Chives: A Tonic for the Sagging Spirit and Most Recipes

Rounding the bend in the garden the other day, I cheered out loud when I discovered a chive plant thriving in a neglected corner. How it survived this winter's vigorous pruning activity that brought in a horde of tree trimmers who trampled every inch of the garden, I'll ever know. But there it was, no worse for the wear, its cheery purple heads bobbing in the warm spring air.

The smallest of the edible onion family, allium schoenoprasum is a cousin to the garlic, leek and shallot. They are grown mainly for their leaves that have a mild onion-y, garlicky flavor, but the flowers are edible too, either chopped up or served whole as a dramatic garnish.

Traditional Chinese medicine holds that chives restore the energy balance in a body worn down by winter. I'm sure it's true: There's nothing more revitalizing to the spirit than discovering a bunch of chives in the spring garden.

Chives are an easy-to-grow perennial in pots, or in the herb garden either as individual plants or in large clumps. You can keep the season going right up to the first frost by cutting the leaves down to about 2 inches above the ground which encourages new growth. It's best to harvest chives when the leaves are young, as they start to get chewy and fibrous as they age. And don't wash the leaves until you're ready to use them because prolonged moisture will cause decay.

In the kitchen, I love chopped chives on a baked potato, a plate of scrambled eggs, or mixed in with risotto. It's mild enough to serve with fish without overwhelming the fish. I like to mix chives into egg salad, tuna salad or chicken salad for a little extra flavor. I make an herb butter that is terrific slathered over corn on the cob, or simply smeared on French bread. Another favorite: a summer fruit and lettuce salad dressed with a light vinaigrette and minced chives.

Here's a really simple recipe for a dip that is divine with grilled lamb chops or lamb burgers.

Green Goddess Dip with Chives

3/4 Cup sour cream
3/4 Cup mayonnaise
2 Cloves garlic, mashed
1/4 Cup fresh parsley leaves
2 Teaspoons fresh tarragon, chopped
1 Tablespoon lemon juice
2 Anchovy fillets
1/4 Cup fresh chives, minced
Salt and ground pepper to taste

Toss the first seven ingredients into a blender (save the chives and salt & pepper for adding later). Transfer to a bowl and gently stir in the minced chives. Season with salt and pepper. Chill in the refrigerator at least an hour before serving to marry the flavors.

While we're at it, here's a wonderful dip that's great with raw veggies, crackers or pita chips.

Feta Dip with Chives

3/4 Cup Greek yogurt
1/2 Cup crumbled feta cheese
1 15-ounce can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1-2 Cloves garlic, depending on the size of the cloves
1 Tablespoon lemon juice
2 Tablespoons each: chopped fresh parsley, chopped fresh dill, chopped fresh chives and chopped fresh mint
1 Teaspoon fresh ground pepper

Put the first five ingredients in the food processor or blender (save the herbs and pepper for adding after). Blend until smooth. Now add the herbs and ground pepper and pulse gently until they are combined. Transfer to a serving bowl and chill overnight. The flavors will fully develop and the dip will thicken to a nice consistency.

French Bread with Garlic-Herb Butter

When I was asked recently to bring some garlic bread to a potluck dinner, I fell immediately back into an old pattern of making a really simple assignment complicated.

I started thinking about a recipe that I’d gotten many years ago from my ex-mother-in-law. She was a marvelous cook, and in an effort to help her rookie-in-the-kitchen daughter-in-law, she gave me a little cookbook, marked up with her tips and advice. The cookbook, entitled “Hummingbirds and Radishes,” was the 1953 edition of the Kenilworth Center of the Infant Welfare Society of Chicago, and had been her go-to resource ever since it was first published. There are about 200 recipes -- some complicated, some very simple -- in this collection, and she had earmarked her favorites.

On page 109, she bookmarked French Bread with Herb Butter, and it’s worth quoting:

There are times when nothing but garlic bread will do – with the meaty casseroles or with any of the Italian things. But for more delicately flavored combinations we prefer our French bread done with herb butter. The possibilities are limited only by the scope of your herb garden or condiment shelf. Here’s one favorite combination. Try this on little three-decker tea sandwiches.

1½ sticks of butter

1 Tablespoon parsley, finely chopped

1 Tablespoon chopped chives or scallions

1 Tablespoon chopped sweet basil

½ Teaspoon lemon juice

1 dash Tabasco sauce

Soften the butter and mix in the herbs and liquids. Slice the bread and butter each slice before heating and serving.

I’ve used this simple recipe many times over the years, and I always get compliments. When I’m feeling very organized, I double the recipe, prepare the bread and freeze the leftovers in small globs to use on vegetables. For the potluck, which had an Italian theme, I mixed in some minced fresh garlic with the herbs and slathered it on a French baguette, and it was very tasty.

But I have never, ever, made tea sandwiches with it, and probably never will even though women must have done that often in 1953. Not this gal.

Drying Garden Herbs

Here in sunny California, the weekend has been overcast and cool, Mother Nature's confirmation that Autumn is indeed here. Not that there aren't plenty of warm and sunny days left; in fact, October can be down right hot. But I also see a change in the garden. Most of the herbs have flowered and been cut back at least twice during the summer, but they are growing more slowly now and I already miss the blowsy, unkempt drifts of oregano, tarragon and lemon verbena.

Before the herbs hunker down for the winter, I'm going to try preserving some of their fragrance and flavor to use in cooking during the cold weather. I don't have a dehydrator, but there are plenty of options I could try: air-drying, microwaving or freezing. I've always liked the look of greens hanging on pot racks in the kitchen or rafters in a barn, so I opted for air-drying.

To start the experiment, I clipped off several 6-8 inch sprigs of the most tender lemon verbena branches, rinsed them thoroughly in cool water and let them dry on a cotton towel. I then bundled them up into a bunch about an inch thick and tied them together with cotton string. I left a length of string long enough to tie the bundle for hanging upside down.

The key to success, I'm told, is to let herbs dry away from direct sunlight where there is good air circulation but no dust, so I tied my bundle to the iron frame of my kitchen lights and waited.

After a couple of weeks, the lemon verbena leaves were crispy-dry and ready to be crumbled and stored in a glass jar. The reward? Lovely cups of hot lemon verbena tea.

You Say Basil, I Say Basil

Herbs were a scarcity in my childhood home. Fresh herbs were virtually unknown, neither grown in the backyard garden nor cultivated in little pots in the kitchen window. The only fresh herb I remember any of us picking was the wild mint that grew rampantly next to the hose bib, and that was reserved for my parents’ gin and tonics during the summer. Spices were limited to paprika to add color to potato salad, curry powder for my mother’s curried shrimp, nutmeg for eggnog during the holidays, and whole cloves and dry mustard for glazing the Sunday ham.

It was this paucity of experience that led to my confusion about Ocimum basilicum. I assumed the green, leafy herb I first discovered on pizza must be pronounced ‘BAZ-uhl,’ as in Basil Rathbone the actor, but later learned that ‘BAYZ-uhl’ was more common.

Much later in life, when I had my own backyard, I learned that basil is one of the easiest and most prolific of plants any gardener could hope for. And there are many varieties and hybrids that not only become lovely landscape plants, but give the cook endless reasons to use basil in hundreds of dishes. The French nailed it when they dubbed basil “l’herbe royale.” For me, basil is the quintessential scent of summer.

This year I planted Sweet Basil and a cultivar called African Blue, and after a few weeks of good heat, they were approaching three feet in height. Last week, my friend Jorge and I whacked them back and we each took an armload of fresh basil, he planning on tomato-basil sauce for pasta, I ready to make pesto.

Often grown for ornamental purposes, African Blue Basil is also great in a multitude of recipes. If left long enough in water, it will grow roots and could be transplanted into pots for growing indoors in the winter.

Basil Pesto

1/3 Cup pine nuts or walnuts

3 medium garlic cloves

2 Cups fresh basil leaves, packed

½ Cup extra virgin olive oil

½ Cup fresh grated Parmesan-Reggiano or Romano cheese

Salt and fresh pepper to taste

Everything goes into the food processor, in this order. If using walnuts, pulse them first with the garlic, then add the basil. Slowly add the olive oil in a constant stream while processor is on. Stop to scrape down the sides with a rubber spatula. Add the grated cheese and pulse again to blend. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Yield: 1 cup. Serve with pasta, over baked potatoes, or spread over toasted baguette slices.

Basil is not limited to Italian or Asian food, nor should it be limited to savory dishes. A few years ago, my son and I embarked on a culinary adventure we will never forget. We indulged in a very elegant dinner at Chef Michael Schlow's Radius in Boston. Oddly enough, neither of us can recall what we ate for our entrees, but we both vividly remember the dessert we shared: basil ice cream. It was ecstasy, and we are still talking about it today. I’m not ambitious enough to make ice cream, but here is something I’m going to try next time I pick basil:

Balsamic and Basil Marinated Berries

4 Cups fresh berries (strawberries or blackberries)

¼ Cup fresh basil leaves, chopped. Save a few for garnish.

2 Tablespoons honey

2 Teaspoons balsamic vinegar

Wash berries and place in a large bowl. Set aside. In a small bowl, macerate the basil and honey together with a pestle. Add vinegar and whisk to combine. Pour basil mixture over the berries, toss to coat, and let sit at room temperature for 30 minutes until softened. Serve over ice cream or pudding. Garnish each serving with a tiny basil leaf.