I used to hate tarragon

Poor tarragon. For years, I associated the poor herb with a bossy ex-boyfriend who was impressed with anything French. He put it in every dish imaginable. Awful vegetable soup made from canned tomato juice and frozen corn got spruced up with generous pinches of tarragon. Innocent omelets were given shakes so healthy, they morphed into Green Eggs. Sandwiches that had been perfectly balanced got excessive sprinkles of the herb, knocking them off kilter.

It was too much to stand, in more ways than one. After months of hand-wringing about a relationship that had become drudgery on all fronts, I finally manned up and lowered the boom. The break-up was as clean as could be, but what ensued was like a blend of Fatal Attraction and Play Misty for Me, sans the blood. Eventually, the harassing phone calls and notes stopped, and I blamed myself more than I blamed him, but the episode left a foul taste in my mouth such that I swore off men – and tarragon – forever.

I got over the men thing quick enough, but tarragon was banished to a gloomy place in my spice cabinet, never to be called on again. If I happened to get a whiff or taste of it dining out, I would connect the strong, anise-flavor with my talent at picking the wrong men. It would make me gag. Years later, the gods intervened, and to everyone’s shock a handsome, funny guy with a job and without a checkered past came on the scene. We later married. But tarragon still remained on my culinary black list, along with random items like water chestnuts and a Georgia dish called Country Captain, two things I just plain didn’t like.

Now, tarragon is back. Call it time healing or me just letting go of my reckless past, but the vinaigrette of tarragon, shallots and lemon I had at a friend’s house recently effervesced with summery simplicity. A couple of weeks ago, Studio to Go sprinkled it on roasted sweet and white potatoes to my surprise and delight. The other day, I took the plunge and stuffed a chicken with fresh sprigs, a move that waked up the roast bird with new life.

Here’s a link to a handful of tarragon recipes. Like most herbs, it’s best used sparingly, and under the right circumstances.