is growing interest in edible flowers in general, said McRae. But lavender -- long rumored to have many aromatherapeutic qualities -- is still something of a culinary novelty.

Using it to add color and a touch of flavor to a salad, a flute of Champagne or a freshly frosted chocolate cake isn't just a sign of foodie sophistication; it's also a conversational ice-breaker.

It didn't hurt when Oprah Winfrey joined the discussion.

During her "Favorite Things for Spring" show in May, Winfrey gave a shout out to former gossip columnist and fellow Santa Barbara County resident Rona Barrett for her Miss Rona's Lavender Applesauce. Made with lavender grown in Los Olivos, it's just one of many products sold by Barrett to raise funds for seniors in need (visit the Web site at www.missronaslavender.com).

Helping promote the idea of edible lavender as well as her own products, McRae on Saturday offered her first cooking-with-lavender class at Amestoy House, a 100-year-old schoolhouse where the former classroom has been turned into a cozy exhibition kitchen with just enough space for a long, communal table. (For information about future classes, visit McRae's Web site at www.californialavender.com.)

Students sipped icy pale-pink lavender lemonade poured from a pitcher with two long stems of Lavandula angustifolia -- snipped from the bee-crazy bush out in the garden -- serving as de facto swizzle sticks.

They nibbled on lavender focaccia sprinkled with sea salt and fresh lavender leaves, and watched as McRae, dressed in an herb-print apron, and Sims Brannon, wearing his chef's coat from the Ritz-Escoffier Ecole de Gastronomie Francaise, teamed up to make a creamy, soufflelike cheesecake flecked with lavender flowers both fresh and dried.

Removed from the oven and allowed to cool, the cheesecake was then topped with a glaze made from McRae's lavender jelly, which turned the dessert a pale, glistening pink.

Lavender concoctions typically take on a "browny, pinky, puce" sort of color rather than the lavender or blue some cooks may be anticipating, McRae said. Add an acid like lemon juice to the mix, and the color will shift into the decidedly pink range.

"What gives lavender its color is the same thing that gives blueberries and red cabbage their color -- anthocyanin, a potent antioxidant," said McRae. "The bluer the lavender flower, the more anthocyanins present."

McRae has been collecting and developing lavender recipes for nearly a decade. She admits that some have been more successful than others.

"I made a lavender liqueur once," she said. "It was like drinking perfume."

Ventura County Star

Purple phase
Soothing, lovely lavender grows up, down our coast

By Lisa McKinnon
June 22, 2003

Soothing lavender grows up, down our coast.

Once home to thoroughbred race horses, Clairmont Farms near the tiny Santa Barbara County town of Los Olivos now produces something much more sweet-smelling: lavender.

Owner Meryl Ann Tanz hopes to cut more than 60,000 bundles during a harvest season that runs now through October. Some of the flowers will go to a wholesale floral company in Camarillo. Others will be turned into potpourri, essential oils, and ingredients used by cooks in culinary creations such as lavender leg of lamb and lavender ice cream.

But Tanz and visitors to her farm, which is open to passers-by nearly every day of the year, have discovered the herb has other, less tangible qualities. Gazing out at the curvaceous rows of lavender bushes, their still-green buds waving atop long stems in the afternoon breeze, Tanz let out a sigh.

"Who needs Prozac?" she said with a laugh.

Long prized for its anecdotal abilities to relieve migraines and insomnia, to heal cuts and burns, and to clear the mind as well as the air, lavender has in recent years also begun to serve another purpose: as an antidote to the stresses of modern-day life.

For Tanz it's also a welcome source of income and a way to help spread the herbal gospel: She purposefully planted her lavender along a slight curve in hopes it would look more like "a great big English garden" than typical row farming.

"I wanted a place where people could wander and have something touch their souls," she said.

Egyptians used lavender in the mummification process. England's Queen Victoria decreed that it be used to wash the floors of the royal residences. Today, mass plantings of lavender are the foundation on which some Americans are building second, back-to-the-earth careers as farmers, turning patches of dirt into waving fields of purple.

Along the way, they've helped create a cottage industry that serves the demand both for aromatic bath products and for places where city dwellers can go to sniff the lavender-scented breeze.

Examples abound:

• In 1999, former Southern Californians Susan and Stephen Robins planted lavender at Pelindaba, their 20-acre farm on San Juan Island in the Pacific Northwest. Retired from running a medical communications company, they now receive as many as 250 visitors a day during the summer harvest.
• After moving to a nine-acre farm in the hills of San Diego County in 1998, the husband-and-wife team of Paul Bernhardy and Ellen Sullivan thought they'd make the most of the site's poor soil and plentiful sunshine by planting lavender. Their farm, The Lavender Fields, now offers tours, how-to lavender crafts classes and a general store packed with lavender products. A harvest festival takes place this weekend.
• Back in Santa Barbara County's Santa Ynez Valley, former Hollywood gossip columnist Rona Barrett started her own lavender farm, Luvland, about three years ago. It's rarely open to the public, but proceeds from the sale of Barrett's skin-care products ("Miss Rona's Lavender Anti-Aging Cream") and specialty foods ("Miss Rona's Lavender Applesauce") benefit several charities through her nonprofit foundation, Seniors in Need.

"I think lavender is a very wonderful part of the good life," Barrett told Vanity Fair magazine in 2001. "It's a very medicinal kind of herb, and a lot of people don't realize it's not just a flower ..."

Nose of the beholder

Lavender has long been prized in aromatherapy, the practice of using fragrant concoctions to treat conditions ranging from flatulence to depression.

Its name comes from aromatherapie, a word coined in the early 20th century by French chemist R. H. Gattefosse, whose family owned a perfumery. According to an oft-repeated legend, Gattefosse burned his hand in the lab one day, plunged it into some lavender essential oil he mistook for water and found that the burn healed faster than expected -- and without a scar. (Today, aromatherapists advise against such wholesale application of essential oils without first conducting a skin-patch test.)

Lavender's scent is described as "calming" by some, "stimulating" by others.

Case in point: During a 1998 study by Dr. Alan Hirsch of the Smell and Taste Research Foundation in Chicago, men exposed to a variety of aromas were found to be particularly aroused by the unlikely combination of pumpkin pie and lavender.

The herb is put to other culinary uses at the Ojai Valley Inn & Spa, where sprigs of Provence and French varieties may show up garnishing a plate or whirled into lavender flan.

Lavender in all its forms figures so prominently in the resort's spa treatments that horticulture manager Michaelyn Hodges last year began experimenting with a mass planting of several varieties near the entrance at Highway 150 and Country Club Drive.

Passers-by can see where heavy rains earlier this year killed off patches of the drought-loving plants and where rows of Dutch lavender have been pruned to resemble gray-green pompoms; guests learn to turn the harvested stems into essential oil during herb distillation classes offered Saturday afternoons in the spa courtyard, said Hodges.

When the new lavender field takes root -- probably around the same time the inn emerges late next spring from a year-long remodeling project -- the spa will begin distilling the blooms for its private-label body lotions and other products.

"The calming effect of lavender is remarkable," Hodges said. "I could easily take a nap right after we've been distilling."

Seed of an idea

For Sandy Messori of Rivendell Aromatics, growing more than 20 varieties of lavender in a 40-acre avocado orchard near the Santa Barbara/Ventura county line represents not so much a second career as a variation on the first. An ornamental horticulturist who installed the herb-walk labyrinth at Ojai Valley Inn & Spa according to an ancient design, Messori now acts as a consultant for others interested in starting small lavender farms of their own.

Some of the appeal lies in "the romantic idea of growing something so beautiful and fragrant," she said. "Also, the plant is well-suited for our Mediterranean climate. There is not a lot of work to grow it, once it is planted; just keep the weeds at bay and harvest."

Meanwhile, the demand for lavender may be on the rise.

"I believe there is a definite shift in health care, especially in California, toward a more integrated and wholesome way to treat chronic problems," added Messori, who can be found selling lavender honey, handwoven lavender wands and other items at farmers markets Sundays in Ojai and Thursdays in Carpinteria. "Lavender is one of the most versatile essential oils, treats so many different ailments and is well known throughout history."

Neither the California Farm Bureau nor the California Agricultural Statistics Service keeps track of who is growing how much lavender, and where. But the example set by the Santa Ynez Lavender Co. hints at a quiet proliferation of small lavender farms on the Central Coast.

Started in 1997 with 1,500 plants on a half-acre piece of land, the company has grown to include more than 30 acres tended by 10 growers with property in vineyards, horse ranches and apple orchards.

To help get such farms started, founders Kim Brown and Robert Baker propagate some 60,000 lavender plants from cuttings each year. Favored varieties include Grosso, praised for its cut flowers and essential oil, and Provence, noted for a comparative sweetness that works well in desserts.

Meanwhile, the company produces gallons of lavender essential oil in its distillery, which until earlier this month was located on the grounds of Curtis Winery in Los Olivos. In the spirit of terroir, the term used by French winemakers to refer to a wine's geographic qualities, oil made from lavender grown on site is sold in small, specially labeled bottles.

Without access to a distillery of her own, Tanz sells someone else's essential oils and lavender-infused dog shampoos at Clairmont Farms.

She has owned the property just off Highway 154 since 1976, living there through a brief marriage to a pop star whom she declined to name in print. Breeding racehorses, she said, "turned a big fortune into a small fortune."

So it was that Tanz found herself removing the fences from around her horse field a few years ago and wondering what to do with the resulting empty space. One friend suggested she try growing lavender in Los Olivos' Mediterranean climate; another gave her a metal sign that read "Field of dreams" by way of encouragement.

Tanz put her first plants in the ground in 2001; last year, she harvested 40,000 bundles from her six acres of Grosso lavender.

"It was a risk but it's turning out to be something I can do," she said of her new profession. "I remain fascinated by the healing powers of lavender."

Copyright 2003, Ventura County Star. All Rights Reserved.