With its alluring, downy, grey-green leaves and lingering depth of flavour, it's hard to resist the pungent appeal of sage. Along with parsley, it's perhaps the herb we've leant on most heavily in English cookery to give a savoury punch to stews, sausages and stuffings. Long before our dalliance withbasil, coriander and chervil, sage stole our hearts and starred in some of our favourite dishes.
Or did it? Elizabeth David is prettydamning in Summer Cooking: "Of that very English herb sage Ihave very little to say except that… it seems to me to be altogether too blatant, and used far too much; its all-pervading presence in stuffings and sausages is perhaps responsible for the distaste for herbs which many English people feel." She liked the dried stuff even less: "It deadens the food with its musty, dried blood scent." Oh dear. That qualifies as arant, doesn't it?
If ED's main problem was the dried packet mix for sage and onion stuffing – already ubiquitous by the 1960s, I suspect – then I'm with her. But I hope that in the 50-odd years since she wrote Summer Cooking, we've shrugged off any "distaste for herbs" in general and sage in particular. Certainly, it's famously good with pork, but it's very good with other rich meats, too, such as goose and duck, because its astringent oils help to cut through the fat.
Personally, though, I always think ofit as the offal herb. There are few better ways of cooking thin slices of lamb's or pig's liver than dusting them in flour seasoned with plenty of finely chopped sage, saltand pepper, then frying themquickly so the outside is seared and the middle pink, creamy and delicious. And there's my old favourite, brains with sage and caperbutter (I'll let you off the brains and give you a lovely pasta dish instead). Sage adds savour to potatoes and doughy dishes, too – potato cakes, bready stuffings, dumplings and today's cheese scones.
The more delicate pineapple and blackcurrant sages are aptly named – they really do carry the scent of those fruits. They're good with robust fish such as bream, bass andgurnard, and their flowers look and taste very good in salads of either the savoury and/or citrussy kind. They're also a tasty addition tofruity jams and jellies, and you can simply infuse a small handful offlowers and leaves in boiling water for an invigorating tea.
The sages are a more sober, savoury, punchy branch of the mint family, and native to the Mediterranean. The name comes from the Latin salvere, to be in good health, and it has certainly had all kinds of miraculous properties ascribed to it over the centuries – itwas said to mend everything from arthritis to sore throats and poor memory. In its oldest sense, to be "sage" is to have the knowledge or power of healing.
The Romans considered it sacred and gathered it with no small amount of ceremony, and everyone from Celtic druids to Native Americans has burned it in mystical purifying ceremonies. From medieval times inEngland, we sipped sage tea and brewed sage ale, used it to flavour cheeses and meats (its antibacterial properties were used to help preserve meat in pre-refrigeration days). By the 17th century, so widespread was its appeal that Dutch traders exchanged the precious herb with Chinese merchants in the ratio of a pound ofsage to three pounds of tea.
In the garden, sage is a pretty undemanding perennial herb. It's hardy in all but the worst of winters, and will grow up to about 80cm tall. Plant it in well-drained soil in a sunny spot or in a large pot, keep chopping away at it for the kitchen and cut it back after flowering to encourage tender young leaf growth (they're a bit less pungent). Even with regular cutting back, sage can become woody after a while, so needs replacing every four to five years. Many varieties grow easily from seed, or take softwood cuttings in late spring/early summer from strong new growth. Failing that, replacement plants in small pots areinexpensive and easy to find inalmost any garden centre.
Common sage, Salvia officinalis, is the type I use most often, but you'll find dozens of others in any nursery that's long on herbs. Somelook so wonderful, it would be a shame not to grow them for that reason alone. The purple and variegated ones (S.tricolore, with cream edges and pink-tinged leaves, and S. icterina, with lime-green and gold leaves) are milder and slightly more tender than S.officinalis. Frankly, any sage you like the look and smell of is worth ago in the garden.
So, grow some, chop some, cooksome, eat some – I hope you'lldo all you can to increase theirpervading presence. Don't let Elizabeth David talk you out of it.
Green beans with sage and pancetta
Sage is a great companion to pancetta, bacon and pretty much anything porky. Serves four as asidedish.
400g green beans, tailed
20g butter
200g pancetta, cut into small cubes
20 sage leaves, 8 finely shredded, 12left whole
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 tbsp olive oil (or rapeseed oil)
Bring a pan of salted water to a boil. Cook the beans until just al dente, about four minutes, then drain.
While the beans are cooking, warm the butter in a large frying panand sauté the pancetta until itbegins to take on some colour. Add the shredded sage leaves and fry for another minute. Tip in the beans, season, and give everything agood stir. Keep warm.
In a small frying pan, warm the oilover a medium-high heat. Sauté the whole sage leaves for a few seconds until crisp, scatter over the beans and pancetta, and serve.
Pasta with brown butter, sage and capers
A great quick supper. You can makethis with dried pasta, but Ithink it works better with fresh. Frying the flowerbuds, too, adds even moreflavour and texture. Serves four.
500g fresh egg pasta
80g butter
10-12 sage leaves, plus any small flower buds, if possible
2 tbsp capers, rinsed
Juice of ½ lemon
30g grated parmesan, plus more forserving
Freshly ground black pepper
Bring a large pan of salted water to aboil and cook the pasta according to the packet instructions.
Meanwhile, melt the butter in alarge frying pan (ideally not one with a dark interior) and cook until it turns a rich, golden brown and begins to smell nutty andsweet. Add the sage leaves – andbuds, if you have them – and capers, and remove from heat. Stir inthe lemonjuice. Drain the pasta, reserving some cooking water. Tip the pasta into thebutter pan, along with asplash of the cooking liquid, and return to the heat. Add the cheese and a few grinds of pepper, toss to coat and serve at once.
Sage and cheddar scones
These are quick to throw together for a tasty, savoury treat at teatime. Makes about eight scones.
300g self-raising flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp English mustard powder
½ tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
Freshly ground black pepper
110g unsalted butter, chilled and cutinto small cubes
3 tbsp finely shredded sage
120g strong cheddar, plus 30g more for the top, coarsely grated
200ml buttermilk, well shaken, plus a little more for brushing
Heat the oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6. Sift the flour, baking powder,mustard powder, salt, sugarand five or six grinds of black pepper into alarge mixing bowl. Add the butter and, using your fingertips, rub it intothe flour untilthe mixture lookslike coarse breadcrumbs (or just dump the whole lot into a food processor andpulse to combine).
Tip in the sage and grated cheddar, and stir in well. Using a knife, stir in the buttermilk until you have a slightly sticky, rough mass of dough. You may not need allthe buttermilk, or you may needa tablespoon more.
Turn out the dough on to a lightly floured work surface and press it gently into a round about 2cm thick. Dip a 5-6cm pastry cutter in flour and use this to cut out as many scones from the dough round as possible. Gather up all the dough trimmings, gently press them together, then flatten into another 2cm-thick round and cut out more scones. Repeat until you have used up all the dough.
Sprinkle a nonstick baking sheet with flour and arrange the scones onit. Brush the tops with buttermilk, scatter on the remaining grated cheese and bake until goldenand puffed up – about 12-15 minutes. Serve warm, split, with plenty of butter.
