GARDEN FRESH : Trouble-Free Beauty

Glancing around the garden, I sometimes think that sages must be the most handsome of all herbs. Flowers can be tiny scarlet trumpets, a tumble of China-pink bells, sprays of purple--long as your arm. Leaves range from woolly white through crinkly pale blue, half a dozen shades of gray and green, tinges of bronze and smoldering purple to swirls of creamy purple and green.

But if I had room in my garden for just one sage, it would have to be the plant whose finely pebbled leaves are soft-green splotched with cream, sunshine yellow and teal blue--and delectable. Golden sage.

Surprisingly, golden sage wouldn’t give your garden any flowers. Occasionally in nature, plants shift their energies away from flowering to something else. Garlic has done this, remember; it must be an exhausting process, splitting into all those small cloves and wrapping them individually. And so the force of golden sage’s creativity seems to be poured into its glorious leaves.

What golden sage gives the garden in place of flowers is unflagging brilliance. A hardy evergreen perennial (it will withstand cold to minus 30 degrees), our golden sage never looks ragged, never dies back. I can put my hand through the snow where I know it lies and pluck as many leaves as I need. That means I never have to think about when to pick them for drying, since there’s a year-round supply.

The books say golden sage grows to 18 to 24 inches tall. (More like 12 inches, on the mountain where I live.) As for their spread, they’ll take whatever they can get.

In the days when I was in a hurry to get my garden established here, I paid no attention to details such as ultimate size. The little sage plant I bought was all of a half a dozen leaves in a three-inch pot. I carved out a hole with a trowel in decomposed granite (good drainage, but not a wisp of organic matter) and stuck it in. It was at the top of a bank, at the western edge of our main bed, in full sun. Now it’s a shimmering mantle billowing four feet down the slope, floating a foot above the ground.

*

And some books say sage needs moist soil. No way. The soil of all my sages dries out plenty between waterings. Perhaps the plants would be more lush with more water, but they don’t need to be and, of course, water’s been scarce. Actually, sage--a native of the dry stony soils of Spain, the Balkans and Asia Minor--has drought tolerance in its genes.

Culinary sages are carefree--in every way. Maybe once or twice a year I get around to showering the whole garden with fish or kelp emulsion, but that’s all the mollycoddling they get. My golden sage has never had a bug nibble at it, and, for a mercy, the resident mountain voles, chipmunks, gophers, tree squirrels and ground squirrels have shown no interest in its leaves or roots.

If you have no place for sage in the garden, it will be happy as a clam in a pot. You’ll end up needing a 12--inch pot; just remember, always let the roots fill the container before you move it to the next size. A light potting mix is ideal. You’ll learn to give it water by feel--keep it moist at first, until it’s used to its new home, then gradually let it dry out between thorough waterings. I have all sorts of sages in pots, and they are as undemanding--and as decorative--there as in the ground.

And what does this remarkable herb taste like? Golden sage is an aspect of common sage, whose leaves have elevated bread stuffing above its stale beginnings as long as any of us can remember. The flavors of the two sages are similar. But just as common sage’s leaves are plain gray-green, so its flavor is utterly straightforward. It may be my imagination, but the taste of golden sage seems warmer, deeper, more complex, haunting. The two sages are like sisters, one merely lovely, the other unnerving.

I make the most exquisite tisane of all with golden sage leaves. I tear a small handful of leaves into a cup, pour on boiling water, clap the saucer on top, upside down, then let it steep five minutes. Revealed, the hue ranges from golden to gold-green; magnified colors at the bottom of my cup that make me sip with my eyes open. But unlike the plain leaves of common sage, which are so frequently chopped and sprinkled into a dish, I realize what I’ve felt about golden sage: “I can’t touch that--it’s too beautiful.”

*

And so I set about composing an appreciation to both the pattern and flavor of the leaves of golden sage. To share in it, your shrub will have to be established, since it calls for an abundance of leaves. It’s an elegant presentation for a small dinner party.

But if you haven’t a big shrub, why not appreciate golden sage--just the two of you? Or one? Better.

Sources:

Fresh--At a farmers market, if potted herbs are for sale, ask whether they have golden sage at home. Or ask a nursery to order Salvia officinalis “Aurea.”

By mail--Sandy Mush Herb Nursery, Route 2, Surrett Cove Road, Leicester, N.C. 28748. Enclose $4, and you’ll receive their catalogue, which offers, among other treasures, a thrilling selection of sages.

*

Make this for someone who will appreciate the marbling of leaves beneath the translucent skin and notice that the green-gold of the sprigs is reflected in the leeks. In place of golden sage leaves, substitute fresh leaves of any kind of sage--or any other herb with colorful leaves, such as one of the purple-blue basils. (If there are no colorful leaves available, the long, slender leaves of tarragon are dramatic in their way; but unless they’re quite large, you’ll probably need one-fourth more of them.) Unfortunately, dried leaves won’t work.

An attractive way to serve is to set the hen with the sprig of sage at the top of each guest’s plate with the rice heaped to either side of the bird and half the leeks (or other vegetable) laid to either side upon the rice. Serve a Pinot Noir, a crisp salad to follow, and for dessert, crunchy meringue cookies and brightly colored strawberry ice decorated with candied violets. And after such an aesthetic meal, your further reward will be leftover poaching broth for making luscious pasta in brodo.

*

GOLDEN SAGE CORNISH HENS

4 (1 1/4-pound) Cornish hens 48 whole golden sage leaves 1 1/2 cups beef broth 10 cups chicken broth Freshly ground white pepper Salt

16 whole slender young leeks, rootlets trimmed, leaves cut slightly shorter than hens (in season, substitute 24 slender asparagus stalks, 1 pound slender wax beans or any other long, green-gold vegetable)

*

Golden Sage Rice

4 sprigs golden sage, each with 8 or more leaves, for garnish Fresh Mushroom Sauce

Thaw hens in wrappers overnight in refrigerator or in pot of cool water. Unwrap hens. Turn giblets into saucepan, cover amply with cold water, bring to boil and simmer broth down to 1 cup. Reserve giblet broth for Fresh Mushroom Sauce.

Rinse hens inside and out and pat dry. From neck end, slip thumb between skin and flesh and gently free skin all around bird. Use forefinger around legs. Work carefully to keep skin from tearing. Leave skin at cavity end attached.

Arrange hens on work surface, breast side up. Tuck 1 sage leaf, pattern side up, beneath skin on top side of each leg. Arrange 2 leaves down each side of breast and 1 leaf down center in same way. Turn hens over and arrange 5 leaves under skin of back. Truss birds with kitchen cotton string, crossing wings under back and securing loose skin. (If desired, wrap and refrigerate until cooking time. Then remove to room temperature 1 hour before cooking.)

Put birds into 1 or 2 deep heavy saucepans in which they fit snugly. Pour over chicken and beef broths (divided equally, if using 2 pots), then add enough water to cover birds. Season to taste with white pepper and salt. Remove birds. Bring broth to simmer. Drop in hens, bottom side up, cover, return to simmer and adjust heat to maintain bare simmer. Set timer for 20 minutes (at high altitude, 24 minutes).

Flush leeks in running water and steam until tender-crisp, 6 to 8 minutes. Turn into hot serving dish, cover and keep warm.

When timer rings, test hens for doneness: Meat thermometer thrust into thigh should read 190 degrees, juices should run clear (not pink) when thigh is pierced with thin skewer. Remove at once from burner.

Spread Golden Sage Rice on hot serving platter. Lift birds from broth with cooking fork thrust into cavity. Drain well, then arrange hens, breast side up on rice. Snip and remove strings. Garnish by tucking sage sprig at tip of crossed legs. Ladle spoonful Fresh Mushroom Sauce over each hen. Garnish with mushrooms. Adjust seasonings to taste. Makes 4 servings.

Each serving, with rice and sauce, contains about:

1,159 calories; 3,109 mg sodium; 178 mg cholesterol; 43 grams fat; 121 grams carbohydrates; 68 grams protein; 4.92 grams fiber.

*

Golden Sage Rice

1/2 large white onion, finely chopped 2 cups Thai jasmine, white basmati or American long-grain rice, rinsed 1 cup beef broth 1 cup chicken broth 1 2/3 cups water 1/4 cup chopped golden sage leaves, chopped medium-fine so that color contrast is preserved Freshly ground white pepper Salt

In large, heavy saucepan, saute onion without fat over medium-high heat, stirring frequently, until tender, about 3 minutes. Add rice. Stir 1 minute, then stir in beef broth, chicken broth, water (if using American long-grain rice, increase water to 2 cups) and 1 tablespoon chopped sage.

Bring to boil over high heat, turn heat to lowest, cover tightly with heavy lid and simmer 10 minutes. Turn off heat and finish steaming undisturbed 10 minutes. (If using American long-grain rice, simmer steadily 20 minutes.)

In heavy pot, rice will stay hot 30 minutes to 1 hour. Or keep warm in low oven until needed. Just before serving, stir in remaining sage leaves. Season to taste with white pepper and salt.

*

Fresh Mushroom Sauce

1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced 1 clove garlic, peeled and finely chopped 2 tablespoons butter 3 tablespoons flour 1 cup giblet broth 1 1/4 cups reserved poaching broth 1 tablespoon chopped golden sage leaves Salt Freshly ground pepper

In small heavy non-stick skillet, saute mushrooms and garlic without fat over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned. Remove skillet from heat.

In heavy medium-size saucepan, melt butter, whisk in flour, turn heat to lowest and cook 2 minutes, whisking occasionally to prevent browning. Remove from heat, slowly add giblet broth and poaching broth, whisking until smooth after each addition. (Since hens are nearly done at this point, they can spare enough poaching broth to make sauce.) Add mushrooms and chopped sage. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Return sauce to medium heat and bring to simmer, stirring once or twice. Turn into hot serving pitcher or bowl and keep warm. Makes about 3 cups.