Why does my tarragon taste awful?
There are two kinds of tarragon—French and Russian—and they are so not the same thing. If you’ve ever been underwhelmed by this amazing herb, or thought it tasted pretty horrible, there’s a fair chance you’ve used the wrong one. Which is easy to do so we’re not finger-pointing. We’ve done it ourselves. French tarragon though has slightly darker, glossier leaves than Russian and BTW there’s even a third type; sort of. Mexican tarragon (Tagetes lucida), also known as Mexican marigold, Texas tarragon, or Spanish tarragon, is a tarragon-like herb native to Central America and Mexico, but despite the name, it's not botanically related to French or Russian tarragon. It shares a similar flavour profile, which makes it a popular substitute in places where French tarragon can struggle to grow.
French tarragon (Artemisia dracunculus var. sativa) is flavour-packed, with a distinctly fragrant anise (licorice-like) taste. It’s sweet, slightly peppery, and brings an elegant note to a dish. It’s what you want to use when you see “tarragon” in a recipe—the tapered leaves are tender, releasing aromatic oils beautifully when chopped or even just bruised. It’s a classic in French cuisine, and the French really know how to highlight its flavour. Tarragon is key to a proper béarnaise sauce—the buttery, tangy sauce that elevates steak or grilled fish. It pairs well with eggs, chicken and seafood; try tarragon in a mayonnaise for chicken salad, and you’ll never go back to plain mayo again. While tarragon today is mostly associated with classical French cooking, it’s also used in Caucasian and Eastern European cuisines, particularly in soups and stews, such as khashlama, a slow-cooked Georgian stew of lamb or beef, subtly infused with the bittersweet notes of tarragon, and chakapuli, another meat stew featuring a whole pile of herbs, including tarragon. In Georgia, they even toss tarragon into tarkhuna, a refreshing, neon-green sweet soda.
Russian tarragon (Artemisia dracunculus var. dracunculoides), on the other hand, is bitter and far less flavoursome, and it has coarser, larger leaves. Because it grows easily, it’s more commonly found. Russian tarragon has its place—sort of. It’s often used as a leafy garnish or in dishes where its flavour won’t overwhelm and some people swear by it in vinegar infusions or hearty stews, where its signature bitterness blends in better. But we can honestly take or leave it.
The word ‘tarragon’, BTW, comes from the French word estragon, derived from the Latin word for ‘little dragon’. This likely refers to the long, serpentine root system, although there’s an old myth that tarragon could cure bites from poisonous creatures, hence the dragon association. The plant is native to Eurasia, particularly around the Caspian Sea and Siberia, and has been used for centuries as both a culinary herb and in folk medicine. It contains eugenol, a compound with mild anaesthetic properties, which led to its use for treating toothaches and minor aches (people would literally chew on tarragon leaves to relieve dental pain).
If you’re ready to get real with tarragon, now’s the time as tarragon is a warm-weather herb, dying back in the winter.
Start with dishes where that distinctive aniseed flavour can shine—think seafood, eggs, or a creamy soup or rich sauce. A tarragon compound butter melted over roasted veggies? Gourmet vibes, totally. You can even play around with tarragon in desserts. How about a tarragon-infused syrup over poached pears or strawberries? Tarragon’s slight liquorice edge pairs surprisingly well with fruit, bringing an unexpected sophistication to sweeter flavours.
Tarragon might not be the flashiest herb, but it’s got serious range. Whether you're experimenting with classic French sauces or adding some herbal punch to your everyday meals, it’s a kitchen essential. Just remember: French tarragon for flavour, Russian tarragon... maybe for ground cover.
