Home accessories: Day 1 of Lavender Week: Presented by The Novel Bakers

You're Cordially Invited to Join the Novel Bakers for

Lavender Week

July 22 - July 28

Seven days of recipes, tablescapes, gardens, and more:

a quiet life,

Home Is Where the Boat Is,
Once Upon a Plate
Sidewalk Shoes

We'll be celebrating this whimsical herb, using a marvelous guide:

The Lavender Cookbook by Sharon Shipley.

Few people can resist a cookbook that opens with a confession:

"My love affair with lavender began in the Alpes-de-Haute in Provence on a warm June day back in 1992. Wandering high in the mountains above a little village, I came upon fields of purple lavender, carpeting the hillsides and filling the air with a sweet scent."

--page 12, The Lavender Cookbook

I have a confession, too.

I'd never cooked with lavender.

Ever.

I'd tried and failed to grow the herb on my bald, windy hilltop. When bushes died

(and they always did), I had trouble replacing them: it is a challenge

to find lavender plants, much less edible culinary buds, in my neck of the woods.

Little did I know that I would soon be knee-deep in lavender.

The first time I visited Rattlebridge Farm, I walked down the path,
skimming my hands over the bushes, and a pungent, clean smell enveloped me.

It was love at first breath.

"This house is all wrong for us," my husband said.

"But the air smells purple," I said. "Look at all of the honeybees. You can get skeps

or beehives."

"Already tried that," he said. "Got stung. Forget this house."

Months later, after much cajoling, we bought the house.
And for the first time in our lives, we were owned by a real garden.

I felt blessed--and scared.

Ask anyone, and they'll tell you that I'm the Death Angel to most plants.
How would I keep the lavender from curling up like witch's toes?

It wasn't like I wanted to eat it or anything. No, I just wanted to brush
against it and smell that glorious smell.

But I am slowly learning about this fragrant, versatile, hardy herb.

Day 1 of Lavender Week

I became a lavender enthusiast with the first recipe that I tested from The Lavender Cookbook;

I selected a peachy-lemony salad, balanced with bitter greens and a hint of lavender.

Though my husband likes to smell lavender, he isn't fond of consuming it. But he ate three helpings

of this salad. The lavender buds are finely ground (I bought a small coffee grinder for herbs), which contributes to the delicate, whispery flavor. You won't bite into a whole bud, which can be disconcerting to lavender virgins.

If you're looking for a salad that's fresh, cooling, aromatic--and unforgettable--this is it.

Imagine sweet peaches, a lemony zing, the surprise of ginger, and

the complexity of the greens--loud and quiet, zany and well-mannered.

And lavender, of course.

What did it taste like?

Lavender is a chameleon. The flavor (to me) depends upon the recipe.

But, the taste reminds me of sunlight and high summer. Dew on tall grasses.

A cool breeze rippling over a field of wild flowers.

And there's something else.

Something I cannot name.

If fairy dust had a flavor, it would be lavender.