Watch packages of curly parsley seeds fly off the stands this spring. According to foodies, the herb is the “in thing” this season.
Parsley was mentioned in Homer’s Ulysses, perhaps long ago as 1000 B.C. Calypso’s isle featured four streams bordered by soft meadows in which parsley flourished. Indeed its botanical name, Petroselinum, derives from Greek petros, rock, and the genus name Selinum, the plant originating from the Mediterranean region.
The Greeks of the classical era appear not so as to have eaten parsley but to have, like the Romans, placed bunches of the dining table to counter the effects of over-indulgence in vino. The funerary custom in Greece of scattering parsley on fresh graves gave rise to referring to those looking deathly ill as “to be in need only of parsley.”
In the case of parsley, however, the Romans failed in their usual adaptation of Greek practices and ate it with relish, often accompanied by lettuce.
According to Frederick Rosengarten (1973), parsley is said to have been introduced to England in 1548 from Sardinia, and mentioned some fifty years later by Shakespeare in
The Taming of the Shrew.
Parsley is surrounded with superstitious beliefs. Roy Vickery in his
A Dictionary of Plant Lore (1995) writes there are possibly more beliefs than any other plant with the possible exception of apple. There appears to be general agreement on the following:
- Seed germinates slowly because the roots have to go down to the devil up again
- Should always be sown on Good Friday
- It is extremely unlucky to transplant parsley
- Parsley only grows where the wife is the boss
- Bring calamity upon an enemy by pulling a stem while muttering their name
“Parsley cannot be surpassed for its versatility in the kitchen,” says Richters Herb Catalogue.” It underlines the flavour of foods without being dominant, and compliments almost every dish. Fresh green appearance and fragrant aroma delight the eye and stimulate the appetite.” But variety which is best?
There are three species of the biennial herb: the flat-leaf or Italian, Petroselinum crispum neapolitanum; the curled, wavy or crisped, Petroselinum crispum; and the Hamburg or root parsley, Petroselinum crispum tuberosum. The last need concern us no further as it is used as a vegetable rather than herb. The flat-leaf is, according to authorities, closest to the wild form. This is the parsley much favoured by culinary experts who have sneeringly dismissed the curled variety as fit only for WASP palates. After all, hell, it has been said, is where the police are German, the politicians French and the cooks English.
Ah, but wait! No less than
Canadian House & Home has declared curly parsley as a “hot” gourmet food item, notes Anne Kingston, in that icon of Canadian culture, the weekly
Maclean’s magazine. Curly parsley has long been a joke in the food world, says Claire Tansey, Canadian House & Home’s food editor, herself only a recent convert.
It is everything the gourmet could look for: attractive, deep green, crisp and, as it ages, full flavoured without harsh after notes. Regrettably, one thing it will not do is remove bad odours from one’s breath. Despite many a diner noshing into the sprig of parsley decorating the plate after a hearty meal replete with garlic, it is simply yet another unsupported folklore.
Researchers who have looked into this particular folk remedy have found little evidence that it works, says Anahad O’Connor of
The New York Times. “The Bottom Line: There is no evidence that parsley can counteract bad breath.”
Nevertheless, plant plenty, though, perhaps given the notoriously fickle Canadian climate not outside in the garden on Good Friday. Parsley seed, like that of all its relatives in the carrot family, Umbelliferae, requires prolonged moistening to remove growth retardants from the seed coat. Soak overnight between sheets of wet paper towel prior to sowing. Indoors, this can be accomplished in peat pellets (Jiffy 7s); outside in full sun or light shade. It makes a splendid edging in front of a row of chives.
“I have rows upon rows of delightful possibilities,” wrote Lucy Maud Montgomery, Journal, The Manse in Leaksdale, Ontario on 10 June 1924, listing, “corn, cucumbers, poppies, gypsophila, cosmos, peas, asters, gladioli, beans, sweet peas, parsnips, sweet sultans, radishes, balsams, zinnias, beets, carrots, pansies, egg plant, parsley, nasturtiums, watermelons, lettuce, onions, cabbages, cauliflowers and tomatoes” – note the only herb was parsley. “I prowl about, weeding, watering, transplanting,” she concluded.
