I usually like to kick these articles off with a brief introduction: a little background about the crop’s botanical classification and other plants it’s related to. In the case of parsley, I don’t think it needs much of an introduction. However, I do think we ought to pay it a bit more respect.
Parsley is the perfect wingman; it builds up everything around it, making things more interesting, while leaving room for the other flavours to mingle. It does this without ever stealing the spotlight—even though it totally could. In return, we treat it with a bland indifference. It’s neither reviled nor revered. So, while parsley might not need an introduction, it sure could use a bit of help in the PR department.
Kale’s rise to fame, and what we can learn from it
I dream of a world where parsley receives its due praise and attention, where its presence on a menu drives consumers into a ravenous frenzy. Outrageous, you say? Let me remind you of kale’s meteoric rise to fame, as I believe there are lessons to be learned in this story. Prior to the turn of the century, North Americans didn’t really eat much kale. For some time, Pizza Hut, of all places, was one of the largest consumers of kale. Not because anyone actually ate the stuff, but because it languished around the salad bar, forming a limp little barrier between the carrot sticks and the ranch dip. Now look at it. Look at how far kale has come. I see it massaged into all sorts of hip new dishes, pretending it’s as crisp and refreshing as romaine in a Caesar salad, and generally just enjoying its celebrity status ever since Bon Appétit named 2012 the year of kale. [Nitpicky editor’s note: Technically, Crispy Kale Salad with Lime Dressing was Bon Appétit’s 2012 Dish of the Year. But close enough.]
Did kale all of a sudden get more awesome? Absolutely not. We, as consumers, finally took notice of it, changed our relationship with it, and the rest is history.
Compare that rise to glory with the sad story of parsley. Sure, parsley is everywhere, but it’s rarely given its due respect. And what’s more, we seem to wish to replace it at every opportunity. When I type “Can parsley be a substitute for kale?” I get results for kale chimichurri or kale tabouli, making me want to scream, “Stay in your lane, kale!” When was the last time you heard someone suggest using parsley as a substitute for something? For example, did you know you can substitute parsley for spinach when making saag paneer? Well, you can, and you should, because it’s delicious.
Don’t underestimate parsley’s power
Parsley plays well with pretty much everything, supporting and elevating the work of all its edible peers. It adds depth and character to cooked dishes, and vibrancy and interest to raw ones. Compare that with its other herb companions: cilantro is too divisive—roughly 20 per cent of us despise it. Dill is too pretentious—it really only wants to hang out with seafood and, like, three other vegetables. And don’t even suggest rosemary or thyme until we’re talking turkey.
I suggest you see parsley in a fresh light while making decisions around dinner. Whip up a beautiful parsley-laden chimichurri for your grilled steaks and listen to your dinner guests swoon in appreciation. Swap spinach for parsley in a salad with strawberries and goat cheese and friends will praise your culinary cunning. And please, can we put kale on the bench for a bit and let parsley play? Come on, coach!
Let’s let parsley do the talking for once. Just like that perfect wingman, it often has more interesting things to say than most of us expect.
