SpiceLines

“Which one do you want back?”

Only Lala would ask a question like that, I thought furiously as I accelerated through a stop sign. It was getting dark and I had drunk enough of her tequila to feel that the mundane issues like traffic signals were beneath me. Even so, my heart lurched when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an black and white police car, lights off but motor running, in a deserted parking lot.

“Calm,” I murmured, gently easing my foot off the pedal as I glided past him. It was dusk and the light was fading, but I could see his head swivel, eyes following the green Alfa, debating whether or not to pounce. If he turned on the siren, he’d have to climb out of his warm Crown Victoria into the frigid winter air. I willed myself into invisibility. He yawned and looked the other way. I drove on.

Which one do you want?

Invisibility is a neat trick if you can manage it. It’s about erasing yourself from the scene. All the great photojournalists know this instinctively. Capa or Eisenstadt could put a camera right in your face and snap the shutter, barely rippling the surface of your attention. And ninjas, of course--they’ve slit your throat before you’ve even noticed they’re in the room.

These days everyone wants the spotlight and there’s not much demand for invisibility. But it’s useful if you’re eluding a snappish, whippet-thin editor steaming towards you at a cocktail party when you’ve missed too many deadlines and have quite answering her e-mails. Clear your mind but stay alert. Move slowly. Fade into the background. It helps to wear black, especially in New York or Milan.

Which one?

The moon was rising through the trees as I turned onto Datura Way. The bare branches swayed in the wind, as if they were rattling the orb in a cage. I didn’t like going down there at night. There are no street lights, and the road curves sharply into the darkened woods. But I was buoyed by too much drink and a surge of determination. I’d been paralyzed for the last five days. Now I would act.

As soon as I pulled into Marco’s parking place and turned off the ignition, my resolve faded. It was the damn place. By day the Pallman Institute is exquisite, all soaring glass, weathered steel and rare woods, set in a clearing in the one of the few remaining patches of old growth forest. By night, though, it is unsettling. Softly illumined like a prismatic lantern, it becomes an eerie glass-walled display case and you're the specimen on view to anyone lurking in the darkness.

Which?

Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself. Out of the car. Up the steps two at time. Swipe the card fast. Glass door swings opens. I’m inside. Door closes behind me with a soft click. Now for the stairs. The pale treads are lit in a way that they seem to float in the air. I ascend--there is no other word for it--past the panoramic black and white photo mural of the snowcapped Andes. I'm on the second floor, surrounded by an expanse of glass. “Roof of the world,” Max had crowed, his big hand resting on my shoulder. Was it really four years ago?

I practically ran across the bridge—more of Max’s quasi-wilderness—to the office wing. Somewhere there was a low electrical hum, but I couldn’t identify it. I flew down the darkened hall--and stopped short.

The door of Marco’s office was ajar. A sliver of light extended across the floor like a slim gold wand. My heart began to thud as I pushed the door open and—I shrieked before I could stop myself. There was that blasted head leering at me. But that wasn’t all—

“Claire,” said a familiar silken voice. "Come in."

“In spite of being rejected, Sharifa has returned continuously to ask for Belqisa. It was not seen as rudeness; on the contrary, it indicated the seriousness of the proposal. Tradition says the mother of a suitor must wear out the soles of her shoes until they are as thin as garlic skin.”

Asne Sierstad, The Bookseller of Kabul, Little Brown, 2003

If only all garlic skins were as paper thin as the soles of Sharifa’s shoes. Unlike the garlic in Afghanistan, what we find here, at least in winter, are giant bulbs with hefty cloves in thick skins so impervious that the unwary cook could easily break a fingernail trying to peel them.

Here’s what to do instead: Remove the outer skins from the bulb and separate the cloves. Place a single clove on a cutting board and press down with the heel of your hand until you feel the skin split. If you are peeling a lot of garlic, you may prefer to place the flat side of your chef’s knife over the clove and again press down hard until the wrapper splits. Or simply smack the clove with flat side of the blade. Whichever method you choose, the garlic peels easily.

The indefatigable testers at Cook’s Illustrated recently tried out several gadgets for peeling garlic. The most alarming was the Chef’n Garlic Peeler, which, at least as pictured, resembles a device one might have encountered in a dungeon during the Spanish Inquisition; it was said to slash the clove “spewing out mutilated (but unpeeled) garlic.” Cook’s favors the E-Z Rol: you slip a clove into a rubber tube and roll on a hard surface; the clove slips out naked and the skin stays in the tube.

The E-Z Rol is a good choice for equipment-lovers with roomy kitchen drawers, or for squeamish cooks who don’t want their hands to smell like garlic. (We think that’s missing all the fun.) Still, we recently peeled 40 cloves in 10 minutes just by whacking the garlic with the side of a heavy knife—and didn’t have to store another gadget.

Editor’s note: For more information on garlic peelers, see Cook’s Illustrated, Number 79, April, 2006, “Equipment Corner,” Garth Clingingsmith, p. 32. Find the Zak Designs E-Z Rol Garlic Peeler ($7.99) and The Book Seller of Kabul at www.amazon.com. Wiilliams-Sonoma sells the E-Z Rol for $9.99 at its stores and on the web, www.williamssonoma.com.

Let’s say that you have a tiny kitchen in which every square inch of space counts. Our last New York apartment, the third floor of a Greek Revival townhouse with 11-foot ceilings and fireplaces in both living and bed rooms, was the occasional scene of cocktail parties for 40. There was a huge walk-in closet with a wall of mirrors that Carrie Bradshaw would die for. But the kitchen was an afterthought: 10 square feet of floor space, enough counter for a cutting board, and 2 narrow cabinets, just right for tea tins and packs of melba toast. (Still, the toile de jouy wallpaper was great.)

Even if you cook in a kitchen with space enough to dock a cabin cruiser, choosing the right spices can be vexing. No one likes to discover aged jars of faded seasonings bought at exorbitant cost and used once. The question is: Which spices would you choose if you were starting over? Which ones would you use for everyday cooking and when you want to experiment with global cuisines?

The Essential Thirteen include: black peppercorns, kosher salt, allspice, Indonesian cassia (or cinnamon) both ground and whole, pure chile powder, cloves, coriander, cumin, ginger, nutmeg, saffron and vanilla. For more information about each, read on.

Editor's note: With just a few exceptions, spices should be purchased whole; the flavor of ground spices fades fast. Large spices such as nutmeg can be grated on a Microplane, the rest can be pulverized as needed in the Krup’s Fast Touch Spice Grinder. Both can be found at www.broadwaypanhandler.com.

1.Black peppercorns: Large Tellicherry peppercorns from India’s Kerala Coast have a rich fruity aroma and a fiery heat. The corollary is that you will need a good pepper mill with an adjustable grind. For recommendations, see SpiceLines newsletter, “Black Pepper: King of Spice,” at www.globalprovince.com/spicelines/index9-05.htm. (Click on SpiceShop, then Pepper Mills.)

2. Kosher salt: Yes, it’s a mineral, not a spice, but you can’t cook without it. Chefs prefer kosher salt because the flaky crystals are lighter than ordinary salt and the flavor quickly disperses through the food during cooking. Save exotic sea salts such as fleur de sel to finish a special dish. We use standard issue Morton’s Kosher Salt.

3. Allspice: Buy whole Jamaican dried berries and grind as needed. With its aroma of cloves and cinnamon, this is a classic if somewhat old-fashioned dessert spice. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Ian Hemphill of Herbies Spices in Sydney suggests stewing pears with a few allspice berries, cinnamon, star anise and a vanilla bean. Try it in savory dishes with meats and seafood, in homemade jerk seasoning and curry powders, and in the peppermill with black peppercorns.

4. Indonesian Cassia, ground: There is a wide world of cinnamon out there, but in America the spice we call “cinnamon” is actually cassia, a close cousin. Specialty spice merchants sell cassia from Indonesia, China and Vietnam—as well as true cinnamon from Ceylon--but the sweet, slightly astringent Indonesian variety is the all-purpose choice. (This is also the familiar “cinnamon” sold in supermarkets.) Use ground cassia in pastries, baked goods and ice cream, and in rubs for chicken, pork and beef.

5. Indonesian Cassia, sticks: “Cinnamon” sticks will add depth to any dish with a liquid base; use them to infuse hot apple cider, soups, stews, braises, curries, tagines, moles, fruit compotes, tomato sauces. Don’t put hard sticks in your spice grinder—the motor may burn out before they are reduced to a powder. If you run short of powdered cinnamon, you can grate a little on a Microplane.

6. Chile powder: Pure ground chile powder, made from dried Mexican chiles, will add more complexity than cayenne pepper to dishes that need a fiery kick. Some chile powders are ferociously hot, some have sweet, fruity or slightly smoky undertones, some are on the mild side. Ancho powder is a not too spicy all-around choice; hotheads will prefer jalapeno or chipotle powders. Use it to season chili, taco meat and posole (a spicy hominy stew) or as a rub, with other spices, for beef, pork and chicken. Find a selection at www.loschileros.com.

7. Cloves: Buy small quantities of whole Madagascar or Ceylon cloves and whirr in a grinder as needed. Whole cloves lend their sweet pungency to holiday hams, and add flavor to beef stews, Indian curries and Moroccan tagines. A recipe for a superb German applesauce cake includes a generous pinch of ground cloves; often combined with other spices for baking purposes. Ground or whole, the flavor is intense, so use judiciously.

8. Coriander: These slightly sweet, warm, citrusy seeds are not widely used in American cooking, but they play well with most spices and are used in curries and other Indian mixtures such as garam masala. We sauté the ground seeds with cumin, garlic and onions to make a warming Indonesian cauliflower soup. The same combination gives lentils a lively lift. In May Bisou’s The Arab Table, red snapper is smeared inside and out with a paste of ground coriander, cinnamon, cumin, cardamom, garlic and lemon juice before baking.

9. Cumin: A warm, pungent, aromatic spice, cumin is used in so many cuisines that we can’t imagine not having it at our fingertips. It’s an essential ingredient in the cooking of Northern Mexico and a must for beef tacos and chicken enchiladas with tomatillo salsa. It is a key component of chili and curry powders. In Morocco, cumin flavors carrot and roasted pepper salads; mechoui, or spit-roasted lamb is traditionally served with saucers of salt and cumin. Buy whole seeds and grind as needed.

10. Ginger, ground: This pungent spice is grown in the tropics from Asia to Hawaii to the Caribbean, but the best ground ginger—sweet, hot and fine as talcum powder--comes from China. In America we use it for baking gingerbread and gingersnaps, or in spice mixtures for cakes, quick breads and pies. Powdered ginger can also be used as a rub for meats, in curry powders and in the French quatre epices, blended with white pepper, nutmeg and cloves, to season charcuterie.

11. Nutmeg: Whole nutmegs can stay fragrant for years if stored in a cool, dark place in an airtight jar; grate them with a microplane as needed. We associate nutmeg’s warm, sweet flavor with desserts and eggnog, but it is delicious sprinkled over homemade macaroni and cheese. The Italians add a pinch of nutmeg to veal and pork dishes; the Dutch, who know a thing or two about nutmeg after a 200-year vise-like grip of the Banda islands, grate the spice over mashed potatoes and cauliflower. Nutmeg sold in America comes from Grenada; the superior Indonesian variety goes to Europe.

12. Saffron: The world’s most expensive spice, with a slightly bitter, very distinctive taste and aroma. The best saffron is said to come from Kashmir and Spain, but much is grown in Iran and repackaged in other countries; buy from a reputable supplier. Infuse crushed saffron threads in a few tablespoons of warm water for 10 minutes, then use to flavor risotto, paella, curries and bouillabaisse.

13. Vanilla extract: Keep on hand a bottle of real Madagascar vanilla extract, such as Nielsen-Massey. Use it in desserts of course, but its sweetness also complements fresh seafood. Jamie Oliver steams sea bass filets with lemon and vanilla; shrimp marinated in vanilla, garlic and onion, then sautéed with jalapenos is a specialty of Veracruz, Mexico.

Every once in a rare while, a singular spice trickles into our world and threatens to spoil us forever. Parameswaran’s White Peppercorns are grown on a small organic family estate on the Wynad plateau in Kerala, a lush coastal region famous for producing India’s finest pepper. Fiercely hot with subtle, musky undertones, these unusually large, creamy white peppercorns have a fresh, sun-warmed flavor unlike any other we've tasted.

White peppercorns are the fruit of the piper nigrum, a tropical vine which flourishes in equatorial sun and rain. At Para’s farm, tucked away in a valley where elephants and tigers may roam, clusters of green pepper berries are left to ripen on the vine until they turn plump and reddish. Pickers may return to each vine a dozen times, scaling the trees on which they grow, using long bamboo poles to pluck only those berries that have reached the perfect stage of readiness. The berries are soaked in 20 changes of spring water for 20 days after which the aromatic outer hulls are removed, revealing a pale but pungent inner core. The white peppercorns are then dried in the sun and vacuum-sealed to preserve freshness before being placed in hand woven bags for shipping.

Gorgeous photos of peppercorns hanging like voluptuous clusters of grapes and colorfully garbed workers can be seen at www.paraspepper.com. Parameswaran’s Special Wynad White Peppercorns, sold in 200-gram bags for $16.95, are at Lobel’s of New York, 1096 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10028. Telephone: 877-783-4512. Web: www.lobels.com. (Lobel’s also sells Parameswaran’s equally extraordinary black peppercorns.)

To read more about peppercorns, see SpiceLines newsletter, “Black Pepper: King of Spice,” at www.globalprovince.com/spicelines/index9-05.htm.

My eyes were riveted on the head. Its sightless eyes, flaring nostrils and blackened skin were horrible, but it was the grinning mouth, sewn shut with strands of coarse thread that dangled from the thin lips, that pulled the scream from my throat. I’d seen it a hundred times, of course, and every time I had to quell a surge of fear. I knew there was a vengeful spirit in there, dying to get out.

Its nickname was Ignacio and it was a gift from Aloycious Underwood, who was now smiling at me as he ever so casually spun around in the chair, even as the forefinger of his right hand moved to the mouse. The computer screen blinked and a triple-tiered Amazonian waterfall began to flow. A flute sounded a long warbling note. Bastard. What was he up to?

To say that Aloycious Underwood is an evil genius is like saying that Nero was a naughty boy. He was the most brilliant and ruthless of Richard Schultes’ students at Harvard, that intergalactic crew that included Andrew Weil and all the daredevil plant explorers. Max Pallman was one of them. He made a fortune in drugs—the medicinal kind—and started the institute as a plush home base for the ethnobotany gang when they weren’t off imbibing hallucinogenic potions and dancing with shamans in the Amazon.

Schultes started it all, of course. Starting in the 1940’s, he spent decades in Columbia researching the way indigenous tribes used medicinal plants. More than 120 plant species and two million acres of rain forest are named after him. But the thing I really liked about Schultes was that the only food he carried were cans of Boston baked beans and instant coffee. I imagined him feasting on beans and insect grubs with the local shaman, then washing it all down with some magic potion.

Well, Schultes is gone, Max is losing his mind, and guess who’s in charge? We had disliked each other from the moment we’d met. It took a while but I finally realized that I had intruded into sacred territory, a strange land inhabited by mentor and mentee, advisor and former student. It had its own coded language and unspoken rituals of shared experience. Girls were not invited, especially girls who write cookbooks and prefer hot showers and 600 thread count sheets to poisonous toads and cups of ayahuasca.

“Claire! Darling! Come in,” he purred. 'You look like you’ve seen the walking dead.”

That’s you, buster. I smiled sweetly. “You surprised me, Al. I didn’t think anyone was here.”

“Oh?” Al raised a skeptical eyebrow and his eyes lazily took me in. “You look…well, ravishing. If I didn’t know better I’d think you had an…assignation.” He smiled, but there was no warmth in his cold green eyes. Those little pauses are like twists of the knife in your back.

“Oh, right. An assignation--with Ignacio.” I tried to laugh, but as the tequila began to wear off, so did the bravado I’d felt earlier. I could see my reflection in the window behind him. I had dressed carefully before going to Lala’s, on the premise that a pretense of sartorial togetherness would cover my fractured psyche. But there was my red hair sticking up, pale skin shiny, white silk shirt—was it unbuttoned? I couldn’t tell—black leather jacket hanging open, jeans. I looked down at my Emma Hope pumps—was that a silk thread unraveling from the embroidered lily? Just great.

Al laughed too, but his gaze was cool and level. “Well if not meeting Ignacio, what are you doing here?”

The lie came smoothly out of my mouth. “Oh, Marco asked me to pick up some files. He’s trying to finish that report he’s been working on. ”

One eyebrow arched. ‘Is he indeed?” I was struck suddenly by how much Al looked like a cat. Blond hair slicked back, his face is oddly triangular, with wide cheekbones tapering to a narrow pointed chin. His eyes are large and heavy-lidded. Was it a trick of the light or were his pupils severely contracted, mere vertical slits behind his horn rimmed glasses?

“So, actually Al, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, nothing really. Just looking for that paper he gave at the conference last year. I can’t find my copy and I’m working on a lecture.” Very smooth, Al. The Institute had only printed a thousand copies of Marco’s study of the Jivaro and their death rituals. The likelihood of not being able to find a copy was slim.

We sat for a moment, each willing the other to leave. Then he yawned a fake yawn and stood up.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, Claire.” He walked to the door and turned. “Oh, and have Marco call me tomorrow.” He smiled mockingly and slipped into the hall.

It was clear that he didn’t believe my little lie, but I didn’t care. That bastard knows something, I thought as I bent over the computer. I clicked on the waterfall and a list of documents appeared. I was searching for one file, the one he kept under the secret name. I moved the cursor down the list. It wasn’t there.

So what had happened to it? Marco must have moved it—or was it Al? Who else knew about the file?

At that moment my cell phone warbled. I looked at the screen. The number was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Hello?” I realized I was practically shouting.

“Claire? This is Linda Marks. I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon.”

Linda lives in the dilapidated white farmhouse down the road. She’s with the police.

“The thing is, there’s a car in the Ennis, outside Hillwood. We need to talk.”

What does black pepper smell like? Pungent, sharp, aromatic and, well, peppery. But how does that differ from white or green pepper? In A Natural History of the Senses, essayist Diane Ackerman describes smell as “the mute sense.” “Lacking a vocabulary,” she writes, “we are left tongue-tied, groping for words in a sea of inarticulate pleasure and exaltation.”

Human beings can smell 10,000 different scents, but most of us would be hard pressed to describe any one of them without comparing it to something else, or even to itself. What does “earthy” smell like? That’s easy. Clay, or wet dirt, or perhaps leaf mold. But how would you describe the heavy scent of tuberoses in the humid night air on the island of Bali? Or the fragrance of cinnamon and cloves simmering in apple cider on a frosty morning? Our reference point in almost every case is either the scent itself—cinnamon or tuberose—or an analogous fragrance—clay or wet soil.

In the world of spices, smell is paramount. It is aroma that tells us, for instance, that Tellicherry peppercorns are dark and bold, while those from Sarawak are lighter and almost lemony. Smell transforms the one-dimensional sense of taste--which registers sweet, sour, salty, bitter and umami (“meaty” or “brothy”)-- into a complex construct that defines flavor. Smell allows the palate to capture the subtle nuances that distinguish one taste from another, not only to tell the difference between wine and water, but between Chateau Lynch Bages and Two Buck Chuck.

When evaluating a product, spice tasters use a special vocabulary to describe flavor and aroma. At The Spice Hunter, an herb and spice company in San Luis Obispo, California, a sensory team has devised a 78-word list of flavor characteristics that they employ in weekly product samplings. Here is a short selection of especially vivid terms:

ANISE: The flavor and aroma of black licorice or fennel. [Licorice, further down the list, is said to taste like anise.]

ASHY: Character of ashes and burnt paper.

BROWN SPICE: Aromatic associated with cloves, cinnamon, mace and nutmeg.

DIRTY SOCKS: A moldy, musty flavor or soured aroma, sharp [A term used to describe white peppercorns that have been improperly dried.]

EARTHY: Soil, clay, mushroom or musty. The flavor of a raw potato peel.

FRESH: Bold, lively, refreshing and brisk.

GREEN: Grassy, unripe, stem-like fresh foliage or new wood.

HEAT: The bite of chili pepper, fresh ginger or black pepper.

MAPLE: A sweet aromatic characterized as woody, caramelized, vanilla-like blend of notes.

MUSTY: Smell of closed air spaces: closets (dry) and basements (wet).

SCORCHED: Sharp, smoky aroma and flavor, burnt.

SILAGE: Fermented hay or straw.

TEA-LIKE: Astringent, tannic, tobacco-like, dry sensation on your tongue.

TINNY: Smell of inside of a tin can or taste of aluminum foil.

WOODY: Pencil shavings, bark chips, green twigs or wood sticks.

Editor’s note: For more on The Spice Hunter, see www.spicehunter.com. We highly recommend Diane Ackerman’s book, A Natural History of the Senses, Vintage Paperbacks, 1995. It is a pleasure to read. Find it at www.amazon.com.

I

Don’t know what Sundays are like at your house, but at ours the morning is pretty leisurely, spent mostly at the kitchen table. Sunlight streams in the back windows, glancing off a pitcher of apricot-cupped Salome daffodils and Grace Tea’s Winey Keemun sends curls of steam from eye-popping blue and white mugs. It’s the weekend’s last refuge from reality.

Eggs, the culinary centerpiece of the morning, offer another kind of escape. Culled from free-running hens, they come scrambled in worldly flavors: with turmeric, coriander and cumin (India), or with serrano chile, cilantro and avocado (Mexico), or with nicoise olives, basil and sweet red pepper (Provence). Each recipe starts with a base of sautéed onions, garlic and tomatoes. From there, add spices and herbs of your choice.

To serve two:

Ingredients for Indian Style Eggs:

4 large eggs
Salt and freshly ground white pepper to taste
1/4 teaspoon turmeric
1/4 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon canola oil
1/2 cup finely chopped onion
1/2 cup finely chopped tomato
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
1 dried red pepper, crumbled
1 tablespoon finely chopped cilantro

Method:

1. In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs with the salt, pepper, turmeric, coriander and cumin. Set aside.

2. Heat a skillet over medium-high heat and add the oil. When the oil is heated through, add the onion, tomato, garlic and dried red pepper. Saute for 3 minutes. Add the cilantro and sauté for another minute, or until most of the juices have evaporated and the onion-tomato mixtue is fairly dry.

3. Turn the heat to high. Whisk the eggs until frothy and pour into the pan. Scramble the eggs with a spatula, mixing and turning to be sure that they are completely cooked.

4. Remove from the pan and serve immediately.

Variations:

Ingredients for Mexican-style Eggs:

4 eggs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon cilantro, finely chopped
1 tablespoon canola oil
1/2 cup finely chopped onions
1/2 cup finely chopped tomatoes
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
1 serrano or jalapeno chile, seeds removed, finely chopped
1 avocado, sliced and sprinkled with lemon juice.

Method:

1. Whisk the eggs, salt, pepper and cilantro in a medium bowl and set aside.
2. Heat the oil in the skillet as directed above. Saute the onions, tomatoes, garlic and chile. Whisk the eggs again, add to the pan and scramble.
3. Serve immediately, garnished with sliced avocado.

Ingredients for Provencal Eggs:

4 large eggs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon chives, finely chopped
1 teaspoon olive oil mixed with 2 teaspoons canola oil
1/2 cup finely chopped onions
1/2 cup finely chopped tomatoes
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
1 tablespoon sweet red pepper, finely chopped
1 teaspoon nicoise olives, pitted and finely chopped
1 tablespoon basil, finely chopped

Method:

1. Whisk the eggs, salt, pepper and chives in a medium bowl and set aside.
2. Heat the oil in the pan as directed above. Saute the onions, tomato, garlic, red pepper and nicoise olives for 3 minutes. Add the basil and sauté one minute more.
3. Whisk the eggs again, add to the pan and scramble. Serve immediately.

This weekend’s edition of The Wall Street Journal cited Jean-George Vongerichten’s five favorite Asian restaurants. (See “Hit List: Jean-Georges’s Spice Tour,” The Wall Street Journal, March 11-12, 2006, p. P2.) With 17 restaurants of his own worldwide, including one in Shanghai and another opening soon in Beijing, the peripatetic celebrity chef likes to sample Asian cuisine wherever he touches down. His passion for Eastern flavors developed during a stint at the Mandarin Oriental in Bangkok and flowered at the original Vong in New York, where he used 150 spices and herbs to create a stunning French-Thai menu. Today, all his restaurants use Asian spices and ingredients.

Where does this master chef get his spice fix? The Journal cites three restaurants in China and Singapore (others include Honmura An in New York and Hakkasan in London):

Shui Hu Ju
68 Peel Street in Soho
Hong Kong
011-852-2869-6927
www.aqua.com.hk

Part of the ultra-chic Aqua group, this intimate restaurant, specializing in rustic Northern Chinese cuisine, is named after a mountain in an ancient fable. The restaurant is heavily atmospheric, with antique wooden doors and traditional dark wood carvings. Mr. Vongerichten’s favorite dish is the deep fried chicken with Szechuan chili; other enticing selections include okra with wasabi and Chinese soy sauce and stewed pork ribs with fennel and northern herbs.

The Whampoa Club
Three on the Bund
No. 3 the Bund
3 Zhong Shan Dong Yi Road
Shanghai
011-86-21-6321-3737
www.threeonthebund.com

The colorful contemporary Whampoa Club is located at Three on the Bund, which also houses Mr. Vongerichten’s own sleek outpost, Jean-Georges, and four other destination restaurants. Chef Jereme Leung does a modern interpretation of Shanghainese cuisine: the house speciality is Su Dong Bo braised pork. Mr. Vongerichten favors “steamed local fish with ginger and scallions;” other choices include Shao Xing marinated live prawns and fresh ginseng roasted chicken.

First Grade Seafood Restaurant
241 Joo Chait Place
Singapore
011-65-644-05560
See www.think.cz/eats2/first_grade_seafood.html for a photo of the black pepper crab

One of Singapore’s famed hawker stalls in Eng Seng Restaurant, First Grade Seafood turns out a stellar version of black pepper crab, considered by many the island’s national dish. Mr. Vongerichten does indeed order the crab; here it is stir-fried with black beans as well as black peppercorns.

Editor’s Note: Hungry, but can’t get to Singapore this week? See Spicelines recipe “Singapore: Thian’s Black Pepper Crab,” posted on February 16, 2006.

Three words: Cool. Dark. Airtight.

Here’s the rationale: Light, heat and air are the enemies of aroma and flavor. Therefore, keep spices in tightly sealed glass jars or tins in a cool, dark pantry, cupboard or drawer. Do not keep them on a rack above the stove or anywhere near a heat source. Do not succumb to the temptation of displaying your spices on the kitchen counter: Yes, they are beautiful, but exposure to light and heat speeds deterioration.

And a fourth commandment: Buy whole spices.

As Harold McGee explains in On Food and Cooking, “the fine particles of ground spices have a large surface area and lose their aroma molecules to the air more rapidly, while whole spices retain the aromas within intact cells.”

So buy whole spices and grind them as needed. Toss ground spices after a few months. Properly stored whole spices can last a year or more, especially black peppercorns, nutmeg and fennel.

See Harold McGee, On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, second edition, Scribner, 2004 at www.amazon.com.

Editor's note: Since this entry was posted, Mary Butler has opened her chocolate shop in Chapel Hill. To see more, go to www.carolinaconfectionery.com.

This is what happens when you decide to become a chocolatier: Your backyard fills up with hundreds of chocolate molds since that’s the best place to wash and dry them. A hulking stainless tempering machine and its baby clone roost in your dining room. And you return from a West Coast research trip with a suitcase full of chocolate. Naturally, friends and neighbors stop by to offer advice and counsel, based, of course, on some serious sampling.

Last Thursday, Mary Butler invited six of us to a chocolate tasting. Mary is owner of Carolina Confectionery, a small chocolaterie which will open soon in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Already famous for her rich, buttery English toffee, she has now set her sights on darker pleasures. A trip to San Francisco’s Farmers Market, home to some of America’s finest chocolatiers, followed by a master class at Cocoa West in British Columbia, sent her home with visions of cacao beans, spices and other exotic flavorings dancing in her head.

This is how we did the tasting: On her kitchen island, Mary laid out around 30 chocolates from eight small, artisanal shops. There was a chocolate teacup and a gold-brushed Mayan mask as well as simple truffles rolled in cocoa and wrapped in colorful tissue paper. Most came with cheat sheets identifying the flavors, but there were a few mystery selections. We were a little shy about getting started, but once Anna cut a truffle six ways and passed it around, the tasters bravely jumped in. Cries of “Let’s try that one!” were followed by a moment’s gustatory meditation, smiles (or frowns), then a palate-clearing sip of cold water.

As it turns out, picking the right flavors to go with chocolate isn’t easy, mainly because taste is so subjective. One of the few clear winners was Michel Recchiuti’s dark chocolate ganache infused with fresh lemon verbena, a perfect balance of citrus and bittersweet cacao. Christopher Elbow’s dark chocolate with aromatic Vietnamese cinnamon pleased some tasters, but others found it too highly spiced. Knipschildt’s Hawaiian Pink Sea Salt Caramel won raves from salt lovers in the group, though others found the large flakey crystals overwhelming.

Good looks weren’t always a guarantee of good flavor: Everyone went wild for Recchiuti’s green apple slices roughly dipped in chocolate, while another artisan’s perfect pyramid failed to impress. Cocoa West hid a wicked caramel-coffee filling in a plain dark chocolate shell. One alarming trend: shiny rainbow-hued white chocolate with fruity flavors—perfect for the pre-teen set, but not for serious chocoholics. But we loved Chocolate Arts’ upscale trail mix bar—a glossy dark chocolate log filled with roasted almonds, dried cranberries and rice crisps. Just the thing to stash in your backpack.

Here are websites for chocolatiers whose wares we sampled:

www.chocolatearts.com
www.cocoabella.com
www.cocoawest.com
www.elbowchocolates.com
www.goldleafchocolatier.com
www.knipschildt.com
www.overthemoon.ca
www.recchiuticonfections.com/

Tomorrow we leave for Mexico, where we’ll see vanilla orchids blooming on plantations in Zamora Gutierrez, Vera Cruz. Look for Spicelines to return, bottles of vanilla in tow, in early April.

SpiceTales will also return in early April, when Claire discovers whose Porsche Carrera is submerged in the Ennis River.