Field Notes: Mayapple

~by Jim Eagleman

The spring perennial mayapple, sometimes referred to as mandrake, is now growing commonly in our Brown County woods. Other wildflowers often appear alongside and are recognizable due to stems, blooms, and leaves. But the mayapple is unique; it only has two leaves and one flower, which grow in the axil, or “crotch,” of the leaf stems. The pale white to rose-colored flower has six to nine waxy petals and many stamens. The flowers are cross pollenated by bumblebees and other solitary bees with elongated sucking mouthparts. But it is the large, twin, umbrella-like leaves, deep green in color, and not the hidden flower, that make identification of this plant easy, compared to other spring ephemerals. The leaves remain unfurled as the stem lengthens, unfolding six to eight inches across when the plant has reached its full height of one to one-and-a-half feet. On occasion, the stem can spear a fallen oak or maple leaf as it grows.

Mayapple’s scientific name, Podophyllum peltatum, derives from podus (foot) and phyllon (leaf) as the plant is thought to bear some resemblance to a duck’s foot. The species name, peltatum, suggests a shield.

Large patches of mayapple can dominate the woodland floor in early spring, long before the canopy of tree branches leaf out. As they mature, the mayapple will colonize areas into dense mats, usually in damp woods where thick leaf litter retains moisture. Many plant stems arise from underground roots, called rhizomes. When I exposed the roots of a dense patch of mayapples I saw how prolific this plant can be. Growing from a single root, interconnected, reddish-brown tubers spread in all directions, producing stems and leaves that grow crowded together. It’s these patches of mayapple, rather than individual plants, that foresters refer to as a “rich woods” environment. The term has been used to describe a forest and it can refer to a small woodlot left undisturbed and uncut, on up to a large tract with old timber in a multi-aged stand.

My collection of wild foraging texts, now admittedly old and dated, all agree that while the stem, root, and leaves of mayapple are poisonous, the fruit is edible when ripe and bright yellow. Years ago—anxious to try our luck with wild foods—several of us young Euell Gibbons disciples found a patch to sample. In his book, Stalking the Wild Asparagus, Gibbons cautioned that the mayapple, also called raccoon berry, hog apple, and wild lemon, possesses a poisonous chemical called podophyllin. It acts on the liver, in what is described as cathartic (cleansing), emetic (causing vomiting), and anthelmintic (acting to expel or destroy parasitic intestinal worms). This warning made us pay close attention in our search. The fruits we found were still a pale yellow. Our enthusiasm waned and we wondered if the chemical found in the plant could migrate to the fruit?

To find the ripened fruit at the end of the growing season continues to be a challenge. It is hard to beat squirrels, turkeys, chipmunks, and deer to the source. In a large patch I once found the soft and very yellow fruit (technically a berry), and bit into the interior. It was like a banana in consistency and was sweet. The flavor is described in some texts like a strawberry, but to me it tasted more like a mango.

I am still fascinated with wild foods, but I am aware why small portions are advised. I was always reluctant and never became a true forager. Cautiously, I confirm my findings with expert botanists.

Mayapple juice can be added to lemonade, and with some effort, the fruit can be used to make a marmalade. This early fall, I’ll look in the places where I saw the leaves grow and will watch for a few bare and dried stems with the yellow fruit hopefully still attached. I might even try some recipes.

Differences in taste is a personal thing, and it may encourage you to sample the mayapple, ripe, and bright yellow. What is the faint taste you notice? Is it lemon, strawberry, mango, like a banana, or passion fruit?

Differences in environmental conditions can produce vigorous or stunted results. Strangely, the sunnier the habitat for mayapples, the earlier it goes dormant. This feature may not allow it to be used as a border, but the mayapple is a nice addition for naturalizing any woodland garden.

Favorite Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley, must have sampled the mayapple fruit on one of his forest forays. In his “Time of Clearer Twitterings,” he asks “will any poet sing of a lusher thing, than a ripe mayapple, rolled like a pulpy lump of gold, under my thumb and finger tips, and poured molten through the lips.”