Let's get this out of the way right now: white people, it's me, your brother in lack of melanin. Please stop telling people with more interesting culinary heritages that bay leaves are pointless. If you think bay leaves are pointless and have no taste, at least one of two things is true: 1) your bay leaves are older than dirt and thus taste like dirt; 2) you've never experienced the bay leaf flavor up close and personal so you think it doesn't add anything. As I am about to do, try chewing on one and see if you get no flavor from it. I bet it'll surprise you. Rant over. Please stick around to find out more about bay leaves.
Bay leaves are widely used in dishes from all over the world, but most people don't do more than add one when the recipe calls for it, and if that's you, you're missing out. You can sometimes find fresh ones in international markets (or maybe even your local grocery store if you're lucky) which pack a major punch. India in particular has longer leaves, while the ones you're more likely to find dried in America are smaller and more lozenge-shaped.
Because I love you, I'm going to do something that most people don't, and that's to taste a dry leaf all by itself. But first, to appreciate a bay leaf, you've got to smell it.
Scent
Bay leaves, even dried, pack a punch that you might not expect. They smell peppery and resinous, like a combination of peppercorns and rosemary or pine. And they're not shy; if you crush a bay leaf between your fingers, you should smell it without even holding it up to your nose. If you don't, it's likely your bay leaf is old. They're not expensive, and even the cheaper ones have a decent flavor if preserved properly in a dark, airtight place. But even if you've got a Methuselah leaf, cook with it, just increase the number, or... well, I don't want to give it away, but we'll be discussing options a little later on.
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for:
Taste
Minty. Surprisingly minty. Then as the crumbs spread across my palate, a slight bitterness, not unreasonably so but something to keep in mind. Not spicy like a peppercorn but with all the other peppery notes. Slightly numbing, slightly resinous, though less like pine or rosemary and more like... wood? The bitterness is reminiscent of grapefruit; it's almost like the non-spicy parts of pepper and the peel of a grapefruit somehow infused wood. The mintiness goes away quite quickly and I imagine its flavor compounds are the most volatile, so you probably would never taste it if you heated the bay leaf.
Full disclosure: I didn't eat a whole leaf, just a fragment of it. A whole leaf would both be difficult to grind up with my teeth and also probably so potent that I'd lose the delicate notes.
Let me assure you that I am not suggesting that bay become a major flavor note of anything you cook. It's powerful and unless you, like me, appreciate strange tastes, solo it's a bit off-putting. I know people who don't like bay leaves. But if you've cheerfully been including them in your soup recipes for years, now you know what it was adding (although nothing beats first-hand experience and I still recommend that you taste your spices).
Wow, it's powerful stuff. I ate it ten minutes ago and I can still taste and smell it quite clearly.
Pairings
Meat and beans. No shock there. Bay leaves will also enhance both the resinous qualities of rosemary and the peppery qualities of pepper without adding more overt flavor notes.
Any time you're using a bay leaf, while you can just add them to liquids, a better idea, one which will get you more interesting flavor, is to bloom them like you would any other spice. Many flavor compounds are only oil-soluble, so by heating a bay leaf in some oil will release compounds that wouldn't be extracted if you just hydrate it in hot liquid.
Another option, or an addition, is to dry-roast your bay leaf like you would a dried chile. It'll temper some of the flavors and enhance others. Be very careful though; bay is powerful stuff and dry-roasting can remove interesting subtleties in favor of bitterness if you go too far with it. Seconds, not minutes. If you're not sure, try blooming first and then if you want to experiment, dry-roast and then take a taste to get an idea of what stays and what gets toned down.
I promised to discuss options for old bay leaves, and blooming is one of the best. But another is, wait for it, grinding. Yes, you can chuck a bay leaf into a spice mix you're grinding in your spice grinder (so cheap, so worth it, really will have to discuss these one of these days) or just all by itself. Increasing the surface area by powdering is a great way to increase the flavor in all spices, and bay is no exception. Again, be very careful; I've put too much in and wound up with a very bitter mix as a result. If a recipe calls for one bay leaf, try a pinch of bay powder. The nice thing about the powder is that you can always add more later, unlike a bay leaf which really needs to be cooked for a while to release its flavor.
The Weird Suggestion at the End
Grinding could have gone here, but plenty of people know about grinding and all sorts of curry powders, masalas, and other spice blends already take advantage of this, so it's no really weird so much as it is lesser-known in certain circles. Surprisingly, Old Bay Seasoning does not contain ground bay leaves, but it would probably be good if it did.
No, today the weird suggestion is simple: citrus. Specifically citrus-infused simple syrup. This isn't unique to me; other people have done it, but it's going to be picked up a bit. First, simple syrup is just half sugar, half water, heated up until everything dissolves, then used in desserts and cocktails. To infuse your simple syrup with citrus, get a vegetable peeler and peel a few strips of citrus zest, trying to get just the colored part, not the white. It's okay if they don't look pretty. No one but you will see them. Then take a bay leaf (or more, if you want more flavor or are making a lot) and crumble it up a little. Add that and your zest to the pot with the sugar and water.
Perk them for a little longer than you otherwise would (if you otherwise would; if this is your first time, just heat up the water to a simmer and stir until the sugar is dissolved, then let it stay simmering for five minutes or so). Let the syrup cool to room temperature with the zest and bay leaf still in it.
Now you've got something fun and new for cocktails or mocktails. There are certainly some cocktails which involve garnishing with bay leaves, but there's no flavor there. You've got concentrated flavor in your syrup. Give it a taste first to see how infused it got, and then add a dash to anything that might benefit from citrus, including lemonade (hard or not). You'll get a bit of a peppery bite without the heat, and a bit of the gin resin without the gin. I imagine folks of the mocktail orientation might enjoy a mock gin and tonic, but lemonades and ginger ales are equally-good candidates.
If you're adventurous, you can reduce the simple syrup to a more syrupy consistency and serve over sorbet. Be careful with concentrating the flavor and always taste first, but I think you'll look at bay leaves in a whole new light if you give them a try. Go ahead. They're waiting for you. This is cookable.
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