Are Bay Leaves Bullsh*t?

Stepping in the culinary discourse of the day.

Howdy cookbook fans!

Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

Some days, as the internet says, you wake up and choose violence. And some afternoons, for no damn good reason, I decide to step in the internet cooking discourse of the day.

Paula Forbes @paulaforbes

i keep seeing internet jokes about how bay leaves don't taste like anything/don't do anything in a dish and...that is wrong? are you all just using old stale bay leaves? (yes)

That’s a whole thread if you are into that kind of thing.

It started in December, when la contessa Ina Garten gave an interview to the New Yorker Radio Hour in which she said:

I always also wonder whether bay leaf makes a difference. There are a couple of things that I use bay leaves in and I've always wanted to make them without the bay leaves to see if it made a difference and they never have so I'm not sure.

And then this week, the New Yorker ONCE AGAIN came for bay leaves:

New Yorker Cartoons (@nycartoons@mstdn.social) @nycartoons

Cartoon by Mads Horwath “And, to make no difference, add a three-year-old bay leaf.” newyorker.com/cartoon/a27520

The above cartoon show two people talking in a kitchen in front of a pot on a stovetop. One of them is reaching into a small bag and saying, “And, to make no difference, add a three-year-old bay leaf.” What does the New Yorker have against bay leaves?!

In between, I have seen all manner of “bay leaves are bullshit” discourse on the internet, ranging from the “white people food” variety to claims that they have no flavor, that only fresh bay leaves (ie straight from the tree, not dried) have flavor, that everyone has a bag of stale tasteless bay leaves in their cabinet (that last one might be true).

This has not been my experience with bay leaves.

Well, I’ve definitely opened a bag from my cabinet only to find ancient bay leaves that have gone stale. (I now buy fresh leaves and put them in a ziplock in the bottom of my produce drawer, they eventually dry out and, generally speaking, taste like something until I’ve finished the bags.) But I think we are being a little unfair to the leaves of the poor laurel tree! Many have tried to describe the flavor of bay leaves, which I think of as sort of a cross between green tea and thyme? Whatever the flavor, it is definitely all about the aroma: as

Andrew Janjigian

of

Wordloaf

points out, most of their flavor is comprised of "volatile aromatics" that can dissipate if not deployed correctly.

Over at the Washington Post, Becky Krystal explores the use of bay leaves in light of the discourse. Below, I thought it might be fun to look at what various cookbook authors have written about bay leaves: its flavor, how it is used, and other thoughts on the fragrant little leaf we cook with but don’t eat:

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Bay laurel, Laurus nobilis, is an evergreen shrub with thick, inedible leaves that are highly aromatic….Bay leaves may seem like a culinary Hail Mary—an ingredient thrown in for good luck and not much else. However, we argue that they add a wonderful, subtle menthol-like note to soups, stews, stocks, braises, marinades, pickles, beans, and pasta cooking water.

—The Joy of Cooking, 2019 edition, by Irma S. Rombauer, Marion Rombauer Becker, Ethan Becker, John Becker, and Megan Scott.

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I’m a litttle too fond of bay leaf. I use it a lot. I probably have a fondness for it because I associate it with so many childhood flavors, like pot roast. It has a hearty quality to it and I associate it with stocks and big flavors.

—David Waltuck, chef of Chanterelle in New York City, as quoted in The Flavor Bible by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg.

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The Indian bay leaf is almost seven inches long, thin, dull, and light green, with a sweet taste and a mellow, spicy aroma. Indian bay leaves crumble readily, which is a great asset, as they can easily be powdered and mixed with other spices…it is one of the four essential spices (cardamom, cinnamon, and clove being the others) that give pilaf [its] distinctive fragrance.

—Classic Indian Cooking by Julie Sahni.

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Bay leaf, one of the most popular [herbs], adds zest to meat pie, stews, soups (especially pea soup) and tomato juice.

—The Fanny Farmer Cookbook, Eleventh Edition, revised by Wilma Lord Perkins.

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Native California bay laurel grows wild all over the Bay Area, but for culinary uses we choose locally grown Mediterranean bay. Beets and bay leaves may not be known as a classic combination, but the inherent sweetness and earthiness of the beets play well with the loamy, nutty qualities of the bay.

—Bar Tartine by Nicolaus Balla and Cortney Burns.

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Bay leaves are mostly used in savory dishes, but if you crush a bay leaf in your hand, close your eyes, and take a deep breath, you’ll notice that it has an aromatic sweetness to it, like a pleasant combination of cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, and cardamom. Even though bay leaves keep well when dried, fresh ones have the most intense and complex flavor. If you have a favorite vanilla custard, feel free to…replace the vanilla with bay leaves.

—Kitchen of Light: The New Scandinavian Cooking by Andreas Viestad.

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Also called bay laurel or laurel leaves, bay leaves are used to flavor soups, stews, and lamb dishes. Of the two kinds on the market—Californian and Turkish—I prefer the sweeter, more subtle oval Turkish variety. California bay leaves are long and thin and impart a slightly bitter flavor to foods. Dried bay leaves should not crumble or be broken in the package. Discard them if they are bland or brittle when you rub one between your hands.

—The Arab Table by May Bsisu.

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We put a bay leaf in almost every dish in this cookbook. There are many different types of bay trees. I use bay laurel. I’m always foraging the city of New Orleans looking for a bay tree, and I’m thrilled when the farmers at the Crescent City Farmers Market bring in branches that we can dry and use.

—Mosquito Supper Club by Melissa M. Martin.

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When you think of bay laurel, the images of Olympic medalists or ancient Roman emperors donning wreaths may come to mind. What we now mostly use for culinary purposes has been considered a symbol of peace, honor, and triumph since the time of the Ancient Greeks, who ascribed it to Apollo in their myths.

—The Spice Companion by Lior Lev Sercarz.

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So: what are your thoughts on bay leaves? How do you use them, how do you store them, do you think they are worthless? (Be careful how you respond, they do belong to Apollo, after all.)