I vow to thee, my 'very stinking herb'

Having trodden the fine line between love and hate, Tom Parker Bowles finds that what once tasted vile is now sweetly seductive: yes, he has fallen in lust with coriander

- Tom Parker Bowles

WE didn’t start well. Me and coriander, that is, a nefarious herb I didn’t so much dislike as detest. The feeling was entirely mutual. It would go out of its way to irk and anger me, sullying stir fries, curries and tacos alike with its aggressively strange, deliberately repellent tang. I mean, how could one such innocuous-looking leaf —the very picture of fresh-faced, verdant beauty—punish the taste buds with such violent disdain. For a good few years, I spent hours methodically picking out each and every green scrap, cursing furiously under my breath. Damn you, coriander, fridge-store antichrist, the Mephistopheles of the kitchen.

Then, a strange thing happened. I’m not sure quite when or exactly where. It could have been at David Thompson’s Nahm and that mighty dish with the beef and cumin. Or perhaps a jalfrezi, curry house or otherwise, that came buried under a blanket of the stuff. Perhaps even a lone leaf, perched atop the LST Nachos at The Lone Star Texas Grill. What I do know, however, is that, suddenly, undistilled antipathy turned to abject adoration.