A courtyard behind a terraced house, a balcony off a flat, a narrow strip of paving beside the back door — none of these will give you a decent marrow, but all of them will give you herbs. Herbs are, in many ways, the ideal crop for the urban gentleman: they ask for very little room, they reward attention quickly, and they earn their keep every time you cook. A sprig of rosemary laid under a leg of lamb, a handful of mint bruised into a jug of something cold, a scatter of chives across scrambled eggs — small luxuries that cost almost nothing once the plant is settled in.
There is also something quietly civilising about stepping out of the kitchen with a pair of scissors in hand. It slows the evening down, and it connects the cooking to the growing. All of it takes roughly a square metre of ground.
Not every herb suits a pot, and not every herb suits a small garden. The following earn their place.
Sage, oregano and marjoram are all worth adding if you have the space, and all follow the same rules as thyme and rosemary.
Terracotta breathes, which suits the Mediterranean herbs beautifully, though it dries out quickly in summer. Glazed or plastic pots hold moisture far better and are the kinder home for mint, parsley and chives. Whichever you choose, drainage holes are non-negotiable, with a layer of crocks or gravel at the base and a pot foot to lift the whole thing clear of the paving. Standing pots directly on stone is the fastest way to sour, waterlogged compost.
For compost, use a peat-free multipurpose for the soft herbs, but mix it three parts to one with horticultural grit for thyme, rosemary, sage and oregano. Rosemary in particular appreciates a John Innes No.2, which is heavier and holds its structure for longer. Never fill a pot with garden soil; it compacts, drains badly and brings weeds with it.
Position is the single decision that matters most. The Mediterranean herbs want six hours of direct sun a day, minimum; mint and parsley will manage on four. A south- or west-facing wall is ideal, because brickwork and render store heat and release it slowly, and a sheltered corner can be two or three degrees warmer than the open garden.
Group your pots rather than scattering them. Clustering creates a little microclimate of humidity and mutual shelter, and it makes watering a single task rather than five. A tiered planter or a simple shelf helps too, so that nothing sits in the shadow of something taller. Do keep the whole arrangement within a few steps of the door — the herbs you actually use are the ones you can reach without putting shoes on.
Pots dry out far faster than open ground, so check them daily through summer, ideally in the morning. Water until it runs from the base, then leave them be. Feeding should be restrained: the Mediterranean herbs need a weak liquid feed perhaps every three or four weeks from April to August, and no more. Too much nitrogen gives you lush, floppy growth with feeble flavour. Mint and parsley will take a little more generosity.
Come autumn, cut back on watering, raise the pots onto feet and move rosemary and bay against a sheltered wall. Through winter, resist mollycoddling — most of these plants would rather be cool and dry than warm and damp. In spring, top-dress with fresh compost, replace anything that has sulked its way through the cold, and begin again.
Never take more than a third of a plant at any one time. Pinch basil just above a pair of leaves to encourage branching. Snip thyme and chives with scissors rather than pulling at them. With rosemary, cut only the soft green growth and avoid cutting back into old, woody stems, which rarely regenerate.
Pick before the plant flowers for the finest flavour, though if you leave a few blooms the bees will thank you for it. And use what you cut straight away — the distance between a sprig taken from the pot and one shaken out of a supermarket packet is not a subtle one. That short walk from kitchen to doorstep, it turns out, is where most of the flavour lives.
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