Hyssop Plant: Herb Mis-Identification

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I especially liked that creeper with the blue flowers. I couldn’t remember its botanical name, but I made a tag for it anyway, calling it “Creeping Hyssop”. 

A friend called recently to tell me about a book he was writing. “It’s about all the worst mistakes that gardeners have made in their gardens over the years,” he said. “Do you have anything to contribute?” I started thinking about gardening mistakes I have made over the years and what I have learned from them. One particularly memorable blooper came to mind.

I grow about 400 different herbs, and each year I try 3 or 4 new ones. I keep the ones I like and let the rest go their own way. A dozen years ago, I went to one of my favorite nurseries to buy my yearly supply of annuals and new herbs. The owner is a friend, and we always talk nonstop while I’m there. Because I know most of her plants, she usually just lists my plants and totals them up on a receipt, without bothering to label the individual pots.

That day, we talked a great deal about hyssop. We discussed its long history as a battle-wound plant and its reputation as one of the bitter herbs of the Bible. As we walked through the aisles of rose and lemon-scented geraniums and bay trees, my friend told me of researchers she had read about who examined why hyssop appears in so many historical references as a treatment for battle wounds. What they discovered was that hyssop is a host for a kind of mold that produces penicillin.

“Applying a poultice of fresh hyssop was actually a topical application of penicillin!” she said as she handed me a pot containing a creeping plant with azure flowers.

I bought several boxes of potted plants and headed home with my bounty. I enjoyed the afternoon, bus­ily sticking the plants in their new homes in the herb beds. I labeled each one so that visitors could see what was growing.

I especially liked that creeper with the blue flowers. I couldn’t remember its botanical name, but I made a tag for it anyway, calling it “Creeping Hyssop”.

That summer, I got acquainted with my new plants. The method I recommend to others, and follow myself, is to try each new herb in cream cheese or chop some in scrambled eggs. The flavor of both foods is pretty neutral, allowing the flavor of the herb to come through. I chopped some of the “creeping hyssop” and added it to eggs. It tasted bitter and awful. The flavor wasn’t any better in cream cheese or on sliced tomatoes.

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