Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall
LATIN NAME
Mentha species
SEASONALITY
April–October
MORE RECIPES
Artichoke heart and potato salad; Griddled aubergines with spiced yoghurt; Raw asparagus and radish salad; Broad bean and feta falafel; Roasted courgettes and onions with yoghurt dressing; Barley and raw mushroom salad; Noodle salad with spicy peanut butter dressing; Fried salmon with cucumber and gooseberry salad; Spiced papaya salsa; Crab apple jelly with thyme, juniper and mint
Mint is a herb used prolifically in cuisines across the globe so it seems fitting that it also grows promiscuously – rampaging over the poorest ground, pushing its way through cracks and crevices and elbowing other plants out of the way.
I couldn’t possibly be without mint – several kinds of mint – in my garden, but I have to keep it trammelled and controlled, planting it in large pots, or in bottomed-out containers sunk into the soil. Otherwise, perhaps in league with nettles and horseradish, mint would simply take over the world.
Indeed, this is a herb that recognises few frontiers. It would be easy to draw a minty map that spans the earth, from our own, cherished mint sauce to the kofte of Turkey and the dolmades of Greece, taking in the tisanes and tagines of Morocco, the minty salads and soups of the Middle East, and the pungent sambals of Southeast Asia on the way. Mint has an ability that not all herbs share – to grace sweet and savoury dishes with equal charm. It is assertive enough to be noticed, mild enough to mingle.
I see mint as a quintessentially summery herb, perfectly at home with fresh berries, cooling cocktails, salads and grilled meat. And if you grow your own, summer will be the best time to use it. However, keep it well watered, trim back regularly and pinch out flowering stems, and you’ll be able to extend your mint season from early spring well into the autumn.
The alternative is to buy mint in the supermarket – a touch-and-go affair as it can sometimes be very disappointing – or, much better, to go to a farm shop or market stall. Shops that specialise in Asian or Middle Eastern ingredients may well have properly generous bunches too: it pays to ask, because savvy shopkeepers don’t always have it on display, preferring to keep it fresh and cool out back. Mint is not a herb that does well on the shelf; once cut, it soon wilts. At home, trim off the dried stem ends to ‘open’ them and keep in a jug of cold water to prolong their life. You’ll get 10 days from a big cut bunch at the cooler end of the kitchen.
Pretty much the only mint you’re likely to be able to buy as a cut herb is spearmint, i.e. the softer and sweeter type. It’s also called ‘common’ or ‘garden’ mint and is the most versatile and useful variety, perfect for everything from a tabbouleh to a mojito.
As soon as you visit the garden centre rather than the grocers, however, you’ll discover how much more there is to mint. For a start, there are many sub-types of spearmint, such as the glorious, sweet Moroccan mint, which is perfect for mint tea (and doubles for most garden mint applications). And then there is the other main type of mint, peppermint, which, as the name suggests, has a much more piquant, menthol bite. It can be overpowering if used in the wrong dish (a delicate cucumber salad, say) but to some, it’s even better for tea than spearmint. It’s also great for making minty syrups to trickle over fruit or cakes, or in chocolatey puds such as mousses.
Many of the multiplicity of ‘flavoured’ mints that await you are forms of peppermint too. Chocolate mint, ‘berries and cream’ mint, basil mint, orange, lemon, lime or grapefruit mint – it’s a tempting catalogue. I’ve found ginger mint (with fruit) and pineapple mint (in Pimms) to be worthwhile, but don’t get too carried away – you really cannot beat basic garden spearmint for everyday deliciousness. Also, don’t grow different mints together as they can cross-pollinate and lose their distinctive flavours.
Other forms of mint you may come across include watermint, which grows wild near streams and in other damp places. Well worth seeking out if you don’t grow your own mint, it has a strong flavour – more like peppermint than spearmint – and makes a stunning sorbet, and a pleasingly quirky mojito.
And, while I’m not a huge fan of dried herbs, a good, strong dried mint – such as you’ll be able to get from a decent herb and spice specialist or stores catering to Greek, Turkish and Arab communities – is an intriguing ingredient. With a smoky, earthy character, it’s essential for authentic flavour in dishes such as dolmades and tzatziki. It tastes different to fresh mint – the bitter notes are more to the fore – but in these contexts, that is how it should be.
When it comes to using fresh mint, don’t be confined by convention. It’s fabulous, of course, in the simple jellies and vinegary sauces that we love with roast meat, particularly lamb. But raw, torn mint is like gustatory gilding on the gutsy, smoky, rough-hewn deliciousness of barbecued meat too. This herb is also marvellous with veg, especially spring and summer veg, from asparagus, broad beans and peas in June to courgettes and aubergines in August. Just chop it or roll up the leaves into a tight ‘cigar’ and slice finely into ribbons then scatter over the veg – or stir into yoghurty sauces or simple dressings. Try mint in place of other herbs in favourite dishes – swap it for parsley in gremolata or use it to usurp basil in your tomato salads. It will totally reinvigorate the old cliché, ‘a refreshing change’.
Mint’s cool sweetness can be superb with raw fruit – it has a subtle seasoning effect, almost like lemon juice (although it’s delicious with a spritz of lemon or lime juice as well). Top partners for mint include strawberries, raspberries, peaches, apples, mangoes and pineapple.
And then, after all that feasting, do try that cup of mint tea – the best herbal infusion (and digestif) there is. On a hot day, lightly sweetened, cooled and poured over ice, it manages to be both soothing and refreshing at the same time.
This is a tabbouleh-style dish and, like any tabbouleh, it should be all about the herbs. In this case, it’s mint alone, which is a surprisingly good partner to tomatoes. You could replace the pearled spelt with pearl barley (which will take a little longer to cook), or use the traditional bulgar wheat, or even gluten-free quinoa. Serves 4
200g pearled spelt
A large bunch of spearmint (about 100g)
400g ripe, flavoursome tomatoes (any size, including cherry)
A bunch of spring onions
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 tbsp cider vinegar
½ tsp caster sugar
Sea salt and black pepper
Put the spelt in a sieve and rinse well. Tip into a pan and cover with cold water. Pick the mint leaves from the stems and add the stems to the spelt pan; reserve the leaves. Bring to a simmer and cook until tender but nutty, about 20 minutes.
Drain the spelt in a colander. Chop the tomatoes into roughly 1cm pieces and slice the spring onions thinly.
While the spelt is still warm, tip it into a large bowl, add the olive oil, vinegar and sugar and season generously with salt and pepper. Now add the tomatoes and spring onions.
Take several mint leaves at a time, roll them into ‘cigars’ and cut them into thin ribbons. Scatter the mint into the salad. Use your hands to tumble everything together thoroughly. The warmth of the spelt will bring out all the flavours in the mint and tomatoes. Allow the salad to stand for 15–20 minutes, check the seasoning, then serve.