There is a quiet pleasure in stepping out of the back door with a pair of scissors and returning thirty seconds later with a handful of basil or a fistful of parsley. Nothing from a supermarket feels quite the same. The trouble is that herbs rarely oblige in polite quantities: by late July the mint has taken over its pot, the coriander has bolted, and you are pressing bunches on anyone who stands still long enough.
Preserving is the answer, and it is far easier than most people imagine. You need no dehydrator or vacuum sealer — a length of string, a cool cupboard, an ice cube tray and a little patience will carry your summer harvest well into the darker months.
Flavour lives in the volatile oils, and those oils are at their most concentrated just before a plant flowers. Once buds form, cut. Left longer, the herb puts its energy into flower and seed, and the leaves turn woody and bland.
Harvest mid-morning, after the dew has dried but before the sun warms the leaves and drives off the oils. Handle the stems gently — bruising releases aroma into the air rather than into your jar. Rinse only if the herbs are dusty, then shake them thoroughly or spin them dry. Surface water left on the leaves encourages mould.
Air drying suits the woody herbs best: rosemary, thyme, oregano, sage, marjoram and bay. Their leaves are low in moisture and hold their character well.
Gather five or six stems into a loose bunch, no thicker than your thumb, tie it with string and hang it upside down in a cool, dark, well-ventilated room. An airing cupboard is too warm and a windowsill far too bright; sunlight bleaches the leaves and destroys flavour. Aim for somewhere around 18–21°C with a little moving air.
For soft herbs such as parsley, dill and mint, slip the bunch inside a paper bag with a few holes punched in it, to catch falling leaves and keep off the dust. Most herbs are ready in one to three weeks: the stems should snap rather than bend, and the leaves should crumble between your fingers.
Damp, still weather can stall air drying, and a mouldy bunch is a dispiriting sight. If conditions turn against you, finish the job indoors.
Whichever route you take, the herbs must be bone dry before storage. Any lingering moisture will turn the whole jar musty.
Soft-leaved herbs lose much of their punch when dried; basil in particular turns brown and tastes of little more than hay. Freezing keeps that bright green flavour far better, and it takes minutes.
Chop the leaves roughly and pack them into an ice cube tray, pressing down lightly. Top each cube with water, or better still a mild olive oil, and freeze overnight. Once solid, tip the cubes into a labelled freezer bag. Whole leaves work well too: spread them on a tray, freeze until firm, then bag them up so you can take out exactly what you need.
Another route is herb butter. Beat chopped leaves into softened butter, roll it into a log in cling film and freeze. A slice melted over new potatoes in February is a small triumph.
Dried herbs hold their flavour best whole, so crush them only when you cook. Decant into small airtight jars, ideally dark glass, and keep them in a cool, dark cupboard rather than beside the hob, where heat and steam do them no favours. Label each jar with the date; dried herbs are at their peak for about a year, frozen cubes for six months or so.
Give dried herbs time to work. They need a few minutes in a moist environment to rehydrate and release their oils, so add them early to casseroles, stews, soups and sauces. As a rough guide, one teaspoon of dried stands in for a tablespoon of fresh. Frozen cubes go straight into the pan — drop one into a curry, a tomato sauce or a roasting tin of vegetables and let it melt into the dish.
A few jars on a shelf and a tray of green ice cubes in the freezer is a modest sort of treasure, but come January, when the pots are bare and the garden is grey, you will be very glad of them.
Haven & Hearth shares practical, down-to-earth guidance on calm home and garden sanctuary for readers across the UK.
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