Hardly anything gives me a greater feeling of contentment than snipping fresh herbs from my own garden. I imagine that I’m beating the system whenever I can walk out my back door and grab a sprig of rosemary, a handful of parsley or a dozen leaves of basil without ever visiting a grocery store. Growing my own herbs infuses me with wholesome energy and it’s the closest I get to being an Earth child, although I do make my own granola on occasion.
Growing herbs is different than vegetable gardening. Herbs are far less fussy than vegetables. I learned this in California when I attempted to grow vegetables against the south-facing wall of our white adobe house, thus causing the garden to experience more radiant heat than the space shuttle upon atmospheric reentry. The vegetables immediately expired but the lone survivor was an herb, a fragrant curry plant that rewarded my neglect by tripling in size and exploding with cheerful yellow blossoms. That herb earned my respect.
Since then, I’ve grown herbs in pots and in flower beds, tucking them in wherever I could. They seem content to grow almost anywhere they’re planted, as long as they have enough sun. They tolerate poor soil and get by on hardly any water. They thrive where my other plants plead with me to be given away to someone who knows what they’re doing.
Now I’ve got herbs everywhere. I’ve got 10 rosemary, a dozen lavender, three oregano, five sage, a couple thyme, a massive comfrey plant, one basil and one parsley that dies in the winter but eagerly grows back in the spring. I’ve got a few tiny chamomile plants and a very unruly mint patch. I just planted coriander from a seed packet that my husband picked up at a plant sale. (I didn’t have the heart to tell him that coriander is cilantro, which he says he hates.)
In short, I’ve got fresh herbs aplenty whenever I want them, and the difference in flavor between fresh and dried herbs is extraordinary. Fresh herbs contain wonderfully pungent oils that fill your nose and tingle your tongue. They add a snappy something to everything you cook, from scrambled eggs (a little parsley, oregano or basil) to roast chicken (lots of rosemary, please) to dessert (a mint sprig on your ice cream). They make beautiful garnishes, pleasing the eyes, nose and tastebuds.
Since we’re into spring planting season, I thought I’d encourage you to plant your own herbs. Put them in a pot or in the ground, give them plenty of sun and don’t overwater them. They don’t like to have waterlogged roots, although I’ve coaxed some herbs to grow in the clay soil that besieges our region. If you’ve got a dry, gravelly area with good drainage, that’ll do just fine. If not, you can always mix a little sand into your soil. The real fun comes when you harvest them — there are so many ways to use them besides just tossing them in soups, stews or sauces. Make sure you gather herbs that have not been sprayed with fertilizers or pesticides, and that you wash them thoroughly before use. No one wants peppermint tea with subtle notes of Weed B-gon.
Here are a few things you can try:
- Make your own herbal tea: Gather a handful of mint, rosemary, oregano, thyme and lavender or whatever you’ve got. Tie them together with baker’s twine and put them in a teapot. Fill the teapot with boiling water and let it steep for 8-10 minutes. You can remove the herbs with tongs or just leave them in there for an extra strong brew. Sweeten it with a little honey, though it’s lovely even without honey — a fragrant pale green that tastes like spring. Bonus: the boiling water will kill any teensy bugs. (Yes! It’s true! Bugs live on plants.)
- Make your own herbal iced tea: Gather handfuls of herbs, tie them with string and put them in a gallon jug. Fill it with boiling water then leave it in the fridge for 24 hours. Remove the herbs and serve over ice. For sweet tea, add 1/3 cup sugar or honey (less or more, depending on how you like it).
- Make an herbed syrup: Gather 2 cups of any herbs, add 2 cups water and set to a roiling boil for 20 minutes. Strain out the herbs and put the water back in the pot. Add 1 cup of sugar and boil until liquid reduces to about 1 cup. Store in a Mason jar in the fridge for up to a month. Use the syrup to sweeten and add flavor to hot and iced tea, seltzer water, cocktails and mocktails.
- Make herb-infused gin or vodka: Buy a bottle of gin or vodka and shove some herbs in there. You might have to drink a few jiggerfuls first to get the herbs to fit, but you’ll manage. Leave it in there for about a week. Strain the liquid into a Mason jar or another bottle. Rosemary, thyme, basil and lavender are good for this.
- Make your own dried herbs: Gather herbs and remove leaves from stems. Spread on cookie sheet and bake at lowest oven temperature for 1 to 1½ hours or until completely dry and brittle. Store in an airtight container. (If dried properly, the herbs won’t spoil but after six or eight months they’ll lose their potent flavor.)
- Make a sachet: After you’ve dried your herbs, gather them into a small mesh gift bag, in a square of tulle fabric or even in an old sock. Tie it up tight and put it in your drawer or under your pillow. This works especially well with lavender, rosemary and chamomile.
- Make herbed ice cubes: Put sprigs of rosemary, thyme, oregano, lavender or chamomile in an ice cube tray, cover with water and freeze. Serve in cocktails or iced tea for a pretty drink. (They will melt, of course, and then you’ll have herbs in your drink, but that’s OK.)
- Freeze fresh herbs: Put herbs in a blender or food processor and blend with a little water, then pour into ice cube trays and store in the freezer. In December, when you need fresh herbs, simply drop the herbalicious ice cube into your soup, stew or pasta sauce. This works great with basil, sage and oregano.
- Make your own pesto: Blend 3 cups fresh basil with ½ cup olive oil, 1/3 cup pine nuts or walnuts, ½ cup Parmesan cheese, 5 cloves garlic, 2 tablespoons lemon juice and ½ teaspoon salt. For mint pesto, use 2 cups mint, 1 cup parsley and 1/3 cup almonds or pistachios (though watch the salt). Leave the garlic out and add 1 teaspoon lemon zest. Hey presto, you’ve got pesto!
