I have a confession to make: I'm not sold on bay leaves. I'm not convinced they actually do much to change the flavor of a dish. We make a lot of lentils around here — and soups in the winter — and whenever I break out the bay leaves as instructed, I never notice a major change one way or another. 

Q: My mom, who is no longer here to ask, planted an herb a couple of years ago that I can't identify. It has a fresh scent and a flavor that I don't totally recognize. Can anyone help solve the mystery? 

Sent by Tessa

(Larger picture after the jump)

What do you collect when you travel? I have an acquisitive soul; linens and tiny ceramics and jewelry just happen to get squirreled away in my bags. But I've found that the best souvenirs of travel are the lightest to carry. When I travel, I look for new things to learn, like the soufflé I picked up in Paris, and the duck magret in Nice. My husband and I have also acquired cocktail recipes quite often in our travels, and I hardly need to tell you that these are my favorites. 

We just picked up a new one, a very summery cocktail from an unexpected place. It's a fizzy concoction of mint, lime, rum, and a hit of grapefruit from my favorite neon orange bottle. It's a little sweet, a little bitter, and totally, totally refreshing. This is my cocktail of the summer, folks. 

Tabbouleh is one of those dishes that lends itself towards improvisation, which is both a blessing and a curse. The blessing is that we can feel free to throw it together without a lot of stress and worry, which has resulted in many delicious, creative variations. The curse is that this kind of abandon can lead to the essence of an herb-intense tabbouleh getting lost. My favorite version of tabbouleh straddles tradition and innovation: it's heavy on the traditional herbs but brings the bulgur more forward as well. Here's how I make it!

Yesterday Cambria shared an interesting, slightly alarming New York Times article about the lack of nutrients in modern supermarket produce compared to their wilder, less domesticated ancestors. I'm choosing not to become depressed by this news and am focusing instead on the bright side: Fresh herbs, green onions and wilder greens like arugula are a great source of the nutrients bred out of many current produce varieties. Here are seven ways to eat these wildly nutritious, wildly tasty herbs and greens.

Want to jazz up your non-alcoholic drinks like sparkling water, iced tea, and lemonade? Add a sprig or two of aromatic rosemary. These five beverages are a little bit herbal, a little bit sweet, and very refreshing. 

Want to expand your horizons beyond the standard herbs like basil, rosemary, and mint? Here are 12 lesser-known herbs to try this spring and summer. Not all of them will be available in grocery stores, but you might find them at farmers' markets, growing in parks, or in your own garden if you're inspired to plant something new! 

Q: I love making homemade salsa, but when I buy cilantro, half the bunch always goes to waste. I use quite a bit in the salsa, but I just don't know what to do with the rest. Are there any good ways to use the rest up?

Sent by Whitney

Chiffonade is a very pretty word for the very simple process of slicing basil or any other delicate herb into very thin ribbons. The word sounds as light and airy as the spirals of basil themselves. A chiffonade of basil is also an easy way to add a bright touch of green — and the fresh taste of basil — to your spring and summer dishes. If this is technique is unfamiliar to you, this guide will take you through each step.

Last weekend I hosted a small dinner party in my apartment. (You'll hear all about it next week!) At the end of the meal I served a lemon verbena tisane — essentially, a handful of lemon verbena leaves steeped in hot-but-not-boiling water — with a splash of St. Germain. It was delicious: fresh, delicate, and cleansing, like spring in a teacup. As a result, lemon verbena may just be my new favorite herb. Here are 5 ways to use it: