May 1, 2017 – Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme

        Do you remember that haunting song by Simon & Garfunkel?   I still do and it was a hit back when I was about 12 years old.   I never caught on to the subtle meaning of the subtext of the second singer; I only remember the herbs listed out and a few other phrases.

        It is strange how I remember that haunting tune when I am thinking about my herb gardens.  But, then, I happened upon the PBS series Rosemary & Thyme which is a delightful show about two professional gardeners that find dead bodies and such in the gardens they are creating or re-making.  The show’s opening theme song reminds me of those haunting notes of the Simon & Garfunkel tune.

        Yes, this is a long introduction to something that happened the other day while I was making homemade chicken soup.  But that tune plays in my head anytime I am working with herbs in the garden or in the kitchen. [Maybe it is the sign of a crazy person? Or, maybe not.]

        The grass is wet and I’ve just taken off my wet shoes and put on my dry slippers when I realize I need some fresh parsley from the garden.  Calling on my dutiful husband, who still has his day shoes on, I sweetly ask him to fetch me some parsley from the garden.  I gave him directions and point to it from the kitchen window.

        “In the center of that first row are two round clumps of green.  The one on the left is the better one, it is curly parsley. The other one is the Italian flat and it is starting to bolt.  Pick me a couple of really nice stems.”

        Out he goes as I am dicing the celery.  He comes back with two 6-inch fronds of fresh dill. 

        “That’s dill and it was on the end – not the middle,” I said flatly.    He is a good sport and goes out again after I give him basically the same instructions.

Yet, I am thinking, ‘sure he picked the only dill plant that volunteered from last year’s dill going to seed and I was nurturing it to get fresh seeds this year because the dill I have planted does want to germinate.  I’ve had drifts of re-seeded dill for years and now suddenly it doesn’t want to re-seed.  What have they hybridized the seed or something?’

        I have moved onto the dicing of the onions.  He returns with a 6 inch branch of Rosemary.  He is rubbing it under his nose,

        “This smells great!” He says.

        “That is Rosemary,” I say shaking my head and smiling at him for his second, unproductive attempt at assisting me, the cook.

        “That was on the end of the second row,” I add not getting angry or exasperated.  What would be the point of getting into a fight over fresh herbs?  Life is too short. I am actually surprised at my level of patience.

But, I am thinking, ‘Never ask a man to do woman’s work . . . it is simply better to just do it yourself . . . yes, I do need to move all my herbs to the garden off the patio. Now that I have those new patio pavers installed I can simply walk out, even in my bare feet, to fetch fresh herbs.’

        “Then, I can’t find it,” He replies and sits down in his favorite chair to watch golf.  

        I am now scraping the carrots and then dicing them fine.  A thought occurs to me – way too much dill and too much rosemary for this one pot of homemade chicken soup.  What would be the point of going out to get fresh parsley now?  I won’t dice these herbs to put in the soup or it will be too strong.  I guess I will simply tie them into a “bouquet garni” like Julia Child . . . or was it Martha Stewart? Doesn’t matter, I will be Chef Tell today.

        Eventually, all the ingredients in the pot have come to a slow simmer and I toss the fresh, fragrant bouquet garni, tied with a bit of string, on top with a flourish and pop the lid on. 

We will go with the flow, go with only dill and rosemary.  I bet he won’t be able to tell the difference.

        Then I notice I am softly singing.

“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

. . . . a true love of mine.”