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Husband's hoe doesn't daunt hardy fennel For more than a year now, my husband has waged a long and bitter war against a tenacious fennel plant in our back yard. This spring, it seems, the fennel is winning, fronds down. I planted a small container of the aromatic herb a few summers ago, hoping to create a lovely fence-side border and a steady supply of the licorice-flavored bulbs and feathery leaves. Little did I know that the plant would become the bane of my guy's existence, a veritable forest of fennel that sprouted and spread and ruined his long-range landscaping plans. At first, he was diplomatic about the fennel assaults: He'd prune a little here, clip a little there and bring me the cuttings, innocently, as if they were mere gifts for my kitchen. "Here, honey," he'd say. "Can't you make something out of this stuff?" "How nice," I'd reply, leafing to the F index in my "Herbs of the World" cookbook. And I'd whip up a Fennel Frittata or Chicken with Fennel and Greek Olives or a salad with fresh fennel vinaigrette. Dished on a plate with a side of fresh bread, fennel didn't seem all that bad, my husband allowed. He even liked the taste of the pale green plant with the celerylike leaves, a little licorice-y, but without the bitter bite of anise. "This is good," he said. "You'd never know it was the plant from hell." Soon, though, his fennel frustration became more apparent. The herb had sprouted from a delicate spray to a hardy 4-foot bush. Instead of snipping the thing, he started hacking at it, cleaving huge hunks from its feathery mass and tossing them into the compost bin. "Why'd you plant this thing anyway?" he fumed, stomping into the kitchen in a licorice-scented cloud. "I mean, it's not like there's a big fennel shortage, is there? Can't you just BUY it at the store?" Of course I could buy it. Fresh fennel has been available widely for several years now, ever since chi-chi magazines started highlighting it in recipes from main dishes to salads. Foodies have long known that fennel's bulbous base can be treated like a vegetable: It's delicious in braises, sautes or soups. They know that the delicate leaves can be used as an elegant garnish or as a last-minute flavor enhancer. They even know how to buy it: to look for clean, crisp bulbs with no sign of browning attached to fresh, green tops. But I didn't want to buy it. I wanted a steady, fresh source of fennel, just on the outside chance I ever craved a dish that demanded it. What I got was an out-of-control herb and a wildly irritated spouse. Last summer, when the fennel had grown to a impenetrable hedge, my husband had had enough. We both knew it had been months since I'd sauteed a single fennel bulb. Clearly, the time for a showdown had arrived. Armed with a shovel and a hoe, my husband gritted his teeth and attacked the plant. He dug and he cut and he pulled, wrenching the wretched fennel from the unforgiving soil. "That's THAT!" he said last summer, firmly smoothing the ground where the fennel once grew. But it wasn't. When the rain clouds finally lifted last week, the sun revealed an awful truth: tiny, feathery stalks emerging from the earth. My husband still hasn't recovered from the sight. Me? I'm ready to renew my fennel passion. I think I'll start with Broiled Chicken with Thyme, Fennel and Peppers from a back issue of Bon Appetit magazine. See below. Broiled Chicken with Thyme, Fennel and Peppers 3 small fennel bulbs (about 2 3/4 pounds), trimmed, quartered, lengthwise 3 red bell peppers, cut into 1-inch strips 2 tablespoons olive oil 3 teaspoons chopped thyme 6 boneless chicken breasts 2 tablespoons butter 2 teaspoons grated lemon peel 1 teaspoon fennel seeds, crushed Fresh thyme sprigs Cook fennel bulbs in a large saucepan of boiling, salted water until crisp-tender, about 8 minutes. Drain; cool. Toss fennel, bell peppers, olive oil and 1 teaspoon chopped thyme in a large bowl to coat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate.) Preheat broiler. Using mallet or rolling pin, pound each chicken breast between sheets of plastic to -inch thickness. Sprinkle chicken with salt and pepper. Place chicken, skin-side-down, on broiler pan. Watching closely, broil chicken 4 to 5 inches from heat source until golden brown and almost cooked through, about 5 minutes. Remove broiler pan from oven. Pour off any pan drippings. Using tongs, turn chicken over and broil skin is golden and chicken is cooked through, about 4 minutes longer. Transfer chicken to platter. Tent with foil to keep warm. Pour off any additional pan drippings. Working in 2 batches, arrange peppers and fennel in a single layer on broiler pan. Broil until vegetables begin to brown and peppers are tender, about 2 minutes per side. Transfer vegetables to platter with chicken. Meanwhile, melt butter in a heavy, small saucepan over medium-low heat. Mix in remaining chopped thyme, lemon peel and fennel seeds. Season with salt and pepper. Drizzle butter over chicken. Garnish chicken with thyme. Makes 6 servings. From Bon Appetit magazine, March 1998. (Send questions to A la carte, P.O. Box 1108, Medford, OR 97501. Reach JoNel Aleccia at 776-4465 or by e-mail at [email protected] ) Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 2000, Medford, Oregon USA