SAVORY HERBS AT YOUR OWN DOORSTEP 
ALDIS DUNBAR 
“Greens” the Year Through on a 4 x 8 ft. Kitchen Plot 
f s sPP^|N MARKETS, nowadays, one very seldom finds at 
either grocery or vegetable stall the bunch of savory 
Ejp “soup greens” that was once as much a regular item 
fflosl of the vendor’s stock in trade as Cabbages or Potatoes. 
With its sprigs of fresh Parsley and crisp Celery (the latter often 
with a bit of the root included), a couple of Leeks and Carrots, 
three or four slender young Onions, and—in the Philadelphia 
markets of my childhood—several stalks of sweet herbs, Mar¬ 
joram or Thyme or Savory, as well, it provided enough season¬ 
ing for an appetizing soup, a ragout and a stew, or for “ stuffing” 
for roast fowl. But in these days one must generally buy 
at least a few cents worth of each of these “greens,” instead 
of the old five-cent bunch; and frequently part of each purchase 
will wilt or wither before all has been used. 
The question is how to have just enough of such indispensable 
green seasonings, and no more, and to have them fresh and crisp 
at the exact moment when they are needed, without an especial 
trip to the grocery, and without waste? The answer found by 
one small-city housewife is the kitchen-door plot--convenient, a 
very present help to efficient and economically toothsome cook¬ 
ing, close at hand in all weathers, and suggesting by its very 
presence the appetizing savors that would otherwise depend on 
whether a bit of this and a trifle of that could be had in time 
from the grocery. 
E XCEPT for those condemned to dwell in apartment houses, 
or where tiny paved yards are the only rule, a plot four 
feet by eight or ten, for example (though the shape matters 
little), can be made possible with even a little ambition and 
determination. Once well started, it requires the minimum of 
hard work; indeed, almost cares for itself. The ideal situation 
for it would have a sunny exposure, and would be so close to the 
kitchen door itself that one could run out in the rain, if need be, 
for last-minute sprays of Parsley for garnishing, or for Chives 
for salad. The earth for it should be well and deeply spaded 
up, and should be given a “square meal” of fertilizer of some 
sort. A good bordering for it would be one of bricks, set end 
to end around the outer edge, and sunk one third in the 
ground. 
If near a city market where farmers and market-gardeners 
bring produce and sell direct to consumers, plants of Celery, 
Parsley, and Chives can almost always be arranged for with 
some kindly farm woman who raises her own, should they not 
readily be found on sale. If this be impossible, the choice 
lies between getting plants from some nursery garden, direct 
or by mail, or starting one’s own in a “ flat ” or seed box, indoors, 
some six weeks before frost is gone and outdoor gardening be¬ 
comes possible. So few plants are needed of each sort, that a 
shallow box measuring fourteen by twenty-four inches will 
hold enough seedlings to stock a fair-sized plot. And so little 
seed of each variety will provide them that several “plotters” 
can share the five dr ten cent packets, making the initial cost 
hardly more than that of a couple of bunches of the 
discouraged looking Parsley sold in the average 
city grocery, when it is to be found there at all. 
W HAT to plant? In my own original door-plot 
there was a row of half a dozen Celery plants, 
a four-foot row of Parsley, another of Chives (tak¬ 
ing the place of Onions), a 
few plants each of Thyme, 
Sweet Marjoram, and Summer 
Savory. One of Sage could be 
added, if that flavor be not 
too rank for the family palate. Sage plants are sold by 
seedsmen, and live year after year. 1 had also a few plants 
of Lettuce, putting in a tiny pinch of seed every ten days, 
for succession, and would have had a row of Carrots as 
well, just inside the brick border, but that those had already 
been sown as border for a flower-bed, where their feathery 
green tops give an unfailing supply of finely cut foliage to 
combine with scarlet Nasturtiums and other garden posies, 
without affecting the growth of the roots. 
Parsley suggests itself first, for flavoring as well as for dainty 
garnishing. The seed is slow in sprouting, so should be soaked 
overnight in warm water before planting. Even then, it 
often takes four weeks to show its first seed-leaves. In the 
North it seldom goes to seed the first season, and if given some 
slight protection of boughs and leaves, it will not only keep 
green and fresh under the snow, for occasional winter use, but 
will start up again in spring. The second year’s growth is apt 
to be coarser and stronger, but it serves finely to “tide over” 
until the new seedlings make their appearance. 
Celery and the sweet herbs desired (which can all be dried for 
the winter’s needs when the outdoor season is over) should be 
started soon after Parsley. A single root of Sage will generally 
suffice for a family. Chives can be grown from seed, but it is 
slow work, and a “clump” bought outright, divided, and set 
out, will multiply itself, year after year. It has the tiniest possi¬ 
ble bulb-roots, which can be used to border the plot. They 
are not pulled up for use, as only the tops, cut off as needed 
and chopped fine, are to be used in seasoning soups, salads, 
stews, or mixed through cottage cheese. Chives have a light 
purple blossom in spring, but the flower stems are tough and 
woody, and should be taken off promptly, as near the ground 
as possible. 
Out of curiosity, one root of Tarragon (the French Estragon) 
was ordered with other plants, and it proved well worth while. 
Its tender tips, cut fine, are delicious in omelet, in meat salads, 
and in tomato-and-egg salads, but it should be used with dis¬ 
crimination, the flavor being distinctive, and unlike other 
herbs familiar in American kitchens. Not wishing to keep the 
plant over winter indoors, and supposing it to be a “ tender 
perennial,” unequal to enduring the winter, I stripped the leaves 
from it in late October, putting them in a pint bottle of good 
cider vinegar. I n a few weeks, this was “ tarragon vinegar,” far 
superior to the imported, and so strong that only a few drops 
at a time could be used, diluted with unflavored vinegar. The 
plant, left out in the garden with no shelter save a few blown 
Maple leaves, has lived through two twelve-below-zero Mass¬ 
achusetts winters, among Berkshire hills, making strong growth 
during the intervening summers; and now, in its third year, is 
nearly three feet high, and is showing tiny florets on its tips. 
Chervil—also dear to French chefs—was tried one summer, 
but its flavor bore so close a resemblance to that of Tarragon 
that it seemed hardly worth while to add it to the list. It has a 
finely cut leaf, resembling that of garden Cress or 
Pepper-grass, whereas Tarragon has a long, narrow 
leaf. 
With the ordinary care that one would give to 
annual flowers, success with a bed such as has been 
described is sure; and for one who looks forward to 
having a real garden some day, and to enjoying 
fresh-picked home-grown vege¬ 
tables, no better initiation and 
practice can be had than just the 
few daily minutes spent on a little 
kitchen-door plot. 
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