Second Opinions : Valley Perspective : A Cure for What Ails You, Sprouting in the Backyard : Herbs have been used as Mexican folk remedies for years, to bring down fevers and soothe indigestion. Now if the remedios could just curb a sweet tooth . . .

Many remedios based on herbs were, and still are, an important part of Mexican and Chicano culture. People who lived in Pacoima--my hometown, in the 1940s and ‘50s--knew all about empacho, frio, susto--indigestion, chills, fright.

Even when transplanted to a new country, our abuelitas knew to keep a home garden. Still, not everyone had a spacious yard. In Pacoima, herbs were grown in empty buckets, coffee cans and vegetable crates; they were watered religiously, pruned by hand and treated with great care. Peppermint and te de limon were my favorites.

Poor folks had to rely on home remedies to stay well. Rather than consult the doctors they could not afford, our mamas and abuelitas relied on herbs grown in our backyards, or traded with neighbors, to keep their large families healthy. And although aspirin and Vicks came to replace las hierrbas, our mothers managed to keep handy a sprig of romero (rosemary). Just in case.

My children’s paternal great-grandmother, Grandma Pepita, relied on yerba del manso--goldenseal root--to relieve the pain of arthritis; te de limon was good for an upset stomach, while te de canela--cinnamon tea--relieved menstrual cramps. Once, when her grandson lay ill with a high fever--and lacking the money for a doctor--she layered his chest with raw potatoes. When the papas turned black (they drew out the fever), they were then replaced with fresh potatoes, until all signs of la fiebre were gone. Although mustard packs were also effective, Grandma Pepita preferred potatoes. In Delano, where she lived, they grew in abundance.

In New Mexico, where small villages dot the landscape, folk medicine is an important tradition. Transmitted through generations, it is alive and well. Folks there rely not on medical doctors, but on curanderas, women (sometimes men) steeped in the tradition of home remedies. Parteras, adept at child-birthing, are in demand, even by educated young women. During the years I lived there I saw even academics (who rely on scientific evidence) depend on hierrbas to make them well.

One recent Saturday, after a series of sleepless nights, I drove to the San Fernando Swap Meet on Glenoaks Boulevard. I scarfed down carnitas wrapped in a hot tortilla, then made my way to a tiny stall where dried herbs--labeled and stored in bags--were stacked in neat rows. A kindly old man listened to my complaint, asked me to stick out my tongue, then checked the whites of my eyes. “No tiene nada,” he said, assuring me there was nothing wrong with me, and trying not to snicker. He handed me a funny-looking reddish root (it sold for $10) and sent me packing. That night I brewed a pot of tea made especially bitter by the plant. I slept like a baby.

The following week, having heard that certain herbs help control eating disorders, I went back to el hierbolero. Alas, he had nothing to curb my craving for sweets.