Nigel Slater savours his herb of the season, mint

Tag: Black Watermelon Seed
Whatever impression I give of this kitchen and its little garden being in good order, I have to admit some things often have a will of their own. A loaf or a cake will sometimes do as it wishes, vegetables will run rampant or sulk, herbs move themselves to an inconvenient part of the garden. It has been very much that way with the garden mint. Wandering around the Physic Garden at Chelsea the other day, I was surprised to see that their many mints seem to be planted perilously close together, yet on closer inspection spotted that they are actually planted in individual pots, each sunk so deep into the ground as to be almost invisible. Had I done this at home, I wouldn't have spent quite so much time trying to untangle one variety from another. The mints now live in heavy, terracotta pots in the basement garden below the kitchen window, where their scent seems to get trapped on sunny afternoons. (It's a secret spot in which to have a cup of tea.) Crush the leaves as you cut sprigs for the kitchen and you could easily be in Morocco.For two years now the Moroccan variety has been happy enough in its large pot and in the last few weeks has sent up several new shoots, with scores of tiny, brilliant green leaves unfurling by the day. The spearmint, with its sweeter flavour, also continues to hold its own. Mint has always been a mainstay of my summer cooking. In generous amounts it can make a bowl of soporifically calming grain - couscous, rice, cracked wheat - suddenly vibrate with freshness. More than that, it has a certain mystery to it, and something ancient about it, too, especially when used in tea form as they do in the Middle East. Mint with lamb is often frowned upon by some of the more up-themselves foodies, and yet I can think of few more pleasing extras to serve on the side of a trio of lamb cutlets than a hollandaise sauce into which you have stirred freshly mashed mint leaves. On the other hand, a traditional clear mint sauce made with vinegar and the merest pinch of sugar with a roast shoulder is almost worth doing just to watch the food snobs' hackles rise. I love it, and would argue it is just perfect with peas and new potatoes. A tabbouleh made classically with soaked, cracked wheat needs parsley and lots of it, but I also like there to be more than half the quantity in fresh mint and much, much lemon juice. Stirring the mint in at the last minute will stop the chopped herb going black. Occasionally I have put tomatoes in there, too, seeded and cut into small pieces. Right now, I am making my tabbouleh with mangoes. Carbs suddenly seem more acceptable in summer when they have refreshing qualities stirred through them. Cucumber, watermelon or grated carrot and citrus fruit also work well. It is worth growing several mints if only for your wellbeing (crush a leaf and inhale and your mood will change in an instant). The wacky mints that smell of chocolate or pineapple don't really do it for me even if the chocolate one does have beautiful browny-red stems and smells of After Eights, but apple mint has a gentle almost Elizabethan charm. My favourites are the classic garden spearmint with its sharp, pointed leaves, eastern mint (Mentha longifolia subsp. schimperi) which is the green-grey, very fine-leaved variety, the one I use for tea. Moroccan mint is a good all-rounder, and if I had to choose just one then that would be it. The Bowles' variety has a very fine flavour indeed.