In my garden at the moment small patches of scarlet enliven the dull apparently lifeless shades of winter, which show up in my huge roast-beef plant. Also known as stinking iris or gladdon, to the botanist it is Iris foetidissima. Up to about three feet tall it has the typical sword-shaped stiff leaves of its family. The flowers are dull purple and cream in colour and unlike many of the more showy members of its family they tend to hide away amongst the foliage.
It is really best known as a wild flower, here in Northamptonshire found typically in damp woodlands and hedgerows on heavy soils, where it can be locally common. Short Wood a local Wildlife Trust reserve on the western edge of the county, is a good place to go in search of it.
In cultivation the plantsman has taken this rather unspectacular flower, and by selective breeding has developed several eye-catching variations, among them the variety citrina, which is a clear yellow with darker veining, and which I have seen in the Beth Chatto gardens in Suffolk. Like many of the wild plants that have come, bidden or unbidden, to my garden, I seem to have had it for more years than I care to think. Yet at first it proved difficult to establish. An obliging friend who had it in her Kettering garden supplied me with seeds for several years until finally a single bright green blade peeping above the soil in springtime signalled success.
As is so often the case it now seems to seed itself all over the place and I have to remove all the bright scarlet seeds while they are still in their prominent cases, so that I can control it. The large seeds look a little like berries but, inviting as they may appear, they are definitely not for eating. The names foetidissima and stinking iris hold the clue that there are times when this plant is to put it mildly, somewhat unpleasant smelling. The roast-beef plant epithet probably refers to the seeds, which I suppose could be said to resemble raw meat, when seen from afar against the winter landscape.
My plant, having migrated across the garden from its original position, has settled itself beneath a hybrid lime tree at the bottom of the garden where in autumn it concentrates a thick carpet of fallen leaves between stems and leaves. Last year a hedgehog chose this accumulation as a secure place in which to hibernate, beneath a warm blanket, and protected by the stiff foliage.
I have written before about Alexanders and its many uses as herb and vegetable. Jane and Dave have just polished off a bottle of the wine that I made last year, and declared it to be ‘rather good.’ In this mild winter the plants are still growing strongly, so much so that I have been able to gather enough foliage and roots to start off another gallon of wine. While the young leaves and pink stems, together with a few of the larger roots which I peeled and chopped, have made a tasty addition to my daily helping of steamed vegetables.
Although not found commonly in the wild in Northamptonshire, I have had it for many years, having originally brought back some of its distinctive black seeds from coastal Dunwich. There seems to be a spider, small and a little like the well-known jumping spiders in appearance, that is especially associated with the flowing and fruiting umbels of this plant. Not being an expert on spiders I have no idea to which species it belongs. There is also a small shiny black beetle, one of the flea beetles, which is found among the greenish-yellow flowers. It would be interesting to find out whether these two small beasts are specific to alexanders, or whether they occur on other carrot-family umbellifers such as hogweed or Queen Anne’s lace. Something I have threatened to find out yet never seem to get around to actually doing!