Mentha spp.
Mint is a family resemblance more than a single flavor. The true mints are Mentha species, and the ones that matter most in the kitchen are usually spearmint and peppermint, plus the many clones and hybrids that slide between them.1 That fuzziness is partly botanical and partly practical: mints hybridize readily, and many cultivated forms spread by runners or rhizomes so aggressively that a planting behaves more like a colony than a tidy herb bed.2
Peppermint is itself a hybrid of water mint and spearmint, while spearmint carries a very different aromatic balance from its cooler cousin.23 Spearmint leans on carvone and other compounds that give it a rounder savory personality, which is why it makes sense in large handfuls with meat, grains, and vegetables. Peppermint is cleaner and colder because it makes menthol, a compound that does not just smell cool but actually triggers temperature-sensitive nerves in the mouth to register a drop in temperature.3
That cooling effect is part of why mint reads so vividly in drinks, sweets, and herb teas, but it also explains mint’s delicacy. Menthol is reactive and degrades with heat, so peppermint in particular is often at its best fresh or infused gently rather than cooked hard.3 In the Northeast, where named mints are easy garden escapees, the ingredient is less a single herb than a toolkit of overlapping aromas that can move from meadowy to candy-like depending on the patch.
Footnotes
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Harold McGee, On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, rev. ed. (Scribner, 2004), PDF p. 417. ↩
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John Vaughan and Catherine Geissler, The New Oxford Book of Food Plants, 2nd ed. (Oxford University Press, 2009), p. 160 (PDF p. 195). ↩ ↩2
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Harold McGee, On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, rev. ed. (Scribner, 2004), PDF pp. 405, 418. ↩ ↩2 ↩3
