"mint" news and stories

Love chocolate and mojitos? The two can come together for a delicious summer drink.

Mint is prized throughout the Mediterranean, used in honeyed desserts, sprinkled liberally on savory dishes and used to brew the sweetest tea. In Morocco, it's even used as an air freshener as locals stroll through the streets of the market place and stuff leaves unto their nostrils to block out strong odors.

One of my favorite Mediterranean flavor combos is mint and tomato, tossed together in a light, savory sauce for summer. I think most Americans might think basil is the end all when it comes to tomato sauce, but in Southern Italian cooking mint is used liberally. I remember cooking swordfish in a fish basics class in culinary school. It had a perky tomato sauce with paper-thin slices of garlic, 'GoodFellas' style. We added a big fresh bunch of mint, chopped, to a sauce that had bubbling hot cherry tomatoes popping open in the skillet.

Get Jennifer's recipe for Spaghetti with Mint Leaves after the jump.

There's nothing quite like the crisp flavor of fresh mint, but in a pinch, there are substitutions.

With Derby Day racing round the bend and summer hot on its tail, it's mint julep time. Considering the current rage for infusing one's booze, it's only natural to combine bourbon with mint before the two even hit a glass.

Some folks just toss the two together, steeping a few handfuls of leaves in a glass jar. Here's a slightly more precise recipe: Combine about 2 cups loosely packed mint leaves with 3 cups of bourbon, cap tightly and let sit for 4 to 5 days. If short on time, steep overnight (though another cupful of leaves will be necessary -- perhaps more if a very minty taste is desired). Once the liquor is infused, it's a quick jump to mint julep time: Just mix with simple syrup and pour over crushed ice, no messy muddling required. Some prefer to combine liquor, mint and sugar for an all-in-one infusion, but this mint-only rendition allows more flexibility for various levels of sweet tooths. The concoction also makes for a fine Jack n' Ginger (be wary of bourbon purists!), or an excellent Manhattan.

As soon as I hear the word "mint," my ears perk up. The dish could be green, white, orange, purple, or red -- I wouldn't care. (I might be intrigued why a mint dish was orange, purple, or red, but it wouldn't necessarily deter me.) But it seems some people do.

Over at the Accidental Hedonist, Kate Hopkins recently posted about the world of green food coloring and mint. While mint oil might be clear, we've all seen the waves of green that are often linked to the flavor. But why? In a discussion with a representative from Rogers' Chocolate, she learned that at least in their world, sales dictate the green = mint philosophy. When Rogers' offered a regular mint ice cream without food coloring, the sales were okay. When they colored it green -- "sales for their mint ice cream increased twenty-fold."

Is the world overrun by leprechauns? I could see green ice cream behing handy for St. Patrick's Day, but would you really ignore a mint-flavored product if it wasn't green?