Holy cow, it’s costmary!

Recently while helping my sister, Kit, move to a new house, we found an interesting old bible belonging to “V. H. Reinhart” in the bottom of a moldy old box. I’d never seen a bible like it. The left-hand column is written in German and the right, in English.

Victor H. Reinhart, born in 1885, was the father of my step father, Wilbur Reinhart, and I knew from oral family history that he was a Mennonite minister.

Inside the bible we found a single, brittle, pale green leaf and immediately recognized it. I said, “Holy cow, it’s costmary!” (Tanacetum balsamita also Chrysanthemum balsamita) 

Because I’m passionate about both genealogy and herb gardening, this discovery was a bit like taking a beautiful old painting to the Antiques Roadshow and finding a signed copy of the Declaration of Independence behind it.

Costmary’s (now obsolete) common name is “bible leaf,” having been used as an aromatic bookmark since the time when a bible was likely the only book in the house. The volatile oils in costmary were known to keep bugs away and smelling the minty, wintergreen scent helps one stay awake during long sermons.

No longer used medicinally, costmary was once a common treatment for liver and gall bladder problems. Add the fresh, young, somewhat bitter, spring leaves to salad. Or all summer long, dry leaves for tea, potpourri, and sleep pillows. Leaves are also used in brewing beer and ale; an alternate name for costmary is alecost.

I’ve grown costmary in the bed of calmative herbs in my “spa garden” for several years. I originally bought the plant online through Richters Herbs, a Canadian company.

Here in Pennsylvania, costmary grows to be about three feet tall. In late summer, it blooms the most pathetic flowers imaginable. But costmary is phenomenal in a Barbra Streisand kind of way, that is, talented and super interesting, if not classically beautiful.

Sources:

Brown, Deni. New encyclopedia of herbs and their use, 1st American ed, 2001