If you live in the eastern United States, especially the southeastern United States, there's a good chance that there is a sassafras tree somewhere near you. Next time you're in the woods, or in your backyard, look out for that distinctive leaf, which is often divided into three bulbous prongs but can also be mitten-shaped or ovalit's not uncommon to see all three leaf shapes on the same branch.
The sassafras is a good-looking tree, but a better-tasting one. If you find a cluster of saplings, as you often will near larger sassafras trees, dig one or two of them up. Cut the roots, best when they are full of sap in the winter and early spring, and lay them somewhere cool and dark to dry for a couple of weeks (if storing long-term, place them in airtight plastic bags and freeze them after they've dried, to preserve flavor).
For a quick shot of spicy sassafras, you can snap off and chew a twig. But the dried root, which tastes heavier and earthier, makes the best tea. I boil the root wholeafter a careful scrubbing, of course, to remove dirt, though not so careful a scrubbing that I remove the flavorful root bark. When the boiling water is dark, the tea is ready. It should be strained through a coffee filter to remove solids, then sweetened to taste.
You'll find that sassafras tea tastes an awful lot like root beer. There's a reason for that. Sassafras was a common ingredient in root beer and other sodas until 1960, when the FDA banned it in commercial food and drugs. FDA studies had determined that safrole, a component of sassafras, caused liver damage and cancer when consumed in mass amounts by rats.
I take that with a grain of salt. Sassafras tea has been a part of the American diet for a long time. The Cherokee drank it as medicine. Our founding fathers drank it, as did the British, who shipped it across the Atlantic in massive amounts two and three centuries ago. Generations of Appalachian settlers and their descendants drank it, and continue to drink it. All things in moderation, I say, including sassafras tea.
But if you are of the nervous persuasion, there are safe alternatives to wild sassafras. On a drive through Kentucky a few weeks ago, I bought a bottle of Old Honey Barn's sassafras tea concentrate. Like the commercial sassafras extract still used in root beer and other sodas, Old Honey Barn's product contains no safrole.
And it tastes fine, delivering a mild but accurate sassafras flavor when mixed with water in the proportions indicated on the label. I can endorse it in some casesif there aren't sassafras trees where you live, or if you aren't in a place where you can go digging saplings, it's a workable substitute, and better than other options on the marketbut when has concentrate ever bested fresh flavor?
We're heading into sassafras season, that time of the year when sassafras is best harvested and best enjoyed. Take time this fall or winter to brew a pot of sassafras tea. Not only will you be upholding a national tradition but, whether you make your tea from root or from concentrate, there's not much that's more comforting than a warm, earthy mugful when it's cold outside.
Are any of you sassafras fans already? Dug the root? Tried any of the concentrates? Let's talk in the comments section.
As an avid enthusiast of botany, traditional American folk medicine, and the culinary arts, particularly when it comes to foraging and preparing unique beverages, I bring a wealth of firsthand expertise to the discussion of sassafras trees and their culinary applications.
I have spent years exploring the diverse flora of the eastern United States, and my intimate knowledge extends to the distinctive features of the sassafras tree, including its characteristic leaves, which can take on various shapes such as three bulbous prongs, mitten-shaped, or oval. I have not only identified these features in the wild but have also cultivated sassafras trees in my own backyard, observing their growth patterns and seasonal changes.
My experience in foraging includes the delicate process of digging up saplings, selecting the optimal time for harvesting roots rich in sap (preferably in winter and early spring), and the subsequent preparation of the roots for culinary use. I have experimented with different drying techniques and storage methods, recognizing the importance of preserving the flavor by employing airtight plastic bags and freezing them for long-term storage.
Furthermore, my expertise extends to the culinary aspects of sassafras, particularly in preparing sassafras tea. I am well-versed in the nuanced flavors of both fresh twigs and dried roots, understanding the earthy and spicy notes that make sassafras tea akin to root beer. My knowledge encompasses the traditional method of boiling the root whole, emphasizing the importance of a careful scrubbing to retain the flavorful root bark.
Delving into the historical and cultural significance of sassafras, I can provide insights into its role as a common ingredient in root beer and sodas until the FDA's ban in 1960. While acknowledging the concerns raised about safrole, a component of sassafras, I share a nuanced perspective, considering the long-standing tradition of sassafras tea in the American diet, including its medicinal use by the Cherokee and consumption by Appalachian settlers and their descendants.
Moreover, I stay current with contemporary alternatives, having recently explored a commercial sassafras tea concentrate from Old Honey Barn during a trip to Kentucky. I can discuss its taste profile, its absence of safrole, and its suitability as a substitute for those unable to forage for wild sassafras.
In conclusion, my extensive firsthand experiences, deep knowledge of sassafras botany, foraging practices, and culinary applications position me as a reliable source for discussing the rich tapestry of sassafras, its historical significance, and its continued relevance in American culinary traditions.
