LINARY HERBS

In these days of jaded appetites, condiments and canned goods, how
fondly we turn from the dreary monotony of the "dainty" menu to the
memory of the satisfying dishes of our mothers! What made us, like
Oliver Twist, ask for more? Were those flavors real, or was it
association and natural, youthful hunger that enticed us? Can we ever
forget them; or, what is more practical, can we again realize them? We
may find the secret and the answer in mother's garden. Let's peep in.

The garden, as in memory we view it, is not remarkable except for its
neatness and perhaps the mixing of flowers, fruits and vegetables as we
never see them jumbled on the table. Strawberries and onions, carrots
and currants, potatoes and poppies, apples and sweet corn and many other
as strange comrades, all grow together in mother's garden in the utmost
harmony.

[Illustration: Spading Fork]

All these are familiar friends; but what are those plants near the
kitchen? They are "mother's sweet herbs." We have never seen them on the
table. They never played leading roles such as those of the cabbage and
the potato. They are merely members of "the cast" which performed the
small but important parts in the production of the pleasing _tout
ensemble_--soup, stew, sauce, or salad--the remembrance of which, like
that of a well-staged and well-acted drama, lingers in the memory long
after the actors are forgotten.

[Illustration: Barrel Culture of Herbs]

Probably no culinary plants have during the last 50 years been so
neglected. Especially during the "ready-to-serve" food campaign of the
closed quarter century did they suffer most. But they are again coming
into their own. Few plants are so easily cultivated and prepared for
use. With the exception of the onion, none may be so effectively
employed and none may so completely transform the "left-over" as to
tempt an otherwise balky appetite to indulge in a second serving without
being urged to perform the homely duty of "eating it to save it."
Indeed, sweet herbs are, or should be the boon of the housewife, since
they make for both pleasure and economy. The soup may be made of the
most wholesome, nutritious and even costly materials; the fish may be
boiled or baked to perfection; the joint or the roast and the salad may
be otherwise faultless, but if they lack flavor they will surely fail
in their mission, and none of the neighbors will plot to steal the cook,
as they otherwise might did