Instructions
As we enter the last tentative days of Spring, the gardens around us have erupted. Where a month ago they were sparse and uncertain, there are now torrents of lush verdant growth tumbling through the front yards of the suburbs.
For those who have a herb bed, this is a spectacular time indeed. The parsley is vigorous, the basil has flourished, and mint is making a nuisance of itself as it snakes through all the garden. But to my mind, the most remarkable of all herbs is sage.
Sage barely survives the winter, reduced to a woody skeleton of easily-broken stems. Its few cold-weather leaves are small and flavourless, and many gardeners give up on its future, concluding that the plant has succumbed to the long cold season.
But in a matter of weeks, or days it seems, the plant transforms itself from dullard to darling, sprouting effortlessly in bouquets of highly-fragrant leaves crowned with delicate purple flowers.
And for the gourmet, this is an annual rite of passage. The first soft grey-green leaves are plucked and tossed into myriad dishes. The camphor and pine-notes of the sage (reminiscent of rosemary but with deeper subtlety and more lingering taste) fill the house invitingly.
Stuffed into rolled pork roasts, or shredded through near-naked pasta with a just a sprinkling of cheese and olive oil, sage is complex and grounding. Some herbs are simply perfumes that provide top-note character to complete a meal – marjoram and chives are good examples, but sage is more robust and purposeful containing both earthy base flavours as well as the more typical accentuations.
To really celebrate sage, though, you need to offer it a platform upon which to shine, coupling it with more delicate ingredients like potatoes and mushrooms. In this context, sage can display its glorious ranges of culinary talents, a feast for the nose as well as the palate!
Sage, mushroom and potato tortilla