There's a jar of fines herbes sitting on the shelf, which I always mean to use, but when I take off the cover and take a whiff, the only thing I get is tarragon. This would be OK if I wanted tarragon, but fines herbes is supposed to be more than that. In its purest form, it's a combination of parsley, chives and tarragon, but my guess is French cooks doctor it with other herbs. Unlike many Americans, who tend to season as if they need a jolt of something strong to cover what's underneath, the French use herbs to quietly enhance the flavor of a dish.
Although I would never count myself as a French country cook, I'm pretty careful about what I add to a recipe. And so, whenever I've been tempted to sprinkle a pinch of supermarket fines herbes, I decide to go with my own blend of fresh parsley, dried rosemary and thyme.
All that changed when a friend gave me a cellophane packet of fines herbes she bought in Provence. In addition to little flecks of green, which smell like a balance of thyme and possibly sage or rosemary, there are tiny bits that might be lavender. One sniff and you understand why people go to France for the food.
I know cookbooks say fines herbes are for soups, eggs and cheese dishes, but when you have a seasoning so good, you become amazingly creative. I've been crumbling it over sauteed vegetables and chicken dishes and adding it to cream sauces and grain pilafs. I'm planning to use it in a pot of white bean soup and sprinkle it into a spaghetti frittata. Sooner, rather than later, it's going to run out and I'll go back to my parsley, thyme and rosemary routine. In the meantime, I'm feeling très chic.
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