The Original “Throat Coat” Tea
Photo Credit: Marshmallow plant, Althea oficinalis By Meneerke bloem – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0 Wikimedia Commons
The West Coast has been hit with historic wildfires this last month, and here in Eugene we had off-the-charts levels of smoke for 10 days straight. Even though I ate soft, soupy oatmeal every morning and drank moistening linden tea every night, my throat is not in great shape.
There are a few herbs known to be incredibly soothing for sore throats, but marshmallow is my hands down favorite. Althea oficinalis lives a beautiful paradox– both her leaves and her medicine are unbelievable soft and yielding, but on the balance she’s tough as nails. Marshmallow grows like a weed, any rough chunk of root crown unceremoniously dropped into the soil will soon become a full-sized 3-6′ plant, needing hardly any water and definitely no fertilizer. Even better, she tolerates our ridiculous clay soils which puddle all winter and bake into concrete in the summer with aplomb.
Although Marshmallow gets a bit gangly later in the summer, in spring she unfolds her velvet leaves quite gracefully, and mid-summer she’s covered with subtle but charming white flowers. I wouldn’t call Marshmallow an ornamental plant, but she’s lovely in her way. My garden is full of neglected corners that could use a little brightening, so I let her wander.
Ideally one would dig marshmallow for medicine in late fall, after the energy of the plant has returned down into the roots. But I needed some, so I went out a few days ago and rummaged around in the soil near a fairly young plant until I found what I was looking for.
Surely there is medicine in all of the roots, but as I understand it the younger, perkier white roots, around the size of a pinkie are best. They are very easy to dig, but annoying to clean. In the past I have painstakingly cut each root into slender julienne before drying, and they are beautiful that way. But this year, a bad case of tendonitis in my wrists has made too much work with my hands off limits, so I just ran them through the slicer on the my food processor and it took about 12 seconds. Sometimes human ingenuity is a beautiful thing.
To make tea with marshmallow root simply put a spoonful or two of root into a jar, pour cold water over and let soak for 3 or 4 hours. If you can break up the root slices a bit before pouring the water over, that will help (either a mortar and pestle or cocktail muddler work great for this). Marshmallow tea is what’s know by herbalists as “mucilaginous.” Depending on how much root you use, you may end up with tea the consistency of thick cream or thin snot. Obviously, I prefer the former, but many folks find the very “coating” nature of thicker marshmallow tea extra soothing. Experiment and see what you like.
Sometimes if I wake up with a sore throat and want instant relief, I will just chew on a few pieces of dried root, letting the “mucilage” work its way to the back of my throat. Either way, Marshmallow offers the most immediate and obvious relief I’ve ever found from herbal medicine. Almost like magic.
I got my original chunk of Marshmallow root crown from a dear friend, and the best gardener I’ve ever known, Jessica Jackowski of Crow Feather Farm. She is also an herbalist and has generously offered this Marshmallow Monograph to help folks get to know this wonderful plant.