Herbs in Salads to Make You Feel Alive! 🪴
Or—if you're not one of those people who feels slightly dead by the time the end of winter finally rolls around—perhaps just "more alive."
SOME OF MY FRIENDS MIGHT DISAGREE, but I’m not one for making grand pronouncements. However, it has always seemed to me that we neglect rather than glorify herbs, which is a terrible mistake.
To avoid rankling professional herb people and herb experts and vigorous eaters of herbs and herb-based cultures, I am willing to recast this to be less general: In the very small world I occupy, it often seems that we sideline rather than glorify herbs.
We do this in spite of the fact that humans have benefited from wonderful herbs for thousands of years, “in cooking, to flavour foods, as perfumes, to make us smell nice; as disinfectants, to protect us against germs; as medicines—to heal us when we are sick; and as currency, instead of money,” according to Great Britain’s Herb Society (founded in 1927).
And they also make us feel alive, as if we have bitten into and tasted the very essence of our beautiful living planet.
And yet, herbs have been reduced to a kind of quaintness. I call it the Scarborough Fair Effect.
I’d love to be proven wrong about how we undervalue these ancient culinary treasures, which can have bracing and/or subtle effects on your food, depending on how you use them.
Nothing makes me happier than to sneak a few mint leaves into the salad of someone who claims fresh mint tastes like breath mints, only to have them say: “Mmmmmm! What is in here?” And I always find that if you give your friends any green salad containing a big handful of mixed herbs, they will be pleased and gobble it up and sometimes ask for more.
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General low availability appears to be a big factor in herb neglect. But, please, if you know a place, open and accessible to the general public, that doesn’t require driving over 100 miles, where you can pick up a bunch of mint or oregano that contains more than two or three sprigs, none of which are half dead from being bent like a pretzel to fit into an elfin plastic clamshell, the boys in the lab and I would love to hear about it. Also: who uses just three sprigs of anything?
And if you can find fragrant, heavenly tarragon on a regular basis—and not the false Russian kind that tastes like lawn clippings—I’d like to know about that, too. I’d settle for the seeds or the plants, which are also in short supply—absent, actually— almost every year I go looking for them.
And tell me right away if you are ever served a salad (or any dish) in which herbs are treated like an ingredient—abundantly present rather than a fleeting flourish. In fact, give me the address of that restaurant or their phone number so I can go there. (I’m not kidding.)
In the meantime, if you feel as herb bereft as I often do, even in lovely spring, perhaps you would like to make the dish below, from the early days of the Department of Salad, which features not just copious herbs but pickled fennel (I have both of those recipes for all readers to download, after the photo.)
I am forced by circumstance to get a lot of my herbs at the grocery store, just like most of us sad sacks trying to find decent food in this mixed-up consumer culture, which seems intent on forcing us eat processed food, and where even the frozen fruit and vegetable section is tiny compared to the frozen pizza and premade meals and “novelties” sections and where the grocery stores seem to be catering mostly to people who do not cook or even try to make themselves a cheese sandwich, which we have also discussed here, if you consider me going off on a peevish tangent this way a “discussion.”
The wise thing for someone like me to do would be to order all the herb plants and become an herb farmer. But until that happens (probably never), I will simply be a supporter of and campaigner for the exhilarating effects of herbs, which can evoke pine trees and licorice and pepper and lemon and onions and be bitter or sweet or earthy or simply beguiling.
And when I have the urge to consume herbs, I will continue driving in my air-polluting automobile all the way out to Your Dekalb Farmers Market (YDFM), where they have a huge unrefrigerated stand of fresh herbs in big bundles; these get snatched up so quickly that the supply is refreshed many times a day. My dream is to live in a small tent in front of this stand, popping out to graze on herbs, then going back into my tent to stream The Barefoot Contessa.
In reality, I always end up feverishly buying way too many bunches of herbs, which is what I did on my last trip, grabbing a large basil (they have two sizes!), and big bunches of dill, mint, sage, tarragon, and flat-leaf parsley. They also had fresh oregano, but I decided to control myself.
When I got home I put them in water, like flowers, and spun them around on a Lazy Susan, admiring them and feeling safe and satisfied. Then I started employing them in a very loosey-goosey way. You can do that with most soft summer herbs without worrying too much about overkill. (Which is why you rarely hear anyone say: The entire dish was ruined by too much basil!) If any ingredient defies the idea that everything must be measured, it’s herbs.
I added a handful of torn mixed herbs to couple of simple leafy green salads, and to a lemony white bean salad that I make often (recipe below), and to a completely wonderful, quite newfangled potato salad from the great book Saladish, by a chef I have long admired, Ilene Rosen (recipe also below.) We featured some of her inventive dip recipes earlier, in this issue.
I also used lots of tarragon in the dressing for a work-in-progress that I am calling my Surprise Salad, because it looks like a simple dressed pile of soft lettuces but when you open it up and there are delicious treasures inside. It still needs some work, so I’ll have that later.
And since I had a heck of a lot of herbs left over after enjoying these things and was still in an herby mood, I whipped up a simple and—if I do say so myself—ethereal lemon herb vinaigrette in my mini-food processor and used it not just to dress all the lettuces I bought at YDFM but also as a dip for carrots and cucumbers and celery.
I then made a beautiful sauce verte from my beloved queen Patricia Wells’s The French Kitchen Cookbook. This I stirred into some of the white beans I had cooked for a possible shrimp and white bean salad (which I rejected and set aside for later once I’d cooked the blah shrimp). This veritable salad of a green sauce would be amazing on a piece of fish or drizzled heavily over steamed green beans and other grilled or steamed vegetables or on practically any grilled meat.
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*RECIPE: New Potatoes with Soft Green Herbs, from Ilene Rosen’s Saladish: A Crunchier, Grainier, Herbier, Heartier, Tastier Way with Vegetables
Serves 4
This recipe is an herb-lover’s paradise, and exactly the kind of recipe to make for anyone who wants to start using herbs as a main ingredient rather than a garnish. They get mixed into the salad and used as a topper. If you have mayo-haters in your house, this dish could transform their potato-salad lives. You can, of course, adjust the amounts if you are herb-timid. In her recipe note, Ilene Rosen writes: “When spring’s herbs are at their best, don’t mess with them—don’t mince them, don’t chop them, don’t even wash them.” I agree 100 per cent with the first two commands, but unless they’re really really clean or I grew them myself, I am never going to risk eating sandy herbs. The Lemon-Scallion Yogurt dressing is a dream: Whiz it up in your mini-food processor and try not to eat it with a spoon.
Rosen’s suggested herbs: Any combination of whole mint leaves, small dill and/or tarragon sprigs, lovage or celery leaves (torn if large), and long cuts of chives. I used everything but the lovage and substituted a little flat-leaf parsley.
Lemon-Scallion Yogurt Dressing (method below)
1½ pounds new potatoes, scrubbed
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
About 2 cups of mixed fresh herbs
Put the potatoes in a large saucepan, add salted water to cover by 2 inches, and bring to a gentle boil. When the potatoes are just tender enough to be pierced through easily with the tip of a sharp knife, 10 to 12 minutes depending on size, drain in a colander.
When the potatoes are cool enough to handle, cut them in half and transfer to a bowl. Add half of the dressing and toss gently, taking care not to break the potatoes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Let the potatoes cool completely.
When ready to serve, add three quarters of the herbs and the remaining dressing to the potatoes and toss gently to combine. (NOTE: I didn’t use the entire remaining amount of dressing; you may want to; it’s very delicious.) Shower the salad with the remaining herbs and serve.
Lemon-Scallion Yogurt Dressing
2 scallions, roughly chopped
½ cup plain yogurt
Grated zest and juice of 1 medium lemon
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Put the scallions in the bowl of a food processor or in a blender, add the yogurt and lemon zest and juice, and pulse to combine. With the motor running, drizzle in the olive oil and process until smooth. Season to taste with salt and pepper and set aside.
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RECIPE: Herby Garlicky White Bean Salad with Various Adornments
Serves 4 to 6
This is a variation on a white-bean salad I make a lot, with a revolving lineup of adornments. The golden raisins are optional but delicious. Add them last if you use them. Note: This salad is even better if you let it sit in the fridge overnight before commencing with step 2.
Lemon Garlic Vinaigrette (recipe below)
2 ½ cups cooked white beans (I used Rancho Gordo Alubia Blancas)
1 ½ cup diced celery
3 tablespoons finely chopped red onion (more to taste)
1 cup roughly chopped artichoke hearts (frozen or canned; just buy a decent brand)
1 cup halved cherry tomatoes
Handful of mixed herbs, torn or chopped (I used basil, dill, tarragon, parsley)
½ cup golden raisins (optional)
In a big bowl, gently toss together the beans, celery, onion, and artichoke. Drizzle this with a good amount of the dressing. You want a lot but you don’t want it swimming. Let this sit at room temperature for at least 30 minutes—an hour is even better.
Add the tomatoes, herbs, and golden raisins (if using). Toss gently to combine. Taste for salt and more dressing; serve. Note: This salad is even better if you let it sit in the fridge overnight before commencing with step 2.
Lemon Garlic Vinaigrette
In a jar with a tight-fitting lid, combine all ingredients and shake well to emulsify. Taste and adjust salt, etc. Makes about 1 cup.
¼ cup lemon juice
⅔ cup olive oil
2 large cloves garlic, grated
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon honey
Pinch salt
Healthy pinch cayenne
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*RECIPE: Sauce Verte, adapted from The French Kitchen Cookbook, by Patricia Wells
Makes about 1 cup
In her recipe note, Patricia Wells writes that this “gorgeous, pungent sauce,” a regular at her summer table, comes from her friend Jeffrey Bergman. She recommends drizzling it on grilled vegetables, fish, or meat. I’ve adjusted it slightly so that you can make it in a mini-food processor.
1 large shallot, peeled and cut up
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
Zest of ½ lemon
½ teaspoon sea salt
¼ teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
2 tablespoons cider vinegar (or champagne or white-wine vinegar)
1 ¼ cup parsley leaves
2 heaping tablespoons roughly chopped chives
10 to 12 mint leaves
1 packed tablespoon tarragon leaves
2 tablespoons capers, drained
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
4 or 5 anchovy filets, drained and minced
In the bowl of a mini food processor, combine the shallot, lemon juice and zest, salt, and pepper and process until minced. Let this sit for 10 minutes.
Add the cider vinegar, parsley, chives, mint, tarragon, capers, and olive oil and process until you have a slightly chunky puree. Transfer to a small bowl and stir in the minced anchovies. Let this sit for an hour or two to let the flavors meld. You can keep this in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to a week.
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*RECIPE Emily’s Fresh Lemon Herb Vinaigrette
Makes about ¾ cup
You can use any soft summer herbs here—and parsley is good in everything. But this is not the place for rosemary or thyme or sage or other stronger herbs.
2 tablespoons lemon juice
Zest of ½ lemon
2 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 small shallot, cut up (or 1 small garlic clove, cut up)
1 heaping cup mixed herb leaves and sprigs (I used basil, mint, dill, parsley, and tarragon)
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon honey
⅓ cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil
Pinch salt
Place all ingredients except the olive oil and salt in the bowl of a mini food processor and process to combine; with the motor still running, drizzle in the olive oil and process until you have a nice green emulsion. Season with a pinch of salt; taste and adjust. You may want more lemon or vinegar or even a touch more olive oil. This will keep in the refrigerator in a sealed jar for 4 or 5 days.
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Heidi Swenson has a northern Chinese salad recipe for 90% cilantro, a handful of crisp asparagus, and fried shallots, with a dressing of fried shallot oil, soy and some other ingredients. It is absolutely surprising and amazing.
It's so true that herbs are undervalued in our general society nowadays (or used as useless garnishes), despite the fact that our English colonial fore-bearers came from a tradition of herbal salads. I love this mix for a "salat" from a famous English court cookbook, c1390: parsel, sawge, garlec, chybollus, oynons, lek, borage, myntes, porrettes, fenels and towne cressis rewe rosmarye, purslary (parsley, sage, garlic, chives, onions, leek, borage, mint, scallion, fennel and nasturtium, rue, rosemary, purslane), or this edict from a 19th century American "Cook and Housekeeper's Dictionary:" "The following are the principal herbs used as salads. Basil, balm, borage, burnet, celery, chervil, colewort, coriander, corn-salad, cresses, endive, French fennel, lettuce, mint, mustard, nasturtiums, nettle-tops, parsley, pennyroyal, radishes, rape, sage, sorrel, spinage, tarragon, and water-cresses." I find this too fabulous for words.