Hermitcraft: Mint

Inexplicably growing in a field

A great blessing of summer is the bounty of wild mint that appears during this season in most parts of the world. Various Menthe species are native to virtually every place on earth, and owing to their pleasant fragrance and flavour, exotics too have been introduced alongside them. And because they grow exuberantly, they tend to take the highway.

And I do mean highway, since roadsides are the most common place to find them. Second are the banks of lakes, rivers, and streams. (In fact, roadside mints are usually growing in the ditch there.)

That said, I'm constantly amazed to find mint in the most unlikely places, such as open fields or forest clearings, for no evident reason. As a hiker, biker, and forager, I'm forever stumbling across it.

Because they cross-pollinate promiscuously, no two colonies of wild mint are alike. And that makes each discovery a new resource with its own nuanced taste; more useful for some things, less for others.

And so every clump is worth cataloguing and revisiting as need dictates.

I mostly use my mints in tea, either alone, as the entire teastock; as a mixing ingredient in herbal blends; an amendment for hot black or green tea; or – my personal favourite – an anchor ingredient for sunshine tea.

It's also delicious in fruit drinks, particularly lemonade. I have a vivid memory of painting a house one summer in my university years, where a riotous patch of tall, large-leaved peppermint had overtaken one of the flower beds. I'd show up early in the morning with a vacuum jug of well-iced lemonade, into which I would stuff a fistful of this mint, after first bruising it by rolling the bunch between my palms. Then I'd ditch the jug in a cool dark recess and paint away. By lunch time – a good three or four hours later – I had as much of the most delicious lemonade I've ever tasted as I could drink. It made working through the hottest part of an August afternoon almost pleasurable.

But even that wasn't as potent as it might have got. I've since seen Middle Eastern recipes that are basically a paste of pureed mint and ground ice, suspended in pungent, whole-lemon Arab lemonade. I haven't tried this yet, but it sounds brilliant.

The Arabs really know how to take the edge off a stiffling day.

Mint also makes interesting sauces, vinegars, wine and cordials, and jelly, and can be used as an accent in salads. Lebanese tabbouleh – a go-to dog-day dish for me – amounts to a blend of cold bulgur or couscous, tomatoes, onion, and mint, served chilled. Really fine barbecue fare.

For all of the above you're best off with fresh mint, but it also dries famously and isn't bad like that in hot drinks, though the flavour fades after six months. Mint-enhanced cocoa is particularly nice on winter days.

So keep your eye out for wild mints along the way as you go about your summer peregrinations. It's a timely asset.