Fireweed Experiment

When mature, fireweed is known for its bright pink flowers, although it is the immature plant—the young shoots and leaves—that Tilford (and Lee Allen Peterson) recommend preparing and eating "like asparagus."

To help you to identify Epilobium angustifolium, Tilford points out that the most distinguishing characteristic is on the leaves, where "the leaf veins do not terminate at the edges of the leaves, but instead join together in loops inside the outer margins."

I found my first fireweed last year in the back yard—which makes sense, because it is known to grow in newly cleared or burned areas, hence the name, "fireweed". (Gregg's house was built just a few years back, so the the forest was cleared for the septic tank, resulting in the dry and sparsely vegetated clearing that is our back yard.) Last year there were a few fireweed plants back there, but this year I am happy to report that they are coming in stronger.

To test out their palatability, then, Gregg and I clipped two small plants—stems, leaves, and all—and cooked them like asparagus as directed. "It has a good taste," Gregg declared, his mouth full of fireweed. "It's almost meaty—like a hearty vegetable."

When I showed my friend Brian the plants, he said, "Oh those are everywhere." Really? But where? 

It was difficult, but I resisted the temptation to cut down all of my own fireweed plants and cook them up for dinner. After all, I wanted to give them a chance to regenerate and take over the yard as much as possible.

And then, while looking for a different plant and when I was least expecting it, I came upon a plentiful stand of fireweed pushing its way up under a downed tree on a mountaintop near Keystone, Colorado. I quickly harvested about 15 small plants. A few days later I cooked them, stems and all, in a little water mixed with lemon juice, and served them with a side of mayonnaise along with salmon burgers. In retrospect, I think I should have cut the thicker stems off higher up, as we found them to be rather chewy, but the thinner stems were fine—and the fireweed tasted great! We both ate generous portions of it and lived to tell the happy tale.

One of the nice things about fireweed, as Tilford explains, is that the plant is high in vitamin C and beta-carotene. So now I have another yummy and healthy food in my growing repetoire of wild edible spring greens.

In A Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants: Eastern and Central North America, Lee Allen Peterson recommends harvesting fireweed while it is still young, since it may become "bitter and unpalatable" as it matures.

I also found a reference to the plant in a black and white 1975 edition of Wild Edible Plants of Western North America by Donald R. Kirk (see link to color edition at right), which was recently reserved for my purchase by my favorite Denver used book store, The Printed Page. In it, Kirk says that fireweed leaves—both fresh and dry (Peterson says to use the mature leaves)—are good for making tea, and that the pith of the stems is good in soups. For the record, though, I have yet to try these methods of preparation.

Kirk also says that "in Europe, Fireweed was one of the first plants to appear in the areas devastated by World War II, and brightened the lives of the war-weary residents." Isn't that charming? I think it brightens up (the scar upon the earth that is) our back yard as well. And of course on top of that, it's quite tasty after all.