Savory

Savory, let me tell you, is a herb that earns its place next to beans. Drop a sprig into the pot with lentils or beans, and the smell changes — sharper, rounder, more alive than beans alone ever smell. Stir the pot and lean in close: that's the sign it's working.

Choose it by the nose, always. Crush a leaf between your fingers — good savory bites back, sharp, a little peppery, with a bitter edge underneath. If it smells like dry grass and nothing else, leave it on the shelf — it has lost its soul.

Some people say savory is just another seasoning for meat, nothing special, toss in a pinch and move on. No! Put your nose to it again when you're cooking beans, not meat, and smell what happens. The pot turns sharper, livelier, like the beans woke up. Treat savory as a meat herb only, and you'll skip that moment entirely — your beans will sit flat and heavy, missing the lift that sprig would have given them, and you won't even know what's missing.