A bare-rooted mandrake (Mandragora officinarum) seedling already showing its forked taproot, reminiscent of two legs. Photograph by Yvette Weaver
«Last summer, in mid-July, I was handed the once-fragrant fruit of our mandrake (Mandragora officinarum), and it was bursting with seeds that were ready to be sown. This was my opportunity to propagate the legendary plant depicted in Pan's Labyrinth and Harry Potter.»
I began by washing the seeds in a bowl of water to separate and remove any fruit pulp that was still attached. Once the seeds were clean, I blended a starting medium (one part sand and one part seed starter mix), evenly pressed the mix into a soil block tray, and sowed forty-five seeds, all from one fruit. I lightly dusted lime over the starting medium—root crops prefer soils with a higher pH level—and secured another tray on top; germination could take months and critters searching for food would dig through the tray if left open. We placed the tray outside in a cool location under a shady oak with hopes that this batch would yield us a handful of mandrake seedlings, and throughout the late summer and early fall, I would peek to see if there was any activity. Feeling a little skeptical, we tucked the tray off to the side of our outdoor space, with other plants, for the winter.
Cleaned seeds collected from the Bonnefont Herb Garden ready for sowing. Photograph by Yvette Weaver
In order to keep the cycle of seed production and reproducing optimal, all seeds are sensitive to their environment and know the best time to germinate. Mandrake seeds biologically need to experience the moisture of snow and low temperatures of winter to go through a process called cold stratification—a period of moist cold. So, this winter may not have been ideal to us, but it was perfect for these seeds. As the March days warmed and daylight lengthened, our established mandrake in the Bonnefont Herb Garden began to emerge and flower, which prompted us to check and see if we had any luck with our mandrake seeds. We were happy to find that we had a handful and so much more—a full crop of thirty-five mandrake seedlings.
The tray of mandrake (Mandragora officinarum) seedlings. Photograph by Yvette Weaver
Generally, plants with deep taproots shouldn't be disturbed, but with so many seedlings, we'll try to grow them in different ways: some will be potted, others planted in the Bonnefont Herb Garden, and the remaining seedlings will stay in the original tray. I look forward to next March, when this year's seedlings flower, and hopefully, another tray of mandrake grow.
The mandrake rosette during its March bloom. Photograph by Caleb Leech
Read about the lore of the mandrake in "The Mandrakes Bloom Again…" on The Medieval Garden Enclosed.