Tarragon Is More Than
Just a Name; It’s a Flavor
By Anne Sala
If you ever find yourself at a plant nursery holding a pot of tarragon in your hand, contemplating its addition to your home garden, make sure to pinch off a leaf and take a taste. This quick test will reveal more about the plant than the tag stuck into the soil. Are you face-to-face with the sweet herb prized by a world-famous cuisine, or its bitter cousin from the north? If the leaf has a spicy zing, the little plant before you may be a Central American substitution.
Tarragon is known as the “king of herbs” in France, but it may come as a surprise to learn that for such an esteemed herb, it is often mislabeled or propagated from exhausted source plants in the United States. This is a shame since tarragon is an herb that the rest of the world should get to know better. Its thin leaves have a powerful flavor that can elevate a simple meal.
Follow the Flavor
A perennial, leafy herb, tarragon produces tall, tender stems carrying long, lance-shaped leaves. Depending on the variety, the plant may or may not produce flowers. It has a curling rhizomelike root, reminiscent of a serpent or dragon’s tail—giving it its French name estragon, which means “dragon.” This name, in turn, is thought to come from the Persian word tarkhun, which also means “dragon.”
Tarragon’s origins hail from the cold regions of Siberia and its descendent is Russian tarragon (Artemisia dracunculoides), a hardy perennial that unfortunately has a faint and bitter taste. Mongolian invaders carried this herb with them as they pushed their way into Europe and South Asia. When introduced to the Romans, they quickly incorporated it into their medicinal arsenal due to its antifungal and anti-diabetic qualities. It also contains the essential oils estragol, an antimicrobial compound, and eugenol, an anesthetic, making it a popular remedy for toothaches.
Russian tarragon (Artemisia dracunculoides) can thrive under harsh conditions and is easily raised from seeds produced by its small, yellowish flowers. Its ease of care makes this variety of tarragon popular with landscapers, but it is not recommended for cooking since its flavor is so weak.
French tarragon (Artemisia dracunculus) came on to the scene sometime between the thirteenth and fifteenth centuries. The taste of this variety is sweet, peppery, and aniselike with a hint of mint. One taste—even one sneaked in the herb aisle at the plant nursery—is enough to prove its “king of herbs” moniker. As a more cultivated plant, this version of tarragon is not as easy to grow as its northern cousin. It rarely flowers unless in a very warm climate and its seeds are usually sterile. However, it will readily grow new plants from root cuttings.
For such a prized plant, the myth of tarragon’s origins is rather humble. No god transformed a lover into it. No one’s tears made it spring from the earth. Indeed, folklore claims it came about simply when someone put a flax seed into a radish root and planted it.
Despite this rather plain story, tarragon’s genus name makes reference to the Greek goddess Artemis, the goddess of the moon and chastity. This is because tarragon’s green leaves have a slight silvery color, as if seen in moonlight. That being said, centuries ago few travelers would have ventured far without it due to the belief that tarragon could heal not only the bite of snakes and mad dogs, but also the bite of a dragon.
The third variety of this herb, winter tarragon (Tagetes lucida) or Mexican marigold, is actually related to marigolds and hails from Central America. The Aztecs burned the herb as an incense, and its yellow flowers are used as a dye. Its flavor is aniselike, quite similar to French tarragon, but with a spicy endnote reminiscent of cinnamon. Plus, as French tarragon is not very cold hardy, many gardeners happily plant winter tarragon instead since it can withstand great temperature ranges.
Stir the Pot
As I was doing research for this article, I leafed through my copy of Ginette Mathiot’s Je Sais Cuisiner (I Know How to Cook), first published in France in 1932, and took note of every sauce recipe that called for tarragon. I found seven. This includes the familiar Bearnaise and tartar sauces, as well as more mysterious sounding ones, like crapaudine (froglike) sauce, which is served with rabbit.
It seems tarragon could easily be added to almost any recipe, but take your cues from the exhaustive research conducted by generations of French chefs. To make the most of the herb’s unique qualities, the French usually pair it with chicken, seafood, eggs, tomatoes, fruit, and berries. It is generally incorporated into a sauce or condiment due to its ability to overpower a dish with its licorice flavor.
An even better way to temper the administration and flavor of tarragon is to combine it with other herbs. Fines herbes is a mixture containing equal parts tarragon, parsley, chives, and chervil (another delicate, anise-flavored herb). The flavor is at its peak, of course, when made with fresh leaves, but a bottle of this dried in the cupboard is a secret weapon when its contents are sprinkled on a simmering soup.
Nevertheless, the essential oils in French tarragon dissipate relatively quickly once the herb is dried. A much better way to preserve the plant is to store it in vinegar. Mixing the leaves into butter is another popular way to preserve their flavor, but it does not keep for as long. The recipe is included below.
For the sake of this article, I will focus on using just French tarragon in the recipes, however, winter tarragon can certainly be used.
Tarragon Recipes
Tarragon Vinegar
Makes 1 bottle
Storing tarragon in vinegar is an age-old way to extend this delicate herb’s use. One can easily remove a few leaves and use them just like fresh leaves. As a bonus, you also have a bottle of versatile tarragon vinegar that can be used to flavor salad dressings, fried fish, or anything else that calls for an acidic touch.
4–6 sprigs fresh tarragon
2 cups white wine vinegar
Rinse and thoroughly dry the sprigs, then stuff into a clean, scalded jar. Pour in the vinegar, and cap it. Keep in a dark cupboard at least a week before using. The longer you leave the herbs in the vinegar, the more intense the tarragon vinegar flavor. Use a fork or tongs to fish out a sprig when needed. The tarragon leaves can be used as long as they aren’t slimy looking.
Seared Chicken Cutlets with Tarragon Butter Sauce
Serves 4–6
This recipe has hundreds of permutations because it is simply so good. The light sauce can be dressed up with cream or made even easier by substituting dried herbs for fresh.
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
2 pounds skinless boneless chicken breasts, sliced into thin cutlets
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 small red onion, chopped
1 clove garlic
1⁄3 cup dry white wine
1 cup chicken broth
1⁄4 cup fresh tarragon sprigs, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice or sherry vinegar
Heat half the oil in a sauté pan or skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chicken cutlets and brown them, turning once, until cooked through. Make sure to not crowd the pieces. Sauté in batches, adding more oil if necessary. Transfer the cooked pieces to a plate and loosely cover with foil.
Return the pan to the heat and melt 1 tablespoon butter. When it has finished foaming, add the red onion. Cook until softened, then add the garlic. As soon as you can smell the garlic’s aroma, pour in the wine.
Use a wooden spoon to scrape up the browned bits sticking to the pan, and allow the wine to simmer. Once the liquid has reduced by almost half, add the chicken broth. When it begins to simmer, turn the heat to low, and add the remaining butter. Stir until the butter is incorporated, then remove the pan from the heat. Gently stir in tarragon, parsley, and lemon juice or vinegar. Add salt and pepper to taste. Serve with buttered green beans and crusty bread.
“Fine Herbs” Finishing Oil
Makes about 2⁄3 cup
I’m calling this “Fine Herbs” instead of fines herbes because I could not source fresh chervil for this recipe. Even so, this oil is a divine addition to corn chowder or drizzled over toasted French bread. It will keep in the refrigerator for about 2 weeks but will congeal. Allow it to warm on the counter for at least 30 minutes before use. Have a bowl of ice water and clean tea towels at the ready before blanching the herbs.
2 tablespoons salt
3⁄4 cup tarragon leaves
3⁄4 cup parsley leaves
1⁄8 cup chives
3⁄4 cup extra virgin olive oil
Fill a large pot about two-thirds of the way with water and place over high heat. Add salt and bring to a boil. Drop in the herbs and blanch for about 10 seconds. Use tongs to quickly remove the herbs from the hot water and immerse them in the cold water. Drain the herbs and dry them in tea towels. Try to remove as much moisture as you can.
Place the herbs and olive oil into a food processor or blender. Purée until smooth. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl or measuring cup, pressing down on the solids to extract as much oil as possible. Discard the herbs. Pour the oil into a jar with a lid. It is ready to use immediately.
Roast Salmon with I-Should-Have-Planted-More-Tarragon Pesto
Serves 4
The idea for this dish came to me as I was making the “Fine Herbs” finishing oil. It occurred to me that the addition of just a few more ingredients would make it so the greens didn’t need to be discarded. And if you find yourself running out of tarragon before your curiosity is satisfied, this is a good way to stretch those tender leaves. The recipe below, however, does not require you to blanch the herbs first.
1 cup tarragon leaves and tender stems
1 cup parsley
1⁄2 cup chives
2 garlic cloves
1 tablespoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1⁄2 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 pounds salmon fillets with skin, cut into 4 pieces
Pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 425°F. Place the herbs, garlic, lemon zest, and salt into a food processor. Pulse four or five times until the herbs begin to collapse. Pour in the olive oil and blend until the mixture is smooth.
Line a baking sheet with foil, and place the 4 pieces of salmon on top, skin side down. Use a rubber spatula to spread the tarragon pesto on top of each piece, leaving a quarter-inch border of flesh exposed around the edges.
Roast for about 15 minutes or until cooked through. Use a spatula to separate the meat from the skin, which usually sticks to the foil, and discard the skin. Transfer the fillets to plates. Serve with orzo pasta and new peas.
Mashed Peas with Tarragon Cream
Serves 4
1⁄3 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon cold unsalted butter
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon dried tarragon
1 cup water
3 cups frozen peas
Salt and pepper to taste
Warm the cream, butter, salt, and tarragon in a small saucepan over medium-low. Heat until the butter has melted, but do not let it boil. Cover the pan, turn off the heat, and allow the mixture to steep while you prepare the peas.
Place the water in a medium-size saucepan over high heat and bring to a rapid boil. Add the peas, cover the pan, and bring the contents back up to a boil. Then, lower the heat and simmer the peas for 3 to 5 minutes. Drain.
Pour the cream through a fine mesh colander, and into the pot of peas. Discard the tarragon. Mash the peas with a potato masher until they reach your preferred consistency. Season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately.
Roasted Strawberry Tarragon Mousse
Serves 4
You can roast the strawberries ahead of time. They will keep in the refrigerator for a few days.
1 pint hulled strawberries, patted dry, plus 4 whole
strawberries for garnish
8 sprigs fresh tarragon, divided
1⁄2 cup sugar
1 1⁄2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 scant tablespoon (1 packet) unflavored gelatin
6 tablespoons hot water
1 1⁄3 cups whipping cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup (about 12) shortbread cookies, crushed
Preheat oven to 350°F. Place hulled strawberries and 4 tarragon sprigs in a glass baking dish. Sprinkle with sugar and lemon juice, and toss to coat. Roast for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until strawberries soften and give up their juice. Set aside to cool.
Remove and discard the tarragon sprigs. Use a spoon or spatula to break up the strawberries into smaller pieces. To speed up the cooling process, you can scrape the strawberries and juices into a nonreactive bowl and set inside another bowl filled with ice water or chill in the refrigerator.
Place the gelatin in a small bowl and add the hot water. Stir until it dissolves, then add to the bowl containing the strawberries. Stir frequently until the gelatin starts to set, coating the spoon in a thin layer. This should take about 10 minutes.
Beat whipping cream and vanilla in chilled bowl with an electric mixer until it holds peaks. Fold three-fourths of the whipped cream into the strawberries until the mixture is tinged pink.
Assemble the dessert by alternating layers of mousse, cookie crumbs, and plain whipped cream into tall glasses. Garnish each with a whole strawberry and sprig of tarragon.
Blackberry and Tarragon Popsicles
Makes 6–8
The tarragon shines through in this simple summertime treat. You will need either a popsicle mold with sticks or an ice cube tray with toothpicks. If there is any leftover after filling the popsicle molds, freeze in an ice cube tray and add to cocktails or lemonade. The sugar is first incorporated into a simple syrup before mixing with the blackberries, so it can be made ahead and stored in the refrigerator for about three months. Feel free to reduce the amount of simple syrup used in the popsicles. It is also possible to replace a portion of the syrup with gin or vodka.
1 cup sugar
1⁄2 cup water
1 1⁄2 pints blackberries
1⁄8 cup fresh tarragon leaves
1⁄4 cup fresh lemon juice
To make the simple syrup, bring the sugar and water to a boil in a small saucepan over high heat, stirring frequently. Cover, reduce the heat, and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and allow to cool completely. At this point the syrup can be stored in the refrigerator for up to three months.
Place the blackberries, tarragon, lemon juice, and 1 cup of simple syrup into a blender. Purée until smooth. Strain the mixture into a bowl through a fine sieve. Use a spatula to stir the sieve’s contents when the seeds begin to block the holes. Divide the bowl’s contents into popsicle molds, insert sticks, and freeze overnight.
For Further Reading
Gilbert, Linda. “Tarragon.” Sally’s Place. www.sallybernstein.com/food/columns/gilbert/tarragon.htm.
Hemphill, John and Rosemary. What Herb Is That?: How to Grow and Use the Culinary Herbs. Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1997.
Hollis, Sarah. The Country Diary Herbal. New York: Henry Holt & Company, 1990.
Mathiot, Ginette. I Know How to Cook. New York: Phaidon Press, 2009.
McVicar, Jekka. Jekka’s Herb Cookbook. Buffalo, NY: Firefly Books, Ltd., 2012.
Murray, Michael T., Joseph Pizzorno, and Lara Pizzorno. The Encyclopedia of Healing Foods. New York: Atria Books, 2005.
Potterton, David (ed.). Culpeper’s Color Herbal. New York: Sterling Publishing Co., Inc., 2007.
Witty, Helen. The Good Stuff Cookbook. New York: Workman Publishing, 1997.
Anne Sala is a freelance journalist from Minnesota. This summer, her herbs did not thrive due to unseasonably cold weather. Nevertheless, her two children delighted in every plant and happily harvested leaves for hot tea—bringing the aroma and warmth of summer to their bellies if not to their skin.