Oh my gosh, this stuff has been known to unclog drains, clean metal, increase milk production in cows, staunch bleeding, it’s a substitute for blood plasma and used as a thickener in Southern cooking dishes, such as soups and stews. It sounds like this could be the Swiss Army knife of civilization. And wouldn’t you know it— it comes from the Phyla Angiospermae of nomenclature within the Great Kingdom of Plants. That means it’s a highly evolved plant, though very old in lineage.
This week, I’m introducing a Southern Garden plant that you may not be intimately acquainted with in your horticultural and stovetop pursuits—but you should be.
Hey! You’re listening to The Southern Minute, and I’m your host Cave Buckner.
As a longtime gardener, I find edible plants fascinating, with the operative word being “edible.” I might get some pushback when it comes to this plant—I’m talking about that backyard patriarch of the South that stands high and mighty and GREEN when everything else in the garden is panting, wilting and wanting for a cool elixir from the side yard garden hose. Why any SC or Georgia coast roots worker will sing its praises for relief from constipation, gas, bloating or other causes of undetermined digestive problems stumping medicinal triage across the Southland. I’m talking about that unsung hero of the mélange in the gumbo bowl—OKRA!
O.K., O.K. Don’t everybody applaud at once.
The okra plant is in the Hibiscus Family, known as Malvaceae. Other important plants in the family are cacao, cola and cotton.
It’s actually very nutritional, being high in Vitamins A, B6 and C, thiamine, folic acid, riboflavin, calcium and zinc. Included in the diet, it may maintain healthy blood sugar levels, along with the other aforementioned ailments of the digestive condition—and —it’s low-fat to boot, with a three and a half ounce serving, clocking in at just 29 calories.
That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Part hibiscus, part cotton plant, it’s tropical-looking flowers and green seed pods are the “mystery with a history.” Historians know the plant was in Brazil in 1658, so it probably worked its way to our Southeast coast with the slave trade by way of the Caribbean. It’s origin however was probably in equatorial Africa, ranging from Mali eastward to Ethiopia.
Here in America, Thomas Jefferson planted okra in his gardens at Monticello in 1809. His family made soup-like stews with potatoes, onions, summer squash, beans and tomatoes. Bacon was used for seasoning and meat such as chicken was added, probably like a Charleston gumbo or South Carolina chicken bog with the extras thrown in.
That enshrined cookbook, Mary Randolph’s “The Virginia Housewife,” included several recipes with okra as an ingredient, one entitled “Gumbs: A West India dish.”
This drought-hardy plant was grown throughout the South by the early 1800s. Depending on how it is cooked, either fried, steamed or stewed, it has a distinctive green bean-herbal flavor. Some Southerners like it pickled and it has probably turned up in chow-chow, that Southern hot pickled relish you put on your plate, next to the red pepper jelly.
For okra’s nay-sayers, depending on the variety and how it is cooked and used in recipes, the culprit is usually the mucilaginous slime, a soluble fiber that is exuded from the inside of the pod once it is sliced. It thickens with cooking heat. If that’s a turn off, I can attest to this remedy: de-slime okra by cooking it with an acidic food, such as tomatoes, to minimize the mucilage. Honestly, depending on the dish—it doesn’t bother me at all.
Planted in early spring, okra matures in about 8 weeks. Some plants have a prickly outer pod, but varieties like the Clemson Spineless have bred that out of the plant. Some newer varieties gardeners are planting, are Burmese, Sherwood Red, Puerto Rico Everblush and Gold Coast. I’ll leave a link at the bottom of “The Southern Minute” page, to a great Arkansas gardener website— “Journey with Jill.” She talks about the benefits of these new varieties.
Love it or leave it—I believe that after 200 plus years on campfire plates and America’s dining tables, okra is here to stay. We know by now it has a well-deserved place in America’s cuisine history.
And like writer and poet Roy Blount, Jr. says:
“Oh, wow okra, yessiree,
Okra is Okay with me.”
So here’s my question to you: If okra could talk—if it could defend itself—what do you think it would say?
That’s all I’m sayin’.
You’ve been listening to The Southern Minute, I’m Cave Buckner—thanks for listening.
MORE ABOUT OKRA VARIETIES
JourneyWithJill.com
Song to Okra
by Roy Blount, Jr.
String beans are good, and ripe tomatoes,
And collard greens and sweet potatoes,
Sweet corn, field peas, and squash and beets –
But when a man rears back and eats
He wants okra.
Good old okra.
Oh wow okra, yessiree,
Okra is Okay with me.
Oh okra’s favored far and wide,
Oh you can eat it boiled or fried,
Oh either slick or crisp inside,
Oh I once knew a man who died
Without okra.
Little pepper-sauce on it,
Oh! I wan’ it:
Okra.
Old Homer Ogletree’s so high
On okra he keeps lots laid by.
He keeps it in a safe he locks up.
He eats so much, can’t keep his socks up.
(Which goes to show it’s no misnomer
When people call him Okra Homer.)