Indispensable herb
Simon Courtauld
T wonder if the old-fashioned curly
leaved parsley parsley may be making a comeback. This essentially British parsley, which we all knew and loved, was sent to Coventry some while ago and replaced, at least in the kitchens of fashionable, publicity-seeking chefs, by its Euro-equivalent, the French or Italian flat-leaved variety (illustrated below). Watch almost any cookery programme on television or read almost any recipe these days which calls for parsley, and it is the flat-leaved one which will be specified. One wonders what the British parsley did wrong to have been so ostracised. (Something similar has happened in the lettuce world, where Little Gem seems to have overwhelmed all other varieties.) I know there are those who insist that flat-leaved parsley has a better flavour, or that it looks better, but this is, or should be, a matter of opinion. Instead we have been brainwashed into accepting that European is Best; and I admit to having succumbed to the advertising pressure myself. For the past two years we have grown Euro-parsley (the Italian has larger leaves than the French), and I have to report that the seed germinates more quickly than the British, and seems to grow more prolifically. But our crop was badly hit by frost, followed by a fall of snow, in January, and may not recover.
Evidence of a revival in the fortunes of the old curled parsley comes from two sources. Our local supermarket is selling it, grown in Spain, and in the French Alps, where I was skiing last month, it was the only variety available in the shops. This may have something to do with the curly-leaved parsley being hardier, though I have read that it is in fact less likely to survive a winter. Either way, it seems we are being encouraged to get more used to it again — and it is less expensive than the flat-leaved sort when bought by the hunch. Part of the problem may be that the oldfashioned parsley is or was thought of as a garnish rather than as a herb to improve flavour in cooking. (The victors at ancient Greek games used to garnish themselves with parsley, in the form of garlands, though it is not known which variety they used.) But we can surely agree, putting nationalism aside, that one of the best things to do with any country's parsley is to combine it with a white sauce and serve it with white fish or boiled ham or the larger broad beans.
How to define the flavour of parsley? It is not pronounced, or sharp, or even particularly memorable, but, as someone once wrote, it is a combination of 'the flavour and scent of all that is green and of the soil'. Parsley is the herb that one cannot be without, which of course makes it the most popular in European and North American cooking (and second only to coriander in the rest of the world). The uses for it — in stuffings, bouquets garnis, soups, sauces, herb dumplings — are really too numerous to mention. But I find that its 'green flavour' goes particularly well with an otherwise plain omelette or, in large quantities, in a fish pie.
Parsley butter, smeared over a grilled Dover sole, is quite a favourite; so is salsa verde made with lots of chopped parsley, capers, garlic, chilli, olive-oil and lemon juice. Constance Spry has a recipe for a parsley and lemon ice, which I am not sure about, and several of the old books recommend deep-fried parsley sprigs. These should definitely be tried, if only because the curled parsley — with its denser, firmer leaves — is so much more suitable for frying than the other sort. Then we shall have another reason to say that British parsley is coming in from the cold.
Starting in October 1999, this column has now dealt with 42 vegetables, herbs and fruit commonly grown in an English garden; and it is running out of subjects. Any especially attentive readers might ask, what about runner beans? — or, why have you left out pears? To which my answer is
Locv Vickery
that they are not yet in season, and I think we have covered almost everything else that is grown to be eaten at other times of year. If anyone was waiting eagerly for globe artichokes, or dill, then I apologise; but, as politicians enjoy saying, it is time to draw a line under this one and move on. And so, for the future, this column, while remaining similar in approach, and with the inestimable advantage of Lucy Vickery's wonderful illustrations, will be devoted to fish. The new series begins next month with mackerel.
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