Herb Me

For the majority of my life the herbaceous notes I added to a dish came from a vendor, tied in bundles with twine, wire or rubber bands. I could never be sure how long they took to get to my kitchen – in the winter months it was a sure bet that they were long traveled before getting plucked by me. I attempted windowsill gardening, with more or less marginal results. I am an herb fanatic adhering to the philosophy: when in doubt toss in some more. I am clearly attached to fresh, verdant, scented leaves. Dried herbs have very little place in my cooking life with the exception of dried hyssop, which is part of my z’aatar blend, or lavender buds which get dried to be used well beyond its limited season.

The unfortunate part of loving to use herbs is that they really don’t have the greatest shelf life – basil seems to start wilting as soon as it’s taken from the earth and cilantro can go slimy awfully quickly. I am in the habit of purchasing herbs at the farmer’s markets getting bunches that were at least not already beyond pleasure. I would store these herbs in cups with just enough water to keep them perky never covering them in plastic so condensation does not start breaking down the leaves. Rosemary, thyme, oregano and mint have lasted the longest under these conditions. These days I don’t worry about my herbs going off in the refrigerator, no now, I obsess about them bolting and flowering.

I always thought I had a black thumb but in reality my windowsill that faced north just wasn’t bright enough and the truth is these aromatic weeds have proven relatively easy to propagate.

No longer am I buying bunches I get to capriciously decide what I am in the mood for, and just slip out through the screened-in porch with my snipping shears. There, in view from the kitchen window, is my herbal potager. In a 10x3 feet raised planter; sorrel for that ever so sour pucker; loveage and mistuba offer alternatives to celery and parsley, respectively. Basics like sage, thyme and chives give easy snips. At the one end, which is kept damp, Vietnamese cilantro flourishes while a leafy wasabi varietal and watercress are experimental this year. And, this is just a fraction of the edible, fragrant plants scattered around the gardens. From 5 different basils to summer savory to borage and bergamot I am able to perfume a dish on a whim and a whiff.

Smashed New Potatoes­ - yields 6 servings

2½-pounds small new potatoes - such as yukon gold, red bliss or purple Peruvian

3 to 4 garlic cloves - sliced paper thin

1-tablepsoon chopped - summer savory

1-tablespoon chopped thyme

1-tablspoon chopped rosemary

1-tablespoon chopped mint

Zest of 1 lemon

½-cup extra virgin olive oil

salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Place the potatoes in a 4 quart pot and cover with cold water along with 2-teaspoons of salt. Bring the potatoes to the boil and cook the potatoes until fork tender, about 20 minutes.

In a work bowl, large enough to hold the potatoes, mix together the garlic, herbs, lemon zest, oil, and pepper to taste.

 Once the potatoes are cooked, drain them and then using a large spoon or a spatula lightly smash each potato to just have them split open. Place them in the work bowl and toss the hot potatoes with the oil mixture to coat well. Serve the potatoes immediately or serve at room temperature.

A summer pattie

This might sound like heresy, but I was never a fan of the typical summer cookout. And now, with the information out there about what gets encased into a hot dog or the pink slime that makes hamburger helper seem like a whole grain extender I am glad to have had a contrary response to a summer picnic table. I realize I was having the same reaction to these foods as I would to a fast food meal and not surprising because thrown on the backyard grill or packaged as a happy meal these were the same products.

Not to sound too un-American I do love a well-made sausage, however, it is usually from a small batch butcher -- how I carve the smoked pheasant sausage of Quattro Farms from New York State. A heaping of grainy mustard and I am good to go. A burger on the other hand is a different kettle of fish. I needed to be deeply hangover before I found myself jaws unhinged eating a burger – and it has been decades since I have gotten that blotto. I do like to participate in rituals though, I do find myself making burgers just never pre-formed. It is too simple to buy the ground meat (I usually go for buffalo, pork or chicken) and concoct my own with a liberal seasoning of fresh herbs and perhaps smoked paparika. Fish versions require the additional step of grinding up the meat in the food process before moving forward with an idea. Plus, I don’t like the burger to be about the “pilings” on and the subsequent mess I will make. No, I want the meat to stand on it own with it own unique flavors. A simple garnishment will do, thank you.

Tilapia Burgers – yields 6 pieces

1-pound tilapia – roughly chopped (shrimp maybe substituted)

2-tablespoons Texas tarragon leaves

2-teaspoons thyme

1-tablespoon grated ginger

1-celery stalk - minced

2-egg whites

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

In a food processor place the tilapia and pulse to break the fish down. Add in the tarragon, thyme, ginger and celery and process to fully incorporate into the fish. Remove the fish to a work bowl and mix in the eggs, salt and pepper.

Form the fish into 6 patties, and place in the refrigerator for a minimum of an hour in order to allow them to firm up.

Cook on the grill for about 4 minutes a side, or under the broiler.

Onion-Tomato Relish

1-small red onion

1-teaspoon salt

¼-cup fresh lime juice

1/2-pound ripe tomatoes

1-tablespoon shredded lemon verbena leaves

Cut the onion in half through its root. Slice each half into very thin julienne, and toss with the salt and lime juice. Allow the onion to sit at room room temperature for about 15 to 30 minutes.

Slice the tomatoes into thin strips and toss into the onions along with the verbena leaves. 

Serve at room temperature or cold.