Lovage tastes like celery and parsley combined, but noticeably more intense and spicier than either one. If you’ve ever tasted Maggi seasoning or a rich vegetable bouillon, you’re already in the right neighborhood. This is a bold herb, not a subtle one, and even a leaf or two can transform a dish.
The Core Flavor Profile
The dominant note in lovage is celery, but turned up several notches. Beneath that, you’ll catch parsley-like green freshness and a citrusy zing that gives it some brightness. The overall effect is savory and deep, closer to a concentrated broth flavor than what you’d expect from a leafy herb. Crushing the stems or leaves releases an aroma that immediately calls celery to mind, but with a warm, almost peppery edge that celery never delivers.
Lovage seeds are worth mentioning separately. They look and taste remarkably similar to what’s sold as “celery seed” in the spice aisle, which makes sense given how closely the two plants are related in flavor.
Why It’s Called the “Maggi Herb”
In Germany, the Netherlands, and Denmark, lovage goes by names that translate to “Maggi herb” (Maggikraut in German, maggikruid in Dutch) because its flavor is so similar to Maggi seasoning sauce. The resemblance is strong enough that many people assume Maggi contains lovage, but it actually doesn’t. The overlap comes from related but distinct compounds: lovage gets its savory depth from a compound called sotolon, while Maggi’s flavor comes from a close chemical cousin found in hydrolyzed vegetable protein. The result is that lovage tastes like a natural, herbal version of bouillon concentrate.
How Strong It Really Is
Lovage is not a shy herb. One or two chopped leaves is a reasonable starting point for an entire dish, and any more than that can easily overwhelm everything else in the pot. If you’re used to tossing in generous handfuls of parsley or basil, lovage requires a complete recalibration. Think of it more like rosemary or thyme in terms of potency, where a little goes a long way.
The plant’s intensity also changes through the growing season. Young spring and early summer leaves have the cleanest, most balanced flavor. Once the plant starts to flower in late summer, the leaves turn noticeably bitter. If you’re growing lovage, removing the flower stalks as they form keeps the leaves mild and usable for longer.
Fresh vs. Dried vs. Cooked
Fresh lovage has the strongest, most complex flavor. Slicing a few raw leaves into potato soup or chicken broth is one of the simplest ways to experience what the herb can do. It also works well minced into a base of carrot, onion, celery, and garlic as a foundation for soups, beans, or greens.
Dried lovage loses some intensity compared to fresh, but unlike dried parsley (which is practically flavorless), dried lovage retains a strong, usable bite. It’s a practical way to preserve a large harvest and works especially well stirred into soups and stews. Lovage also freezes well. Blanching the leaves for a few seconds in boiling water, cooling them quickly, and storing them in bags keeps the flavor intact for months.
In cooked dishes, lovage holds up well to heat, which is why it’s a natural fit for long-simmered recipes like goulash, sauerkraut dishes, and Eastern European sour soups. For a lighter touch, you can bundle whole leaves into an herb bouquet and remove them after cooking, which gives a more subtle background flavor rather than the full punch of chopped leaves stirred in.
What to Use If You Can’t Find Lovage
Nothing perfectly replicates lovage, but you can get close. Combine celery (preferably the inner stalks and leaves, which are more flavorful), fresh parsley, a pinch of celery seed, and a small amount of lemon zest. Together, these ingredients approximate the savory depth, green freshness, and citrus edge that lovage delivers on its own. You’ll still be missing that concentrated, almost bouillon-like intensity, but the combination puts you in the same general territory.
Going the other direction, if a recipe calls for celery leaf or parsley and you have lovage on hand, use it sparingly. A fraction of the amount will deliver more flavor than the original ingredient would have.