There is something faintly accusatory about a supermarket basil plant. You bring it home full of optimism, place it on the kitchen windowsill like an Italian herbaceous pet, water it carefully, maybe even say something absurd like, "This time I'll look after it properly." Then within four days it resembles a Victorian child recovering from consumption.
The problem is that supermarkets are not really selling you a basil plant. They are selling you something halfway between a garnish and a temporary display item. The pot contains about seventeen basil plants crammed together in conditions more suited to a refugee boat crossing the Channel. They look lush in the shop because they have been force-grown in perfect commercial greenhouse conditions with controlled light, warmth and watering. Then they arrive in a British kitchen in May where the temperature swings between Tuscany and Cape Horn every six hours.
People always say, very smugly, "You need to split them into separate pots." Yes. Because apparently when buying a £1.35 herb plant you are expected to embark upon a horticultural evacuation exercise involving compost, drainage and root separation surgery. The moment you tip the thing out of the pot you discover the roots form a solid white cube of despair.
And basil is a diva. Parsley will tolerate neglect. Mint would survive a nuclear exchange. Rosemary practically thrives on contempt. Basil, meanwhile, reacts to a cool breeze like a Downton Abbey lady hearing unpleasant trade news.
The truly maddening thing is that one surviving supermarket basil plant can become enormous if treated correctly. You occasionally encounter someone with a thriving basil bush the size of a Victorian fern, and they always explain the process with infuriating calm. "Oh, I just repotted it immediately, pinched out the tops, monitored soil moisture, rotated it for even light, and fed it weekly." At which point you realise they have accidentally turned basil into something requiring a maintenance schedule and written records.
Most supermarket basil plants do not die. They are simply completing the brief for which they were designed. Which is to look optimistic beside mozzarella for approximately 72 hours.
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