Artemisia dracunculus. The name conjures up mythical realms. Kingdoms filled with swirling mists, ancient turreted castles perched atop snowy peaks, emerald-green enchanted forests, fire-breathing flame-wreathed dragons. Worlds worthy of the Game of Thrones.

The plant however with its delicate blade-like green leaves does more than just conjure up mythical fantasies, it works magic in the harsh reality of the modern day kitchen.

tarragon sprig

If you are not already a lover of tarragon then now is the time to enchant yourself and dash out and buy a plant – or at the very least buy a plastic bag of tarragon from the herb section of your supermarket. Well if you can find it, that is.

You’ll never regret planting tarragon in your garden – every spring it reliably reappears pushing new green shoots up through the soil regardless of whether you have watered or not. And then until fairly late into winter you’ll have a steady supply of flavour on your doorstep.

Ever since I first had a tarragon plant I’ve had dreams of making a dish using the four  fines herbes but have never had much luck growing chervil, nor parsley for that matter. I think chervil requires just a little more care than I am ever able to give a plant. Although as I write this I wonder if we have any chervil seeds and if I should quickly go out into the garden and plant them.

I haven’t actually used tarragon in a very classic way. For example I’ve never in my life made a Béarnaise sauce. For many years the only way I used tarragon was stuffed into the cavity of  a chicken done the Nico Ladenis way – with honey and black pepper. I believed that recipe alone was the reason to have a never-ending supply of tarragon.

But I do keep wondering how else I can put my bountiful supply to good use. I’ve made Heidi Swanson’s tarragon oil a couple of times, most recently as part of a trio of potions for Scarlet Bennett’s creative challenge. Tarragon oil is a versatile and essential addition to any grocery cupboard. Make yourself a batch – you won’t be sorry. Lately I’ve been a bit obsessed with pairing tarragon with lovage as in green eggs and frittata. I’ve made tarragon tempura – and lovage tempura too. Tarragon leaves brighten up a jug of iced water and the stalks make a good tea. I’m sipping some as I write.

On Sunday I served antipasti from Super Sconto to our Allaboutwriting ‘Secret of Story’ participants. I bought some bocconcini and I thought I’d mix them with baby tomatoes in a salad but I really needed some basil, or pesto which I didn’t have. I hate buying basil and  pesto but our basil is nowhere near pickable yet. I stood staring out at the vegetable garden and the tiny basil plants wondering what else we had in the garden that could add a little Italian flavour – origanum and rosemary certainly could. I could make a nice olive oil dressing of course. But I had my heart set on pesto. Mmmm. Could I make a tarragon pesto, I wondered?

I grabbed the scissors and in no time at all I was whipping up a batch of tarragon pesto. Inspired by the Nico Ladenis chicken recipe, not so very Italian after all…

Tarragon pesto with honey and black pepper

Ingredients

  • 100g tarragon leaves (stripped from their stalks)
  • 250 ml olive oil
  • 135 grams flaked almonds
  • 30 grams honey
  • 4 smallish cloves fresh garlic (5 grams)
  • 5 grams coarsely grated black pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt

Method

Blend the whole lot together but don’t over-process.

Use the tarragon pesto:

  • to enliven a tomato and mozzarella salad
  • as a  pasta sauce
  • as a filling in an omelet
  • over baked potatoes
  • mix with mayonnaise and serve with cold chicken
  • stirred into a soup
  • with sliced cheese, cold meat and rocket for lunch

tarragon pesto 2

Next up I’ll be making tarkhun, tarragon cake, potica, tarragon ice cream and tarragon jelly. Pity it is already dark or I’d be out in the garden harvesting leaves.

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