Shy chervil

11/21/2008
Shy chervil

Chervil (Anthriscus cerefolium) is an unassuming little herb.  Subtler and less sharp in flavor than parsley, chervil has thin, ferny, silky leaves that are much softer in the mouth than parsley's as well.  In fact, except that they are both members of the umbillifer family, chervil and parsley have nothing in common beyond a vague physical resemblance. 

Back when I was gardening and cooking in the Midwest, I confess I never really "got" chervil.  I grew it (I tried everything at least once), but in the kitchen I couldn't quite place its soft, anisey scent.  I couldn't figure out what to do  wth it and I wasn't sure I even liked its flavor.  To boot, American cookbooks almost never call for it.

Maybe it's a cultural thing.  It seems I had to move to France for chervil to suddenly become one of my indispensable herbs.  (I underwent a similar transformation of habit with shallots and leeks.)  The fact that branches of chervil are part of many greengrocers' mesclun salad mix might have gotten me to appreciate its soft, nonfibrous texture and above all its nearly ethereal taste.  While most herbs have strong flavors (that's what makes them herbs), the taste of chervil is least assertive.  It's a gentle mix of hints of fennel, scents of anise, and a mysterious floral note in the background.

Chervil in the kitchen.  The flavor of chervil makes it the perfect, last-minute green-herb garnish for all fennel dishes, cooked and raw.  Fennel is but a vegetable variant of a strong-flavored herb itself, so it's difficult to garnish with a fresh herb.  Even parsley clashes with fennel.  But not chervil, whose gentle flavor echoes and gently marries with that of fennel.  And its delicate ferny leaflets look beautiful against the fennel's pale green.

Chervil is also the ideal last-minute fillip for fish--especially delicate poached or baked fish.  And finally, chervil is indispensable in an omelette aux fines herbes.  In fact, chervil is the very embodiment of a fine herbe.  And, oh--when you make a ragout of tiny delicate spring vegetables from your garden, only chervil will do as a garnish.

Of course, these aren't the only uses for chervil.  It also marries beautifully with steamed potatoes, where it is much less harsh in flavor than dill, and it's delicous with carrots.  Once you get to know chervil, you'll figure out your own favorite pairings.

Above all, chervil is a gardener's herb.  Why?  Because once cut, it has an incredibly short life-span.  That's why (besides the fact that few people would buy it) you almost never see it in supermarkets.  Even chervil cut fresh from the garden starts turning yellow in the refrigerator within 3 days or so.  Ultimately, it will turn white before beginning to actually decompose.  I can only guess that chervil has a particularly fragile form of chlorophyll that quickly breaks down in the dark.  In fact, the best way to keep chervil fresh a bit longer is to put it in a glass of water on a windowsill.

Growing chervil.  For all its post-harvest fragility, chervil is easy and almost rugged in the garden.  Just one caveat:  you must give it well-drained, rich soil.  Notice the emphasis on "well-drained."  Chervil simply can't stand soggy clay.  That said, it's a much stronger and faster germinator than parsley.  It's long, spiky seeds usually sprout within a week from planting.  Chervil likes full sun, but in hot regions appreciates afternoon shade.  Thin the plants to about 4 inches apart, and keep them well watered.  The least bit of stress will cause chervil to bolt.

In all regions of the country, you can plant chervil as early in spring as the ground can be worked.  Gardeners in Zones 7 and southward can sow a second crop in August or September.  Chervil thrives in cool weather, and in mild areas will grow all through the winter.  Overwintered plants will quickly bold once the days start lengthening.  You can let a few go to seed and harvest it to start your next crop.  Or, just ignore it.  It will almost certainly self-sow, and all you'll need to do is not mistake its seedlings for those of weeds.

Obviously it's best to cut chervil right before using it.  Don't bother drying it.  Although dried chervil is usually part of the standard supermarket herb and spice rack (in fact, that's usually the only spot you'll find chervil in the supermarket), it has practically no taste.  And chervil is too fragile--both in texture and flavor--to freeze.  However, it's superbly easy to grow in a windowsill flowerpot.  I recommend you grow your winter supply that way if you live in a cold region.

Finally, when the time comes to pull spent plants out of the garden, don't throw out those fleshy roots!  They make a delicious addition to soups and stocks.

Other chervils.  A close relative of common garden chervil grows wild along woodland edges of much of the northern United States.  Known as sweet cicely, Myrrhis odorata is a hardy perennial with similarly ferny foliage and diminuitive white flower umbels followed by long, black seeds.  Its foliage is only slightly aromatic, but the seeds are strongly flavored and can be used as a curiosity in the kitchen. 

Tuberous chervil (Chaerophyllum bulbosum) is what the French call un légume oublié (a forgotten vegetable).  This plant, which produces a fat, stubby, fleshy taproot, was much more widely grown in medieval times than now.  The roots are cooked like carrots and have a delicioius, delicate taste.  Don't pass up the chance to grow it if you can, but plant the seed promptly as it loses viability very quickly.  Harvest the roots in the fall after the foliage starts to die down.  Tuberous chervil roots stored in sand in a root cellar actually improve in flavor with storage.

One more hint on chervil.  its delicate flavor can't stand up to cooking.  Always add it just before serving, so the heat of the dish will be just enough to intensify its ethereal flavor. While chervil's flavor is the shyest of all herbs', you needn't be shy about growing and using it in your kitchen!