Half Manuscript Deadline and Playing with Ingredients

This week I have been a complete catastrophe! Half of my manuscript is due, and I am writing my booty off to make the deadline (broken finger and all). I spent the entire week cooking and writing….and revising and writing again! Being a stress basket aside, I did experiment a bit with some ingredients and wanted to share my findings with you all.

In this photo on the left is sumac, in its whole, dried berry form. I use sumac all the time in za’atar and have only really seen it already ground. I had some thoughts about using it whole but after biting into it I changed my mind. It has a small pit, not unlike a pomegranate, but much tougher since it’s dried. The flavor is incredible though – tart and floral, and I’m happy to grind it and keep it moving.

On the left is hibiscus, and I have been on a full-on West Indian kick this week! Dried hibiscus is called sorrel there and used to make a tart soft drink of the same name, spiced with cinnamon and clove and usually served around the holidays. I played around with it for my dessert section of the book and am pumped about how it all came out.

I also cooked up some oxtail for a pasta dish and killer peas and rice. I have never used a recipe to make nor given much thought about how much of anything goes into these dishes. I’m on automatic when I cook them, so it’s really been interesting for me – translating my body’s memory of cooking into measurements and finite amounts. Does it taste the same? I don’t know!! I’m being crazy – they do….they came out full-flavored and I can’t wait until I see them in the book.

I’m throwing this photo in because I love the stuff and have been messing with it in all sorts of recipes. I’ll just say – you’ll never look at French dressing the same!

Ras El Hanout

Today I’m sharing with you one of the spice blends that is a key part of my cooking arsenal….ras el hanout! This blend hails from Morocco and is used throughout North African cooking. Ras El Hanout quite literally means “top of the shop” and is supposed to represent the most coveted blend the spice merchant has to offer….I like to think of it like a Moroccan curry.

And, like curry, there are countless variations of this North African specialty. My chicken thighs from earlier this week feature one version of this spice blend, but each shop, family, and region has its own list of ingredients sometimes reaching upwards of 40 spices! The flavor is nuanced and complex, a heady mixture that’s difficult to describe. It tastes to me like the smell of walking into a spice shop! Rosebuds may be added for a floral touch, grains of paradise for a peppery note, lavender for aromatic purposes; some spice merchants go so far as to add spices, herbs or other extractions that have aphrodisiac effects…clearly trying to get repeat customers.

That said, my shortened blend from this week is an easy one, and I keep a big batch on hand for summer grilling, to spice up a rice dish or flavor a quick pot of lentils. Ras el hanout is the basis for many a Moroccan tagine and lends itself to a slow braising process. I particularly like it with chicken, pork and certain hearty fish – it benefits from pairing with a meaty base but not one that will overwhelm the combination of delicate flavors. It’s also beautiful with starchy vegetables – particularly squash and corn – where it highlights the vegetables’ own natural sweetness.

Star Anise

This might sound completely idiotic, but I’ve recently been hit over the head with the fact that everyday is a totally subjective monster. What’s everyday to you may be completely foreign to someone else, and so it’s always better to err on the side of giving too much info lest you leave someone out! Recently, I’ve been doing a lot of events and I always keep a bunch of spices out on the table. I’ve noticed that, without fail, star anise seems to draw people in who want to know more about its flavor and how to use it in cooking.

Spidery, little star anise is actually the fruit of an evergreen tree that’s been dried. The spokes of star anise are usually split, revealing a shiny, oblong seed; interestingly enough, the pod has a lot more flavor than the seeds. And what an incredible flavor! Although completely unrelated to aniseed, the flavor is similar with really strong, licorice-like notes. There’s also a woodsy spiciness, not unlike cinnamon or even clove – truly complex and warm and deep. When you inhale the fragrance of the spice, it smells sweeter and more herbal than it tastes. The scent is transporting…

Star anise is a secret weapon, that ingredient you can add to everything from desserts to braises that people won’t be able to identify. I’ve used it in a few sweet dishes on here: a sugar plum sherbet and my Godson’s favorite banana & star anise tapioca pudding (see note below), and I plan to throw it in a mean, super spiced apple pie post apple-picking; it’s ridiculously delicious with vanilla bean, cinnamon and nutmeg . But it’s a beautiful ingredient on the savoury side as well – key in Indian garam masala and Chinese five spice, this spice takes bbq sauce to a new level and is gorgeous in some wine-braised shortribs.

Although beautiful in its whole state, beware that it is extremely difficult to grind star anise to a complete powder without industrial strength. I like to keep some whole ones to throw into liquids as the flavor diffuses easily and also keep some powder for dishes where a ground spice is more appropriate.

Note: Star anise should NOT be confused with Japanese star anise. Star anise (which is the Chinese version that is typically sold for cooking purposes) has long been used to treat colic in babies in many different cultures along with fennel and anise.

Black Cumin

One of my favorite things about the smoked peach chutney I posted earlier this week is the quick, sharp bite of cumin that hits whenever I bite into one of the seeds. I left them whole in the chutney precisely for that reason – I love that subtlety. The chutney inspired me this week to talk about another cumin seed that isn’t featured as prominently in grocery stores as its cousin the traditional cumin seed, called black cumin.

If you google black cumin, a ton of links come up for nigella seeds, which is not correct. Both cumin and black cumin are from the parsley family, and black cumin is simply a darker-colored version of the traditional sort. It looks a lot like caraway and has a slightly different, more milder flavor than traditional cumin. Where cumin has a bit more earthiness and an almost gamey quality, black cumin is sweeter, delicate, with more of the pine-menthol flavors and even a nuttiness. To me, it doesn’t linger as much on the palate as regular cumin.

Another difference from traditional cumin is in its use – how and where it is added to dishes. Rather than being ground to a powder form, black cumin is often left whole. It is generally very lightly toasted, which highlights that nutty flavor even more.

Black cumin is featured in a lot of North Indian, Pakistani, Afghani, and Persian dishes, often referred to as kala jeera or shahi jeera. Rice dishes like biryani benefit from a sprinkling of these seeds, and they are often a first ingredient for curries and stews. I love that they are used in breads and plan to do some black cumin biscuits soon myself. I pretty much use it whenever I want a milder version of cumin, where I want it to highlight but not overpower. Let me know if you’ve ever worked with this spice before!

Dill Seed

I did a little informal poll amongst friends that cook and some chefs I work with and dill seed is one of those spices that is truly under the radar. I wasn’t so surprised – heck, it’s not like I use it on a daily basis, but the reality is that this spice spans everything from our everyday dill pickle to Swedish breads to Ras El Hanout, a popular North African spice blend.

Interestingly enough, these flat, tear-shaped seeds aren’t seeds at all. They are actually the fruits of the dill plant (that gives us that beautiful, feathery herb). The flavor of the seed is definitely stronger than the weed or the herb; it has a sharper bite and none of the leafy sweetness. For me, caraway is the closest taste comparison, and there are also notes of chervil, parsley, and anise, which isn’t surprising since the plants are all in the same family.

I was shocked to find out how many different cultures actually use this spice! It’s hard to pinpoint the origin, but dill is thought to have started off in Eastern Europe, spreading later to the Mediterranean, North Africa, and Asia. Scandinavian cuisines, Russian, Ukrainian (it’s in borscht!) and German all use the spice. In the Middle East and North Africa, the spice is found in pickles, spice blends and salads. Even parts of Asia, Indonesia, and Malaysia, incorporate the spice in everything from meat curries to condiments. In South Asia, dill seeds are added to curries or even cooked like lentils; it’s also part of the spice blend that goes into biryani.

It’s truly a versatile spice and works beautifully in potato salads, vinaigrettes, rice dishes and all types of breads. I’m thinking about working it into a lobster salad along with the herb and a touch of coriander, but it’s also gorgeous in soups and stews (where it softens and becomes toothsome). The seed definitely gets a boost from dry-roasting, but it should be ground to order as the flavor dissipates quickly after being ground. The dill seed from India has a milder flavor than that from other areas, so taste-experiment-repeat where necessary!

Epazote

Modern day foraging in urban areas is not necessarily a new idea. With amazing restaurants like Noma, whose philosophy of foraging the local countryside has defined a new tradition, I’m happy to see how much this trend has been embraced and am looking around for a cool class to take some time this summer. This is only relevant because epazote, an herb that’s popular in Mexican cooking, actually grows wild in Central Park! I need to know what other exotic herbs I can grab from the NYC parks…

Epazote otherwise grows wild throughout Mexico, Central and South America, and Caribbean. Also called American wormseed, I’ve read the Aztec translation of the word actually means “skunk sweat” (which seems like one of the last things I’d like to add to food…). The fresh leaves have a strong, petrol-like smell, but the dried form, here, captures some of the flavor of this herb and works well as a tea to aid in digestion.

In Mexican cooking, epazote is a key ingredient in (amongst others) black bean dishes, Oaxacan mole verde, and mole de epazote, a goat casserole. It’s flavor is distinctive and may require some getting used to. Some describe it as soapy (like cilantro), camphorous, and definitely minty. It’s not something you want to add to raw dishes because it’s so pungent, but it doesn’t require long cooking time either; it does the trick in cooked salsas.

To be completely honest, I have not done a ton of cooking with this herb, but it does add beautiful flavor to my (seriously) beefy chili. I’m also working on a roasted tomatillo salsa recipe into which I slip in a bit. Share with me please! What are your favorite ways to use epazote?

Tunisian Tabil

Quatre épices, berbere, dukkah, baharat, paanch phoron, ras el hanout, Chinese five spice, evencurry…distilling a host of spices into a mix that’s easy to use and embodies the true flavors of a cuisine. Tunisia’s version is called tabil, a word that loosely refers to “seasoning” in Arabic but has now come to mean this coriander-heavy spice blend.

Tabil includes a fragrant blend of (at its most) coriander, caraway, anise, fennel, garlic, red pepper, black pepper, cumin, clove and turmeric, and (oftentimes) some subjective subset of those spices. To mimic the Tunisian sun, homemade versions rely on dry roasting the spices before combining. The blend is used in stews, to flavor meat, poultry, stuffings, soups and vegetables and, besides harissa, is a foundational ingredient in Tunisian cooking.

The first time I tasted tabil, I went straight to the kitchen and made pork meatballs heavily seasoned with it. Amazing. The licorice-y fennel and anise bring out all that’s best in the pork. I also love it with winter or summer squash, sweet root veggies, and to enhance your basic oven-roasted potatoes. On the lighter end, a beautiful mixed green salad with toasted pistachios or pinenuts and citrus work beautifully with a salad dressing using tabil as the base.

There are so many imaginative ways to work in this spice, and although you can grind it to powder form, I’m a fan of leaving it a bit coarsely ground. I love when a red pepper flake or bit of caraway lingers a touch longer after a bite.

Mace

I love this picture! I actually took this while visiting a completely amazing spice farm in Goa. We were walking through the lush forest of trees, examining spice by spice, and here we picked nutmeg and mace. The brownish-black pit is the nutmeg, and the red web or aril is mace.

I was inspired to post about mace by a culturally fantastic article about nutmeg from this month’s Saveur magazine. In it, you can see how nutmeg is used across many cuisines in so many different foods, from savoury West Indian dishes, to American desserts, to Italian greens. And, inextricably intertwined, so it is with mace.

Mace’s flavor is quite similar to nutmeg though I would say a bit more delicate in some ways and stronger in others. The warm, pumpkin pie-ness of nutmeg is a bit tempered here, whereas a peppery quality emerges and kind of hits you in the middle of your tongue. It’s completely versatile like nutmeg, cinnamon or cardamom in that it’s additive to both sweet and savoury dishes. I love to throw it in to soups like a bay leaf and let the flavor permeate the liquid. It’s also delicious in baked goods – biscotti, shortbread. I like it in meat dishes as well – the peppery part picks up so well with beef, pork, or even game.

The crimson red of the mace lace turns to a more burnt orange through drying, but it’s one of those spices, like nutmeg, that retain its flavor well when stored ground. So if you can only find it ground, it will still have great flavor.

Barberries

It’s a serious pastime of mine, perusing the isles of ethnic grocery stores. Some people like antiquing or clothes shopping, I love food markets. It’s like a timewarp – I can spend hours going aisle by aisle, examining spices, bottles, ingredients. I love to find spices I’ve never used, come up with ideas for new dishes, or explore how ingredients work across different cultures.

Barberries were a somewhat recent find that have pried their way into my heart. They are small dried, currant-like berries that come mainly from Iran. They have a serious tartness that reminds me of tamarind, but their flavor is more like that of a raisin. In a pinch, cranberries would make a good substitution for them in a recipe. They have incredibly high levels of vitamin C and so have been well-received into the raw food world. They are super small but pack a lot of flavor into their tiny size.

In Persian and Afghani cuisine, these little guys are added to rice and couscous dishes to add a tarty, fruity burst. They also cook down beautifully to form a jam or jelly. I love them because of their small size – they are perfectly built for inclusion in cookies or suspension in breakfast muffins.

They are also called zereshk, so just be on the lookout if you are shopping for them. Online they can be found on Amazon.

Ajwain Seeds

Ajwain is one of those crossover ingredients in my book. Sure, it’s grown in parts of South Asia and is found throughout that cuisine. But its flavor is actually a lot like thyme. I like to sneak it into classic French dishes or soups, and no one is ever the wiser.

You may have seen ajwain seeds labeled as ajowan, bishop’s weed, or even carum seeds, and it’s actually a member of the parsley family. The leaves are not really used in cooking, and the seeds bear a close resemblance to celery seeds. The seeds contain high levels of thymol, thus their thyme-like flavor. But they have a slight bitterness, even a sharp peppery bite to them.

They go incredibly well with vegetables, lentils and starches. I’m partial to dry-roasting them or even frying them first. It brings out the herbaceous quality in them and mellows most of the bitterness. To me, these seeds were meant to be paired with mushrooms. I make a mean mushroom soup speckled with ajwain – warm, creamy, and complex. I actually am going to do a Southern French pizza-like tart, called a pissaladière, with caramelized onions, mushrooms, and ajwain seeds in the next few weeks and will post that recipe. They are also delicious with roast potatoes or in a green lentil side dish with tomatoes.

This definitely has to be one of the more versatile spices out there. My only caution would be to use sparingly and then add as you see fit. A little goes a long way…

Fenugreek

Fenugreek is like a gift and a curse to me. I love both the seeds and the leaves, but it’s one of those spices that stick. Crushing the leaves between you fingers will leave behind the sweet, celery-like smell, and I always have to douse my hands with lemon juice to get rid of it. And even then…That said, both add such incredible depth of character to dishes, they are staples in my spice pantry.

Fenugreek seeds are small, hard, and rectangular and have a bitter, vegetal flavor. They also have maple syrup-like notes, particularly when toasted. I know – sounds odd, but it’s true. The seeds are generally known to be used in Indian cooking and are a key spice in any given curry; I used them in my South Indian gazpacho. However, they are also used throughout Middle Eastern, North African, and even East African cooking – like in my version of Ethiopian clarified butter. It’s a fantastic spice if used in moderation (ground to a powder), and I actually love it paired with vegetables. It can add amazing flavor to a soup (I’m partial to asparagus), is delicious mixed in with an aioli for a condiment, and great in a dry rub.

The leaves can be either fresh or dried and are a subtler version of the seeds. I’ve actually never used fresh, so I can’t speak to it, but the dried form is incredible. I tend to use the leaves more frequently because they can fold in with other ingredients without overpowering a dish. They have a warm, sweet, grassiness to them, and the uses are never-ending. I love the leaves mixed in with yogurt as a dip for crudités, with any potato or vegetable purée (see my cauliflower one), in salads or dressings, in a dry rub for fish or chicken, to flavor a butter sauce…

I actually pick up my seeds at Dean & Deluca in Manhattan, but very few regular grocers carry it. And the leaves are a bit harder to find. Make sure to store the leaves out of the light – light will lighten the color and leach the flavor from them.

Za’atar – Fresh Herb & Spice Blend

I tried fresh za’atar for the first time a few weeks ago, and it was really surprising – like a taste you recognize but can’t quite put your finger on. When I taste it, I get the pungency of oregano, the woodsiness of thyme, and a zest that reminds me of mint. Za’atar is from the marjoram family, and it’s pretty hard to find fresh. I lucked out with this plant because the Union Square Greenmarket happened to carry it.

Za’atar is not only a fresh herb but also a spice blend used in Middle Eastern cooking. The blend is traditionally comprised of crushed, dried fresh za’atar, toasted sesame seeds, and ground sumac with salt and other spices or herbs. The blend differs from region to region and even from household to household. Lebanese za’atars include orange peel, nigella seeds, and anise, whereas the Syrian version includes roasted cumin and paprika and the Israeli version, dill weed and garlic.

Although za’atar can be found at Middle Eastern groceries and even Whole Foods, using dried or fresh thyme makes a great approximation for homemade variations. Sesame seeds add nuttiness and sumac tartness. In the Middle East, unleavened bread is first dipped in olive oil and then za’atar. It’s awesome as a dip for crudités when mixed with yogurt and sour cream and also makes a versatile spice rub for anything from fish to meats.

Sumac

Sumac is a deep burgundy-colored spice powder made from crushed sumac berries. The flavor is tangy and pleasantly sour with fruit undertones. Sumac trees are found predominantly in the Mediterranean region and throughout the Middle East, and the spice is a staple in Middle Eastern cooking. It is used as a souring agent and is a key ingredient in za’atar.

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