Coxcomb: Wrinkling Open

Pink coxcomb, Lal Bagh Gardens
Photo: Tiger Riding for Beginners.

Who wants a flower that looks like a human organ?

There’s a fine line between magnificent and hideous. Steering clear of cultural minefields like the papacy, breast augmentation and John Wayne, we turn to Celosia argenta var. cristata. Garish and fuzzy, it hardly looks like a flower at all. More like a scouring pad or brain.

“If you watch people (especially children) walk by celosia plants, you may see a grin,” writes Jim Del Prince, of Mississippi State’s Extension Service. A grin, Jim? How about a grimace? Who really wants a flower to look like a brain?

Until today, we’d neither grinned nor grimaced, just looked the other way. Wheat celosia (Celosia spicata) is probably easiest on the eye, shades of white and purple and more like a bottle brush than a human organ. Plume celosia (Celosia argentea var. plumosa) is fit for a stripper’s costume or at least belongs in a novelty shop, next to the balloons and Lava lamps. But bona fide coxcomb is entirely different, a force to be reckoned with.

Some 20 years ago we drove to Palestine (pron. Palesteen), in the piney woods of East Texas for the funeral of our friend Kay’s beloved grandmother. We had called from Austin to ask that flowers be sent to the church and, uncertain what to order, we asked the local florist for the impossible: “something unique but very traditional there in Palestine.”

Imagine our alarm when, arriving at the community center for the reception, we spotted a large, irregularly shaped mound of what looked like rotten meat, a maroon coxcomb with our condolence card alongside. Mortifying.

This flower has shock value. Seed sellers will use back-handed compliments: “work-horse,” “quirky” ““conversation piece.” Harking back to breast augmentation: ”It’s a champ at bulking up mixed bouquets for markets and grocery stores,” writes Anne Getty Morgan.

Strident colors and bulbous shapes aside, it’s that wrinkly, brain-like form that’s uncanny, bordering on repulsive.

Botanists call these wrinkles fasciation, the “result of the breakdown in the ring of vascular (water- and nutrient-carrying) cells when they are produced at the growing tip, producing stems that are not round.” Wikipedia shows an array of examples, lumps, fringes, undulations, even the approximation of a smile, just for you, Jim Del Prince.

Fasciation can occur in many plants and for a variety of reasons: mutations, disease, fungi, mites…. Having learned of it, we can recall a few deformed daisies and other flowers that emerged in our own garden. But coxcomb’s fasciation seems to be genetic, resulting in sure-fire freaky.

Human brain: big, wrinkly and creepier even than celosia
Photo: Smithsonian Magazine

What about the wrinkly human brain, where concepts like “freaky” (and every other concept) are born? Why does the human brain look like coxcomb? “Scientists think that as we evolved and our cortexes expanded, our brains created folds to optimize how much brain matter could fit into our skulls.” Think of a skein of wool, which compacts hundreds of yards into a wad.

The ridges and valleys of the brain vastly increase its efficiency too: “the brain’s intricate and strategic folding shortens the distance that fibers have to project to contact different brain regions,” heightening intelligence. Take a look at the difference between a mouse brain, slick as an egg, and the human organ.

There are human disabilities that can be traced, at least in part, to variation from normal “gyrification” (wrinkliness) of the brain. A smooth brain (lissencephaly) results in developmental delays, seizures, and other serious conditions. Intriguingly, scientists have found greater than normal gyrification in the brains of autistic and schizophrenic individuals. There may be a kind of hyper-connectivity within the brain that underlies these neurological disorders, a kind of excessive “intelligence”.

We in the U.S. have only begun to explore the potential of Celosia argenta var. cristata. In Kashmir, where it’s called Mawal, coxcomb is a key ingredient in Rogan Josh, a savory mutton stew. Several sources attest that coxcomb is considered sacred and frequently planted around Hindu temples throughout India, but we have yet to come upon any evidence of that. (Send pictures, readers!) It’s used medicinally in the Philippines. Fans of plume celosia will have to make their way to Cebu in the Philippines, to the Sirao Flower Garden, its slopes aflame with red and yellow.

Ageratum, cosmos, gomphrena, and (daring) coxcomb
Photo: Human Flower Project

But Celosia argenta var. cristata? No way. Until last week. Our favorite cut flower source, Jess, of Phoenix Hill Flower Farm, Louisville, sent along her van-video of the week’s available blossoms and we were enthralled by the red coxcomb nestled inside. Gulp. We asked Jess for a bunch, along with cosmos and ageratum, and put together five arrangements for a family party last night. We’ll never shun coxcomb again.

We learn that Thomas Jefferson grew coxcomb in his Montecello garden, and have discovered that our own wrinkled brain is still capable of open-mindedness. Thinking back more clearly to that afternoon in Palestine, we remember that the old friends of Kay’s grandmother had taken note of the big maroon celosia and asked if she’d save them seed.