You say cilantro, I say culantro

What’s this culantro? | Chinese whispers | The herb and the weed | Culantro sofrito

Post 4 of 4 on ingredients from Houston’s less known (more local?) Tex-Mex sides: Xoconostle, Nopales, Guajes, Culantro. All of which grow in India as well, in some form or other, thanks to centuries of botanical exchange, and now have local stories to tell from either end of this wide world.

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What’s this Culantro?

I seem to have stumbled into a series of posts on plant mimesis, which is the term botanists use to explain evolutionary convergences that result in otherwise distinct plant species having striking morphological or phytochemical similarities. In this theory of mimicry, there’s usually one species that’s dominant and all others with shared volatiles or morphological characteristics become the “mimics.” So, “mahali” stands in for the better-known “nannari,” there’s petai (yongchak, Parkia speciosa) and there’s Chinese petai (Chigonglei, Leucaena leucocephala), sometimes the kapoks (Bombax and Ceiba) are barely distinguished except by flower color, so the latter stands in for the former–and now there’s cilantro (coriander, Corianderum Satvuim) and there’s culantro (wild coriander, Eryngium foetidum).

It doesn’t really end there; add Vietnamese coriander/Persicaria odorata, and several other Eryngium/ wild coriander varieties [e.g. E. creticum Lamk from the Near East, E. floridanum Coult. from Central America and E. maritimum L. from Western Europe, among several other varieties] to the list of “cilantro mimics.” But for now, I’m limiting myself to the two “first cousins”: culantro and cilantro.

Culantro and cilantro belong to two different Apiaceae subfamilies and are morphologically divergent. But they have phytochemical similarities, thanks to 5 “odor clusters” with “over 20 similar phytochemicals with the co‐elution of E‐2‐alkenals and E‐2‐alken‐1‐ols. There was more E‐2‐dodecenal in E. foetidum/culantro (63.5%) compared to C. sativum/cilantro, (26.0%) which accounted for the most odor activity” [Bridgemohan et al. 2021: 492]. The greater presence of E‐2‐dodecenal in E. foetidum/culantro is likely what accounts for its far stronger flavor, and explains reports by many of how little culantro is needed in place of cilantro when they are used as alternatives for one-another.

Now culantro is native to Mexico, the West Indies, and Central and South America, southern Mexico to Panama and Brazil, Cuba to Trinidad. It is widely distributed in Northern Brazil and is known popularly there as chicória-do-Pará or chicória do norte–which is sometimes translated to just “chicory,” because the roots are ground and brewed into a “coffee” much like Common chicory (Cichorium intybus) in many other parts of the world [which might be the reason that culantro gets the chicória moniker in the first place]. In Brazil, it is part of the basic cooking herbs, called cheiro-verde, not unlike our own “kothamalli-karivepillai” [coriander-curry leaves], and apparently used as much medicinally as culinarily. My old student and friend Bridget tells me her Brazilian mother-in-law “boils the roots and drinks it as a tea. She said that it works as a laxative and for an upset stomach” and that chicória leaf-paste is put on skin inflammations, swellings, and swollen joints.

Elsewhere in the region, culantro goes by a variety of other names: Mexican coriander, saw-toothed coriander, spiney coriander, long coriander, or wild coriander; recao in Puerto Rico, where it’s the base of recaito (or sofrito), along with garlic, green peppers, and ajíes dulces or sweet peppers a lot like these that I used to make peppadews. The word culantro is itself Latin for “foul-smelling thistle” and the botanical epithet “foetidum” or “foetida” reinforces this meaning, alluding to the apparently foul, or maybe just too pungent for the Latin name-giver in question, smell of the crushed culantro leaves.

Chinese whispers

So we know this herb well in all these regions, and we know that Puerto Ricans will not use tomatoes or pastes in their recaito, as that’s commonly a Cuban or Dominican or Spanish addition to sofrito. But what is less clear is how this herb travelled East. The stories of the Manila Tamarind, Guaje, Kapok, Cinchona and other “new world” ingredients are more thoroughly documented. With culantro, on the other hand, the internet becomes an echo chamber, with a number of academic, popular and other sites simply mimicking (yup, word used deliberately) each-other to say some version of the following:

“In the late 1800s and the beginning of 1900s, eryngo [aka culantro] was introduced by Chinese into South-East Asia (Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam, Singapore, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and India) as a substitute of the coriander (Coriandum sativum L.) because of its similar pungent aroma” [Singh et al., 2014: 1086] citing “Ramcharan 1999; Boonsong 2005; Seaforth and Tikasingh 2005; Chowdhury et al. 2007” — when not one single one of those sources says anything at all about said Chinese introduction. Unforgivably poor citational practices and a disregard for verifiable details means that we have no real idea why or how the Chinese were involved in any element of this exchange, as late as the turn of the 19th century, no less; why culantro came to South East Asia instead of China, or even how culantro came to be naturalized in the NE states of India, where it continues to be used and cultivated to this day.

Although one properly needs different methods to get at questions like these, the only available convincing explanation appears in Bridgemohan et al. [2021: 480], which at least notes the role of East Indian indentured laborers in identifying the similarity between the native culantro and their native cilantro:

“The early East Indian indentured laborers (1860’s) who migrated to the Caribbean worked in the sugar and cocoa plantations. They manually brush-cut the fields early in the morning as part of their task. Historical evidence indicated that when they swiped the bushes and weeds early in the morning, the released volatiles were scented similar to coriander [dhania], and on closer examination, it was discovered as the broadleaf weed which they were acquainted to in India. This familiar odor encouraged them to substitute the weed as the “new coriander”, but since it was not real (bhan = false), they called it the false coriander [bhan-dhania] (Mohammed, Pers Comm., 2020). However, emigrants from Northeast India who were previously exposed to the plant adopted it in their traditional cooking.“

This, at least, explains the importance of culantro to the immigrant cuisines of the Caribbean islands.

Bridgemohan et al. also, however, are equally participants in what is now practically a case of Chinese whispers [pun intended] when they say: “The herb was later introduced around the 1880’s into South East Asia by the Chinese, who were early inhabitants to the West Indies (Paul et al., 2011). They used it as a substitute condiment for coriander (C. sativum L.) possibly due to its similar pungent odor …” This hints that it was early Chinese “coolie” laborers from Malaya [and the Dutch East Indies] and possibly returning to those regions who may have carried culantro “home” with them. The Assamese today refer to culantro as maan-dhania, Burmese coriander, and the name perhaps acts as substantiation of culantro’s path of entry to India. If that’s as it happened, it could explain also why there’s so little by way of recorded history on the arrival of culantro to the East Indies: coolie exchanges and transfers were likely less a matter of historical interest than those of traders.

An illustration in Flora Malesiana vol.4 [1948-1954] [reproduced below, left] accompanied by the text shown below would appear at least to fit well with these notions:

The herb and the weed

Interestingly, culantro is very often described as a weed to cilantro’s more prized status of herb: junglee dhaniya [wild coriander] to dhania [coriander], E. foetidum is an aggressive aromatically pungent weed, say Bridgemohan et al., to C. sativum,the fragrant delicate herb. What explains this odd affinity of weed to herb? Is it just an extraordinary botanical coincidence like so many other such?

Not quite–maybe. Bridgemohan et al. postulate that a phenomenon called “Vavilovian mimicry” is the mechanism behind the specific similarity of culantro to cilantro. In other words, that culantro has evolved to save for itself a place at the gourmet’s table by mimicking with a vengeance its more delicate and favored cousin, cilantro.

If we thought that plants were without agency or understanding of human selection preferences, think, think again. The plants are on to us, and a Russian agronomist by the name of Nikolai Ivanovich Vavilov had theorized about just now.

Vavilov was an early 20th century scientist who “recognized that certain weed species adapted so well to human activity over the course of their evolutionary history that humans lose their ability to discriminate between the desirable species and the weeds” (McElroy 2014: 211). There are 3 key players in this evolutionary process: the model or desirable plant being cultivated (cilantro), the less favored weed which becomes the mimic (culantro), and the operator–an organism (eg. human) or instrument (eg. thresher) that can no longer distinguish between crop and weed. Plant-to-plant biomimicry of this sort, Vavilov proposed, was the adaptation mechanism or “plant tactic” that allowed weeds to survive weed control practices in agrarian societies. One example of Vavliovian mimicry is “barnyard grass” Echinochloa crus-galli subsp. oryzicol which has evolved to resemble rice so much so that it apparently survives less in environments where seasonal drought limits its fitness compared to other sub-species (McElroy 2014: 212). Another example is Cardiospermum halicacabum L. (the balloonvine, Indravalli or Mudakathan keerai), which “has a similar seed size and shape to Glycine max L. (Merr.) (soybean) and is often referenced as a seed mimic due to the inability to separate the two seed mechanically” (213). Indeed, McElroy tells us, seed mimicry is very cleverly a lot more common than vegetative mimicry of the sort we find with culantro and cilantro.

Presumably find, that is. Fascinating though this theory is, it presumes the co-evolution of culantro and cilantro and therefore their physical proximity–possible, given that the latter is an old, old world species with a venerable recorded history in both Europe and Asia introduced by Europeans into the Americas in the 1600s, but unsubstantiated unless there’s enough historical documentation of the physical proximity of both aromatic plants in the Caribbean sugar and coffee plantations Bridgemohan et al. reference in their article.

As for Vavilov himself, his adherence to the principles of Mendelian genetics caused him to fall out of favor with Stalin, as all that was seen as anticommunist in the Soviet Union at the time “and the contention between Western and Soviet science over Mendelian genetics is an example of one of the first propaganda battles of the Cold War” (McElroy 2014: 209). Vavilov was arrested while on an expedition in Ukraine in 1940, sentenced to death in 1941, and died in Saratov prison in 1943.

And, to speak of bizarre instances of exchange and evolutionary convergence, we have in Tamil Nadu a Chief Minister by the name of Stalin, named after Josef Stalin and in opposition to the state’s “brahminism”: a painful reminder that those on the Indian Left, in their social reformist or revolutionary zeal, frequently do not understand or choose to ignore the oppressive manifestations of their chosen liberatory political ideologies.

Culantro Sofrito

Really for me, this is a chutney about as green as my favorite and most versatile green chutney which whimsically becomes whatever I decide it will become based on what herbs I happen to have on hand. Or it’s a pre-made masala paste which I can store in ice cube form until I am in need, which is what a good many sofrito users seem to do.

I made a version of the chutney for my sister and left a jar for her this last time in Houston. It’s a sofrito substitute in its own right, which is to say it can be used in exactly the same ways to flavor soups and bean stews.

Whatever it is, sofrito variations appear as endless as our own chutneys and masala pastes, so although it’s customary to use ajíes dulces, I’ve substituted that with local sweet orange chillies from Auro Orchard and doubled the cilantro if there’s no culantro to be had.

• 2-3 small onions
• 2 heads of garlic
• a handful of ajíes dulces, sweet orange chillies, or other sweet, mild chillies or peppers. A green bell pepper, if nothing else.
• 1 large red bell pepper
• 1 bunch culantro, or 2 bunches coriander (stems and all)

All that needs doing is to chop and blend all these. Freeze in ice cube trays. Transfer to freezer bags once the cubes have set.

Use a few cubes each time in soups or stews or refried beans as you like. This keeps about 3 months; use the frozen cubes by then!

Sources

McElroy, J. Scott. “Vavilovian Mimicry: Nikolai Vavilov and His Little-Known Impact on Weed Science.” Weed Science, vol. 62, no. 2, 2014, pp. 207–16. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/43700650. Accessed 31 Aug. 2023.

Paul, J.H.A., C.E. Seaforth, T. Tikasingh, “Eryngium foetidum L.: A review,” Fitoterapia, Volume 82, Issue 3, 2011, Pages 302-308

Singh, B.K., Ramakrishna, Y. & Ngachan, S.V. “Spiny coriander (Eryngium foetidum L.): a commonly used, neglected spicing-culinary herb of Mizoram, India.” Genet Resour Crop Evol 61, 1085–1090 (2014). https://doi.org/10.1007/s10722-014-0130-5

Other:

• Hossain, Md & Jashimuddin, Mohammed & Nath, Tapan Kumar & O’Reilly, Patrick. (2017). Spiny coriander (Eryngium foetidum L.) cultivation in the Chittagong Hill Tracts of Bangladesh: Sustainable agricultural innovation by indigenous communities. Indian journal of traditional knowledge. 16. 59.
• Li, Hui-Lin. “The Origin of Cultivated Plants in Southeast Asia.” Economic Botany, vol. 24, no. 1, 1970, pp. 3–19. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4253102. Accessed 31 Aug. 2023.
• Wiens, D. (1978). “Mimicry in plants”. Evolutionary Biology. 11: 365–403.