Borage: The Courage Herb

There is something almost theatrical about borage. It arrives in the garden in late spring — a little rough around the edges, with coarse hairy leaves and an ungainly habit — and then one morning it opens its flowers and everything is forgiven. Five perfect star-shaped petals of the most extraordinary blue: not the washed-out blue of a summer sky, but a deep, saturated, almost electric cobalt that stops you in your tracks. You may have noticed that our logo is a borage flower. That is not a coincidence.

A Plant with a Past

Borage (Borago officinalis) is not native to Britain but it has been grown here for at least a thousand years, arriving with the Romans and never really leaving. Its name is thought to derive from the Arabic abu rach, meaning ‘father of sweat’ — a reference to its traditional use as a diaphoretic herb, encouraging the body to cool itself through perspiration. Like elderflower, it was a plant of fevers and colds.

But the story that has followed borage most persistently is the one about courage. The Romans believed it fortified the heart and lifted the spirits, and soldiers were said to drink borage wine before battle. The herbalist John Gerard, writing in 1597, was emphatic: ‘Ego Borage gaudia semper ago’ — I, borage, always bring courage. Whether or not you take the medicinal claim seriously, there is something undeniably uplifting about a plant that blue in a garden.

In Elizabethan and Tudor England, borage flowers were floated in wine cups and cooling summer drinks — a tradition that survives today in the sprig of borage in a Pimm’s, which most people don’t know is historically correct rather than merely decorative.

What to Look For

Borage is an annual that self-seeds with extraordinary generosity. Plant it once and it will find its own way back every year thereafter, popping up in the cracks between paving, in the vegetable bed, at the feet of roses. It grows quickly to about 60–90cm, with hollow stems and those distinctive rough leaves. The flowers appear from late spring through summer and are relentlessly attractive to bees — particularly bumblebees, which work the pendant blooms with focused intensity. On a warm July morning, a borage plant in full flower is one of the most reliably bee-busy things in the garden.

The flowers are edible — delicately cucumber-flavoured — and the young leaves can be added to salads, though they’re best small and tender.

In the Garden

If you want a low-maintenance, high-wildlife-value annual that fills gaps, suppresses weeds and feeds bees for months on end, borage is your plant. It’s particularly good in the vegetable garden, where it attracts pollinators to beans and courgettes. It tumbles beautifully through roses. It looks wonderful with Calendula and Nigella.

The only caveat: it gets large. Give it space, or be prepared to thin it. And if you let it set seed — which you should — you’ll have it forever.

In the Kitchen

Borage flowers in a glass of Pimm’s, as we’ve established, is historically justified. But their real party trick is crystallisation — each tiny star preserved in egg white and sugar, used to decorate cakes and desserts. They are, quite simply, the most beautiful edible decoration available to a home baker. And they’re growing in your garden.

Crystallised Borage Flowers

Delicate, beautiful, and easier than they look. Makes as many as you have flowers.

YOU’LL NEED

• Fresh borage flowers, stems snipped short

• 1 egg white

• Caster sugar

• A small paintbrush

• Baking paper

METHOD

1. Pick your flowers on a dry morning when they’ve just opened — fully open blooms hold their shape best. Shake gently to remove any insects.

2. Lightly beat the egg white until just frothy — not stiff, just loose. Using the paintbrush, coat each flower petal by petal with a thin, even layer of egg white. Work carefully, you want complete coverage with no pools or drips.

3. Hold the flower over a small bowl and dust generously with caster sugar, turning so every surface is coated. Place on baking paper and leave to dry at room temperature for at least 4 hours, ideally overnight.

4. Once completely dry and crisp, store in a single layer between sheets of baking paper in an airtight tin. They’ll keep for up to 2 weeks.

5. Use on cupcakes, a Victoria sponge, a summer pavlova, or simply arranged on a white plate as a table decoration. They look, frankly, extraordinary.

The flowers are best crystallised on the day they’re picked — they close in the evening and begin to wilt by the next morning. Blue petals sometimes fade slightly as they dry, to a gentler lavender. They are no less beautiful for it.

Happy crystallising!