taking tea

As if a lightening bolt had cleaved my head, in a Covent Garden's tea shop I had an epiphany. I’d always known I didn’t like the taste of tea but it wasn’t until the moment that I inhaled some fragrant blend that I understood my distaste for the drink went deeper than whimsy. As soon as those volatile oils hit my olfactory senses a searing pain went through my temple. I realised black tea and me could never be friends.

Having a similarly dislike for patchouli I could never be a hippy but developed a fondness from herbal teas in my teens. Around the time I discovered tofu - rosehips, hibiscus and lemongrass also came into my life. As a student in New Zealand living in draughty dank shared houses through endless winters, large pots of herbal tea got me through the darkest months.

Fortunately in London I lived in a house with vast jars of wholefoods in the cupboards, beancurd in the fridge and array of herbal teas. My pregnant housemate drunk buckets of raspberry leaf but there was almost every other herb under the sun on hand. But once out of the house there was a problem. I soon discovered that in the land of tea drinkers saying no to a cup of tea was just not on. A cup of the awful swill was an invitation to share a person’s company and refusal was tantamount to a slap in the face. It took a London friend to spell out this strange social ritual and come up with a solution that perhaps only a wacky Antipodean could get away with, for the next year I carried a supply of herbal tea bags with me so I could whip one out whenever the offer of tea arose.

British coffee, at home or in cafes, was so awful in the ‘80s that I gave it up. I had to go to France to get a decent cup!

These days most the herbs I drink are fresh from the garden. A handful of peppermint or lemon balm can be refreshingly cooling on a summer’s day. But in winter a rich, warm blend born in those chilly student houses comforts me to my core.

Hibiscus flowers dry to a deep crimson and are often used as a natural colour booster in tea blends and punches. They taste quite astringent with a citrusy edge. After infusing for a while the tea turns the deepest of reds, with an intense flavour. Like many red plant foods, scientists are turning to hibiscus as a possible source of antioxidants. The herb is a favourite in Egypt and most hibiscus tea on the market still originates from that country.

I’ve been asked to share my winter tea recipe and must admit that I'd never considered posting something so simple before. Quantities are to taste as each palate is different. The longer it infuses the deeper the flavour and it becomes quite a different drink. To see if you like it, make a decent sized pot of the blend and pour a small cup to sample every five minutes til you find the perfect drawing time for your desires.

As with all teas, quality is paramount. By organic herbs if possible but freshness is paramount. Always store dried herbs in an airtight jar and keep in a cool dark place. Heat and light are the enemies of flavour and old or poorly stored herbs can taste dull and dusty.

As for tea bags, keep them for emergencies only or when visiting Britain.

Winter warming tea

The combination of the acidity of the hibiscus and acridness of the ginger is mellowed by the natural sweetness of liquorice. The longer it is brewed the more tangy heat the ginger imparts.

2 parts dried hibiscus flower

1 part dried liquorice root

1 part fresh ginger root, finely sliced (of a pinch dried)

Warm your favourite teapot, add the herbs and cover generously with boiling water. Let it brew for at least 5 minutes.



What is your favourite herbal tea combination?


This post is part of Weekend Herb Blogging, hosted this week by Cheryl at Gluten Free Goodness. Incidentally my winter tea is gluten-free, sugar free and lactose free, unlike the black chewy confectionary also known as liquorice!

WHB #156 - mint

I wake to a bright Sunday morning. The early light streams into the lounge room and I find myself up at a ridiculously early hour (one that begins with 7) slavishly writing my morning pages, surrounded by three contented cats and the sound of birds singing. These spring days are golden. The weather is still unpredictable – with sunshine, thunder, lightening and hail all in the same week, or even day. But this time of year flecked with green is special, before summer gets you by the throat and the land becomes parched.

The garden is in flux. Today is the day we intend to rip out the last remnants of our winter vegetable bed (silverbeet will be on the menu tonight) and rebuild the soil to plant a few tomatoes and maybe strawberries after then next bout of hoped for rain. Most of my herbs are in pots these days, easier to keep the thirsty plants alive with the clean kitchen wastewater. The happiest with this frequent dampening routine is mint. With every watering it flourishes.



I love to drink fresh mint tea but don’t cook with it often. I relish mixing it into Asian salads, with coriander, Vietnamese mint and fish sauce. But with such an abundance of the herb I don’t use it nearly enough.

Morning writing finished, my rumbling tummy brings me back to the present, I know I need food, an appropriate first meal to honour the day. The fruit bowl represents the juxtaposition of seasons, winter apples and oranges meeting tropical mangoes and bananas. I dreamt last night of bananas growing in Wellington, not as they should do but on a vine instead. Not sure weather to blame fears of global warming or all the muffins I have been eating for that one. Regardless I take it as a sign that this herb, commonly regarded as a fruit, will feature in breakfast today.

To greet the new day I make a fruit salad featuring mint, toasted coconut and cashews. The mint gives it a taste of summer.

Trans-seasonal fruit salad
(Serves 2)

1 mango, diced
1 –2 bananas, sliced
1 pink lady apple, peeled, cored and diced
1 orange, skin removed sliced or in segments
1 handful of cashew nuts
1 handful of shredded coconut
fresh mint
lime juice

Prepare your fruit, feel free to vary the ingredients with what you have available, though the mango and banana work best with coconut.

Place a heavy bottomed pan on high heat and carefully toast the cashews, shaking the pan frequently til brown (you may notice that I hurried mine a little too much), remove the nuts and add the coconut. If the pan is still hot just swirl the shreds around off the heat and you will see them toast before your eyes, so be vigilant. Remove from the pan to ensure they don’t continue cooking.

Mix the fruit, coconut and cashews together in a bowl. Shred some fresh mint and add a squeeze of lime. Stir gently.

Eat immediately.




The mint family is a large clan with many variations. Medicinally Mentha piperita is favoured for its cooling, carminative properties. A steaming hot cup of peppermint tea can help clear the sinuses and settle a troubled stomach or racing mind. It is the perfect way to finish a fatty or spicy meal.

I also love mint in it’s many incarnations in laksa, green mango salad, prawn and noodle stir fries and as a refreshing summer drink muddled with lime juice, sugar and soda water.

This post celebrates Weekend Herb Blogging’s third birthday and is hosted by it’s founder Kalyn at Kalyn’s Kitchen - congratulations, what an amazing gift this weekly feature has been.

From next week Haalo, a fellow Melbournite, will be taking the reigns to care for this much loved event. Thanks again Kalyn for creating and nurturing Weekend Herb Blogging for these three years.

pickling while Wall Street burns*

When I am brave enough to continue my kitchen audit and spring clean the refrigerator (who knows, today could be the lucky day) I know there is going to be a plethora of jams, chutneys and relishes. The reality is my tastebuds tend to opt for savoury over sweet. As much as I like sweet things, I prefer salt, spice and alliums as a major part of my daily flavour profile. Because of this pickles and other unsweetened preserves never last long in the house.

The Significant Eater is a bit of a pickle-fiend. He has a thing for pickles of the European variety like onions, gherkins, eggs and rollmops but his love of Kimchi is legendary. On the top of my list is a good Indian mango pickle and our new favourite - achard, which hails from Mauritius.

A few weeks ago I spotted a tub of yellow vegetables, at a deli at Vic Market weeks ago and they’ve become a bit of a staple. Traditionally they are eaten with white bread and meat, neither being quite my thing. Instead I have added them as a side to vegetarian curries, smoked fish and the SE has been popping them into his sandwiches.

Pickles should be simple to make so I began searching for recipes, given we are getting through them so fast. Like the achard I bought the standard combination of vegetables seems to be cabbage, cauliflower, carrots and green beans. All recipes I looked at had onion, mustard seeds and garlic to flavour, with chilli, vinegar and turmeric being optional.

The brilliant yellow colour comes from the mustard seed oil, rather than the turmeric. I haven’t used this oil before and only occasionally worked with the seeds themselves. The oil, like the seeds, imparts an earthiness rather than just heat or spice. If you believe everything you read about mustard it could be competing for superfood status. It is reportedly high in the antioxidant selenium (though this depends on the status of the soil it is grown in) like garlic and as a member of the Brassica family has the reputation of being an anti-cancer food like all the rest of the cabbage clan.

For my first batch of Achard dé legumes I was inspired by a recipe from Madeleine Philippe. Here is my variation.

Mauritian pickles

1/4 – 1/2 green cabbage (depending on size), finely sliced
1/4-1/2 cauliflower, broken into small florets
2 carrots, julienned finely
a generous handful green beans (not in season yet so I stuck to my smaller sized hand for this measurement), finely sliced lengthways
180 ml (approx) mustard seed oil
2 tablespoons mustard seeds (I used yellow but the recipe calls for black) next time I’ll use more
6 cloves of garlic, crushed next time I’ll use more
1-2 large brown or white onions, finely sliced
1 large chilli (I used red though some recipes call for green) next time I’ll use more
2-3 tablespoons white vinegar
salt to taste

Sharpen your largest knife, pour a glass of wine, crank up the stereo or have someone around to chat and lend a hand.

Slice your way through the mound of vegetables. Cut as finely has you have the patience for. I separated my veg into 2 big bowls based on denseness and blanching time – the cabbage and beans in one, the cauliflower and carrots in another.

Get a large pot of water boiling.

When you have a rolling boil gently pour in the cauliflower and carrots, once the water comes back to the boil cook for another minute before adding the cabbage and beans. Give them a further minute or two on the boil before straining and cooling in ice water. The vegetables should still have some crunch. Once cooled leave them to strain, as you want to get as much water out as possible.

In a large pot, preferably one with a thick bottom, pour in the mustard oil and add the onion. Cook over a low heat, stirring frequently, until the onions are transparent. Next add the mustard seeds, garlic and turmeric. Give it another stir. Now combine the chilli and drained vegetables. You may need to add more oil, the idea is to coat them with the yellow fluid but not make them swim.

Now season with salt. While the spices will mature a bit with time the saltiness will stay the same.

Allow the vegetables to cool, and then mix in the vinegar.

Sterilize some wide mouth jars (hot wash in dishwasher, or cleaned by hand with detergent and water, followed by 20 minutes in a low oven).

This test batch filled 3 recycled, 500gm sized jars.

Pack your jars and refrigerate. Try to leave them at least a couple of days before devouring.



Last night we added the pickles as a side dish to a particularly spicy kedgeree. It both boosted the vegetable content of the meal and tempered the heat. It tasted so good that though I was full enough to burst, I still felt bereft that I couldn’t finish my plate.

Today for lunch I topped some rye bread with mayo, avocado, smoked salmon and achard. I see no end in sight for the pickle love-fest in progress in this house at the moment!


Pickle-pedia

Shelf life? If the pickles remain well covered with oil, brine or vinegar, stored in sterilized jars (don’t forget the lids) that seals well and kept in the refrigerated they should last for at least a year. However always use commonsense – look for any signs of mould, sniff and taste cautiously. As we are getting through a jar a week, I’m unlikely to find out just how long they will last.

Pickles are a good way to extend the life of vegetables but always use fresh, good quality produce to begin with.

It is great to use up a glut of seasonal produce.

Almost any vegetables can be blanched and pickled with vinegar or brine and spices.

It means there are vegetables on hand at times when the cupboards are bare or the fresh stuff is scarce.

While most nutritionists will tell you there is Vitamin C in pickles like this, in reality this nutrient is lost from the moment the plant is picked and cooking further depletes the C. However they still have a lot of fibre and trace nutrients.

*Have you noticed how fancy magazines like to feature recipes for jams, pickles and other preserves these days? I expect there will be even more of these as part of a new Depression Era Chic. I know most of our grandmothers would be aghast at buying a kilo or two of fruit or vegetables (often out of season at exorbitant prices) and a few designer jars. Preserving comes out of a tradition of ‘waste not, want not’ using up any excess produce that you have grown yourself to keep you fed during the lean months. If you can’t grow your own, look out for seasonal gluts, farm gate sales and buying in bulk at wholesale markets.


Today’s exploration of mustard seeds is in celebration of Weekend Herb Blogging, this week hosted by the delightful Susan from The Well Seasoned Cook

Creamy quinoa with banana, cinnamon and almonds

I’m in love!

Well, not just sneakingly with Bret from Flight of the Conchords but another foreign import.

Quinoa is a seedy/grain with when cooked is soft yet yields a subtle crunch. I have previously explored red and white quinoa in savoury recipes such as stuffed artichokes and a simple pilaf but thanks to a recent post from fellow quinoa-lover Heidi at 101 cookbooks I realised it was time to explore what this grain could offer with a little sweetness.

There is a delightful evolution that occurs through the sharing of recipes. Heidi’s starting point was a quinoa berry breakfast featured in Dr John La Puma's “Chef MD's Big Book of Culinary Medicine”, which she shared with us as her version of a warm and nutty cinnamon quinoa recipe. Being the opposite of blackberry season in this part of the world I changed the fruit, nuts, sweetener and milk to what was on hand. The method is the same, yet each combination creates another possibility of flavours.

The second star to this mighty breakfast (or healthy dessert) is a little cassia bark. I’ve always preferred the flavour of the bark found in my favourite Asian grocery store, over the dusty, milder quills of cinnamon from the supermarket. The tougher, gutsier cassia is easily grated with a microplane or grater, so sprinkling is over this cereal is dead easy. Cassia lifts this dish onto an even higher plane, not just in taste but also in health benefits. Latest research shows this versatile herb not only eases digestive upsets but is very promising in lowering blood glucose in diabetes as well as neutralising a few rogue triglycerides.



I see no need for 1% or low fat milk as the original recipe calls for. Basically you are diluting your white fluid of choice 50:50 with water, which inherently renders it lower in fat. Soy milk, if you are not allergic to it, is a pleasant way to get a dose of phyto-oestrogens (a preventer, rather than promoter of breast cancer as it has often been mis-reported), rice or oat milk would do but only resort to cows milk if you lack imagination or resources. While keeping to the original quantities there is one other variation, this made a hearty breakfast for 2 rather than 4 and kept us going all day! Every mouthful was met with mutual groans of joy. This is my new favourite cereal for breakfast, making it a great gluten-free and dairy-free way to start the days

Tip: Always wash your quinoa before using it. If you don’t the bitter residue left on the grain will make you wonder why people rave about this rather expensive addition to the pantry.

Creamy quinoa with bananas, cinnamon and almonds

1 cup soy, or other milk of your choice
1 cup water
1 cup quinoa (red or white, it doesn’t matter which but I made this with red quinoa because it looks so pretty) rinsed well
1/2 – 1 tsp cassia bark or cinnamon, try grating it yourself for freshness
a handful of almonds, cut into slivers with a sharp knife
1 banana
a drizzle of maple syrup

Combine the milk, water and quinoa in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat. While doing this if you have a gas cook top, warm a heat diffuser mat on another burner. Once boiling stir well, cover and transfer the pan to the heat mat (if not just turn the heat down to low). Simmer for about 15 minutes or until most of the liquid is absorbed. Add slices of banana and a generous sprinkle of cassia/cinnamon, stir through the quinoa, turn the heat off and leave the pan covered for another 5 minutes. Meantime, toast the slivered almonds in a hot pan until they begin to turn brown. Shake frequently and remember to remove from the pan from the heat the moment the almonds are done to prevent burning.

Spoon the quinoa into the bowls, garnish with another slice of banana, toasted almonds and a drizzle of maple syrup.

Take a deep breath and dive in!




This week’s Weekend Herb Blogging is hosted by Laurie at Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska. Check out her site in a couple of days to see the full round up of herb and vegetable recipes from around the globe.

mother of invention via Bali

Kangkung, water spinach or Ipomoea aquatica if you prefer – is an aquatic vegetable abundant in Southeast Asia. I’d heard about it long before I tasted it. The journey to my table was even longer.

The wonders of kangkung were uttered to me by a Malaysian woman I met about 5 years ago. “Please”, she entreated me “if you come and visit us in the country again bring us some kangkung.”

I had no idea what this king kong thing was. An Asian vegetable, triangular shaped leaves, high in iron. Schlepping around the Vic market I searched in vain for this vegetable, being sent here, there and everywhere by various stallholders but never ending up finding it in time for my last visit to see her.

Bali, of course, changed all that. Kangkung Pelecing is a staple on the island. We had it as our dose of daily greens on many occasions but the best of all was the large bowl assembled at our cooking class at Casa Luna.

I had every good intention of making it when I got home.

It’s only taken 6 months!

When I saw the glistening, fresh bunches at Vic market this week, I knew I had to buy some. I couldn’t remember what else was in the sambal but I reckoned I could wing it with what we had at home.

Necessity is the mother of invention. I had the Kangkung and dammit I was going to cook at least something vaguely resembling kangkung pelecing.

This is my version, interrupted halfway through preparation by a unexpected visitor, undeterred by an oil splatter on my naked arm (ouch!) or dirtying my brand new top (I really must get an apron) – I took the easy path by using a food processor and cooking the kangkug in the sambal. No shallots, candlenuts or kecap manis and fewer chillies than I would have liked – just as well because you aren’t allowed to reproduce the Casa Luna recipes!

Kangkung Pelecing (Water spinach in tomato sambal)

2 bunches of kangkung, well rinsed - stems roughly chopped
2-3 lime leaves, shredded
2-3 tablespoons of coconut oil
1 large spring onion, sliced on the diagonal (optional)

Tomato sambal

2 large red chillies (more if you have them)
2-3 tomatoes,
1 medium red onion (shallots would be better)
3 cloves of garlic
a small handful of nuts (almonds worked fine, though Id intended to use cashews)
a tsp or 2 of palm sugar
sea salt, to taste
1 tsp shrimp paste

Prepare the shrimp paste in the usual way. I wrap it in a double layer of al foil and dry roast in a hot fry pan for a few minutes.

Throw all the sambal ingredients in a food processor and blitz it. How easy is that?

Heat a wok and add the oil. Fry the sambal for about 5 minutes until it is reduced by nearly half. Traditionally you would have steamed the vegetables then mixed the sambal through it by hand but I noticed on the bottom of the recipe that throwing the kangkung in raw and cooking it in the sauce is was an acceptable variation to the method. With the wok still bubbling add the kangkung stalks and cook in the sambal for a few minutes. Add the lime leaves and spring onions then lastly the kangkung leaves. Give it a good mix through and take off the heat.

This is a fragrant and incredibly tasty vegetable side dish to an Asian meal. It also makes an easy lunch with rice on a hot day. Tofu could be added for it to become a stand-alone dish.




Weekend Herb Blogging is hosted this month by Claudia from Fool for Food.

Update: Did I articulate just how yummy the sambal is?! Don't be put off if you can't find this exotic vegetable, English spinach is an obvious substitute but be adventurous and try mixing the sambal through your favourite steamed greens.

I've now made three variations on this dish. Remember to keep in mind (on palate?) the salt/sugar balance. Like so many culinary beauties it is another case of 'just a bit more' of the things that are not so healthy for us. In this case it's the coconut oil that makes it lush, along with the palm sugar and salt. It is easiest to boil the kangkung for about 3 minutes. The latest version was to cook the sambal in the oil for 7-10 minutes then throw in the boiled vegetable with some diced tofu. Along with some steamed rice the combo is tasty and satisfying.

WHB #95 - tortilla with a sting

Nettles: I asked and you told me - ‘use it like spinach’ and soon I discovered that this herb with a sting is easily tamed into a sweet bunch of greens.

The darling Mrs Grieve gives many culinary uses for nettles. The nettle pudding – a mix of nettles, green vegetables and rice, boiled in salty water in a muslin bag sounded interesting. Maybe later. But for my nettle initiation I decided to go back to first principles of exploring new flavours by cooking them with eggs. At first I decided to blanch some young nettle tops and add them to a tortilla Español. A little bit of greens would go well with some potato and olives I reckoned. While I started slowly cooking the spuds and onions, I dunked the nettles into hot water. About 30 seconds later I took them out to drain.

Then I did a stupid thing - I tasted them!

No, my throat didn’t swell from the nettles sting. I just fell in love with its sweet flavour, not a whisper of a barb. One minute I was squeezing out the water by rolling the blanched nettles in a clean tea towel and the next, without thinking, I had chopped the log into rounds, dressing them with a little sesame oil – and finished the lot.

Round two, the next day I was determined to marry the eggs and herbs. Simpler this time, I slowly cooked some onion and a little garlic in olive oil. To the garden, well gloved, once more I cut a whole bowlful of green tops then carefully chopped, the same rough cut I would do with parsley. With the onions well sweated I tossed in the nettles a bit at a time, with some semidried tomatoes. When all the nettles had cooked through, in came a couple of fresh, beaten eggs with just a smidge of salt and pepper. Call it an omelette, frittata or tortilla – I prefer to cook it the Spanish way – over low heat with a lid on, til cooked.



The verdict. Though packed with greens, the herby taste was barely noticeable. This is a sneaky way to up the nutrient content of a humble dish. But I think I need a few more hits of the sweet nettles, blanched and simply dressed before the season ends


WHB #95 is being hosted by Melissa from Cooking Diva. Don't forget to check out all the other herbal and vegetable creations that will be up on her site in a couple of days.


(Hmmm it's now friday - let's hope Melissa gets home from her trip and puts WHB up soon!)

a new star in the kitchen

Weekend Herb blogging is a fine institution, initiated by the delightful Kalyn many moons ago now. It’s been a long time since I contributed a post specifically for this weekly event, which is just plain laziness on my part because almost all my recipes fit the criteria of featuring a herb, plant, vegetable or flower. Today’s recipe stars many wondrous herbs and vegetables but what makes it special for me is it is the first time I have used one particular herb in its fresh form – Turmeric.



Curcuma longa is a member of the ginger family (of which there are 3 from the clan in this recipe) and like it’s close, edible relatives it is the rhizome that is used in cooking. In Bali I saw the plumpest healthiest example of the root – our teacher explained the large, central mass was the “grandmother” and the smaller fingers, grandchildren. Here in Melbourne I’ve only ever found the babies at the market and I suspect they are all a little long in the tooth. It has a mild fragrance, nowhere near as zingy and peppery as ginger but it is a quiet achiever in the medicinal world. Other than a dye and a food flavouring, turmeric is a star in the arena of medicinal herbalism. All gingers have been found to have anti-inflammatory properties, technically a cox-2 inhibitor like some of those fancy arthritis meds but without the negative side effects. But I like it best as a liver tonic, which the Indians and Indonesians have always known about. As mentioned in a previous post, it is also a local cure-all antiseptic, the natural version of betadine.

But back to the food. In a curry so fragrant as this it is hard to single out the taste of turmeric. It is a member of a broader orchestra, adding a bit of a base note to a culinary symphony.

My favourite dish that we learnt to cook at the Casa Luna Cooking School was the fish coated in spices and bundled up in banana leaves. A quick whiz around the market filled the few gaps in fresh herbs needed to make this meal, however time ran out before the essential banana and salam leaves could be sourced. Undeterred we reproduced an altered version of the paste and added more water to make it a rich sauce in which to simmer fish and vegetables. As this curry is made with a little tomato it is a lovely change from a coconut curry, exploding with flavours as it hits your palate.

Balinese inspired fish curry

2-3 tabs vegetable oil (we used unrefined coconut)
250 g fish and 350 g assorted vegetables (we used locally caught blue eye, sweet potato, cauliflower and carrots)
(If you wish to make this with fish only use about 600 g firm fish)
4 shredded kaffir lime leaves
water

Curry Paste
1 large clove elephant garlic
small handful cashew nuts
3 tsp shrimp paste (toasted)
1 large tab tamarind, softened in hot water
4 small red chillies
1 tab fresh turmeric
2 tabs palm sugar
1 small red onion (or 3 shallots)
1 tsp sea salt (to taste, for balance)
2 stalks of lemongrass, bruised and chopped
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 tsp coriander seeds, toasted
1.5 – 2 tabs galangal
1 tab fresh ginger
1/2-1 tin tomatoes (or equivalent fresh)



Toast the shrimp paste and coriander seeds. If using a food processor - grind the black pepper and coriander first. We decided to processes the paste, not pound in a mortar and pestle due to quantity, so we grated the ginger, galangal and turmeric as well. Whiz the spices up to a delicious mush.

Cube your fish and vegetables and put aside til needed. Fry the spice paste in some vegetable oil to release the aromas then add the vegetables and shredded lime leaves. Stir them all together, toss in the remaining tomatoes if you reserved half the tin and top up with water til you get the right consistency to simmer the veg. Once cooked, add the fish for about 3 minutes. Taste for balance in flavours – add more salt or a splash of fish sauce is needing a boost, palm sugar dissolved in hot water if it needs more sweet or a squeeze of lime juice if the acid is lacking.

Serve with steamed rice.

This is a great dish, high in flavour and low in fat. The herbs alone must add a couple of extra years of good health to your life!

Weekend Herb Blogging is hosted this week by Susan from Food Blogga. Don't forget to check FoodBlogga over the next few days to see the Herb Blogging round up for this week.