Lovin' the lovage

MONITOR:IT'S TIME TO go green. Not eco green, but herb green. I have a pathetic garden, and guiltily evade my daughter's requests for an area to call her own. I cannot help it I say, pointing her in the direction of her grandparent's acre nearby where she now has a neat and tidy plot. Meanwhile I am tending to my one indulgence – herbs.

The sage is velvety, the thyme deeply green and the rosemary is so outrageous I had to hack it back with a saw this year. But the latter’s purple flowers seem to suggest it is happy enough. My favourite at the moment is lovage, a herb that evokes similarities to celery but in truth is in a class of its own, with a deeply savoury note backed up by a spicy pepperiness. It is certainly pungent and its slightly sticky feel means your fingers are left with a scent when you handle it.

Recently, while working on a commercial project, my request for herbs was met with a blank stare. I suggested that some lovage and parsley would lift a dish that to me seemed flat and dull. The idea of using fresh anything, it seemed, was too much for the systems to bear. They could do dried parsley but were not sure about lovage. Dried parsley is like dust. We went back to the drawing board.

It’s odd how we underplay the role of herbs in cooking. They can be a salt substitute, for one. Try tossing new potatoes with finely chopped rosemary and parsley at the same time as the butter, but before you add salt. It makes a significant difference to how much salt is required.

There are herbs to finish a dish – basil, chervil and chives for example, which give delicious delicate notes but turn to mush if they meet the heat. Then there are the likes of tarragon which, if you are lucky to find a good supply (supermarket tarragon is generally underwhelming) will do both. The leaves and stalks are essential to the reduction for a Béarnaise, but also deliver a welcome aniseed kick to a summer salad. The more robust herbs – rosemary, sage, parsley, lovage – are no gentle acts. They need rough treatment, a good blast of heat, and if cooked for a while will contribute deep, savoury notes.

My wife hates parsley, and will pick it out of any dish. Yet I use it all the time when I cook, and she says it doesn’t taste of parsley any more. The same is true of the likes of lovage – too strong by itself, but finely chopped into a kilo of ground beef and you have burgers with a difference. Or added to an omelette (not too much) along with some sliced waxy potatoes, and you suddenly have some big flavours. Leave it out and it’s like music without a bass line, something altogether less.

Buying herbs in supermarkets is a challenge at the best of times. These greens are largely grown in inert bedding under glass and what they offer in convenience is lost in attitude. A quick visit to the garden centre and you can pick up a few herb plants for a song (a single chive plant is enough to keep you supplied for the summer).

If you have no space, try a windowsill, or find a box. I have relented and my daughter now has a micro garden contained in two old wine crates. The contents? Chives, parsley and sage mixed in with tulips, lavender, radishes and an artichoke. An eclectic collection maybe, but we are already planning dishes to cook and salads to make when things have grown. harnold@irishtimes.com