SpiceLines

One of the pleasures of having an embarrassment of lavender in the summer garden is thinking up new ways to use it. The sturdy, square stems of Lavender “Grosso,” for instance, make perfect skewers for grilled shrimp. Marinated in lemon juice, olive oil and garlic and briefly charred over a hardwood charcoal fire, the shrimp come to the table tasting of smoke, the salty tang of the ocean and just a hint of sweet, faintly camphorous lavender flavor. You could also substitute boneless chicken thighs or chunks of lamb for the shrimp.

To serve 4

Ingredients:

1 pound large shrimp in their shells
Juice of 1 or 2 lemons
Olive oil
2 large cloves of garlic, finely chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
A pinch of fresh or dried culinary lavender flowers

6 sturdy stems of fresh or dried lavender, about 10 inches long (see note)

Method:

1. Devein the shrimp by cutting down the backs of their shells with a sharp paring knife. Rinse and pat dry. Do not remove the shells or the legs.
2. In a large bowl, combine the lemon juice, olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper and lavender flowers. Add the shrimp, mix well and set aside to marinate.
3. Soak the fresh or dried lavender stems in water for 5 minutes. Remove and pat dry.
4. In your grill, build a fire of hardwood charcoal. When the coals are hot but no longer flaming, thread the shrimp onto the lavender skewers and place them on the grill. Cover and cook for 2 minutes, turn and cook for 2 to 3 minutes more, or until the shrimp are opaque and the shells are just slightly charred.
5. Serve each person a skewer of shrimp, along with 2 or 3 more shrimp that have been removed from the remaining lavender stems. Accompany the shrimp with a simple salad of mixed lettuces in a vinaigrette and ears of sweet corn grilled in their husks.

Note: Dried culinary lavender and bundles of dried lavender stems may be ordered from www.sunshinelavenderfarm.com.

The new American palate craves spices of all nations. A zillion salsas line the grocery shelves. Chipotle chile-spiked mayonnaise? Been there, done that. Thai green and red curries? Check. Fiery wasabi for your sushi? Ditto. America’s most popular herb blend? Herbes de provence, of course.

Yet on the Fourth of July, after we hung the red, white and blue and bought the sparklers and bottle rockets, our own thoughts—and maybe yours—began to run in a more traditional vein. On our nation’s 230th birthday, we wanted familiar, down home food: fresh sweet corn and tomatoes from our local farmer’s market, pork from Niman Ranch. As smoke billowed from backyard barbeques to the left and the right of us, we gave into the primal urge for food cooked over fire.

One way to align these divergent desires is to give traditional fare like pork ribs and corn on the cob a global spin. Inspired by a great recipe for Asian-style pork belly from Zak Pelaccio. chef at the Fatty Crab in New York--it ran in The Wall Street Journal in January 2006, but our clipping, alas, has vanished--we concocted a rib marinade of kecap manis (Indonesian sweet soy sauce flavored with star anise and garlic), Chinese hoisin sauce, ordinary soy sauce, and rice wine vinegar, with more garlic and some ginger thrown in for good measure. Marinated overnight and grilled over a fire of hardwood charcoal, the meaty slab of ribs was rich and succulent, with a crackling, slightly sweet, charred crust. (To prove our first point, all these ingredients can be found in the supermarket, with the possible exception of the kecap manis--that we bought at our local oriental market.)

The corn couldn’t be easier or more delicious. We’ve eaten it a hundred times in Mexico, where street vendors grill whole ears, shucks intact, on little charcoal braziers. Rubbed with lime and sprinkled with salt and ground red chile powder, the corn is a jumble of irresistible flavors—sweet, smoky, fiery with a touch of citrus and salt.

Accompany this feast with a salad of sliced heirloom tomatoes, cucumber and slender carrots in a light vinaigrette—don’t forget the ice tea or lemonade with fresh mint—and you have an All-American feast that pleases the palate with a nod to our culinary melting pot.

Grilled Pork Ribs in Sweet Soy Sauce, Garlic and Ginger
(adapted from a recipe by Zak Pelaccio, The Fatty Crab, New York)

To serve 6:

Ingredients for the pork:

3-1/2 pounds pork ribs in one slab, cut in half
1 cup kecap manis (see note)
1 cup hoisin sauce
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
1 tablespoon grated ginger
1 tablespoon grated garlic

1 tablespoon canola oil

Ingredients for the corn:

12 ears fresh corn in the husk
Salt
Ground red chile powder
Wedges of lime

Method:

1. One day before, combine all the marinade ingredients (except the canola oil) in a bowl and mix well. Place the ribs in a gallon size ziplock bag, pour in the marinade, and seal tightly (use a second bag if necessary to prevent leaks). Refrigerate overnight, turning several times.
2. The next day, when you are ready to cook, make a large hardwood charcoal fire on one side of your grill. Remove the pork ribs from the marinade, pat dry and rub with the canola oil. Discard the marinade.
3. When the coal are red hot but no longer flaming, place the ribs, bone side down, on the grill away from the coals. Cover and cook for 8 minutes. Turn and cook for 8 minutes more. Turn again and cook for a final 6 to 8 minutes. Remove the ribs from the grill and let them rest, loosely covered with aluminum foil, for 10 to 15 minutes.
4. While the ribs are cooking, remove the tough, outermost layer of the corn husks, leaving the tender inner leaves attached to the base of each ear. Gently peel these leaves back and remove the corn silk. Pull the inner leaves back over the corn so that the kernels are loosely covered.
5. After the ribs are cooked, put the corn on the grill directly over the coals which should now be only moderately hot. Cover and cook for 15 to 20 minutes, turning every 5 minutes. The corn husks will blacken and the kernels should be slightly charred.
6. To serve, cut the slabs of pork ribs into individual ribs and pile them on a platter. Serve the corn on a separate platter, accompanied by small bowls of salt and ground red chile powder and wedges of lime. Accompany with a salad of heirloom tomatoes, cucumbers and carrots in a light vinaigrette, and ice tea or lemonade with fresh mint.

Note: Kecap manis can be found at Asian markets, or ordered from www.adrianascaravan.com.

Lots of lavender in the garden and the spirit of invention has led to some late night ice cream making marathons. But, like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, I couldn’t come up with a lavender-scented ice cream that was quite right. Several batches were so flowery that no one could eat them, others—especially those with custard bases—were simply strange when combined with lavender’s camphorous edge. Gallons of milk, quarts of cream, lots of sugar and eggs, and handfuls of lavender—all went down the drain, usually around 2 A.M.

Then Serendipity, just back from France, said, “Mom, I really don’t want to eat lavender ice cream. Mix it with some citrus.” Out of the mouths of babes, especially 20-year-olds, breezing through the kitchen…

She was thinking grapefruit, but I was thinking lemon. Lemon and lavender are a lovely blend of flavors, especially in the dog days of summer. When making ice cream, the secret is to keep all these ingredients in balance—milk with not too much cream, grated lemon zest, a modest amount of lavender, and less sugar than you might imagine. If an ice cream can be described as “sunny,” this is it: bright, sweet, tart and then, that mysterious taste of the flower.

Merci, Serendipity…next we’ll try the grapefruit. Perhaps an ice?

Lemon and Lavender Ice Cream

To make one quart

Ingredients:

3 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
8 fresh lavender blossoms, organic (unsprayed)
Grated zest of 1 lemon, or to taste

Method:

1. In a large saucepan, gently heat the milk, cream and sugar, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Add the lavender blossoms and continue to heat until the mixture is very hot. (Do not boil.) Remove from the flame and stir in the grated zest of 1 lemon. Let the mixture steep for 30 to 60 minutes, tasting occasionally to be sure that the lavender flavor does not become overpowering. If desired, add more lemon zest.
2. Strain the mixture into a large bowl, cover with aluminum foil and refrigerate until very cold, at least three to four hours.
3. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s directions. This ice cream is best if served immediately after freezing.

It’s 9:25 A.M. on July 9 and I’m pulling up in a cab in front of the Javits Center on New York’s West Side, just blocks from Manganaro’s, home of the six-food Heroboy sandwich. I’m headed inside to discover what’s new in the world of spice at the National Association for the Specialty Food Trade’s 52nd Summer Fancy Food Show.

“This three-day event will feature 300,000 square feet of exhibit space filled with more than 160,000 specialty food and beverage products from more than 1,800 domestic exhibitors and 500 international companies,” says Mayor Bloomberg in his welcome message on page one of the 3/4-inch thick directory. Translation: There will be more food to taste than any sane person could possibly ingest. But I’m willing to try.

Here’s what happening now:

9:28: Glass and steel lobby of the Javits Center, amid a mad swirl of Starbucks-toting, suitcase-lugging buyers fast-walking into the show. I ring Rick Field of Rick’s Picks, a Brooklyn-based gourmet pickle company whose GT 1000 curried green tomato pickles made the Saveur 100 list for 2006. www.rickspicksnyc.com

Rick gave up TV production to follow his bliss—which turned out to be dill. We’ve never met. “How will I know you?” I shout into my phone over the din. “I’m the guy dressed in…..” I lose him, but wait where I think he tells me to, at the main entrance.

9:31: Still waiting.

9:32: My cell vibrates. “I can’t find you,” says Rick. “Where are you?” I turn to see a tallish guy dressed in pickle-green tee-shirt and suede sneakers, plaid cap brim-backwards, waving at me from the far end of the lobby. I wave back.

9:35: Rick’s booth in the show’s New York section is clean and spare, with jars of sassily named pickles lined up on the counter. His gang of three is busy setting out samples of Pepipep Peps, pickled red peppers with garlic and ginger. They’re tangy with the sweetness of ripe Bell red peppers.

All Rick’s Picks have clever names, like Kool Gherks (gherkins, dill flowers, chili peppers, garlic, dill seed) and Windy City Wasabeans (green beans, soy-wasabi brine). Though he likes to describe himself as a fanatical Brooklyn pickle-maker he’s also a Yale grad and former PBS producer for Bill Moyers--a.k.a. natural wordsmith and schmoozer of the first order.

9:39: Notice a vase of enormous buds and gently twisted stems on the counter. “What’s with the garlic scapes?” I ask. Rick produces a big, unlabeled jar of pickles. “We stayed up late making these. The scapes came from an organic farmer in the Hudson Valley,” he says. “We packed them with lemon cucumbers, lemon thyme, green peppercorns—sort of emulating the spirit of béarnaise sauce in a pickle. It’s a conversation piece when chefs stop by.”

Rick Field and his pickling crew at the New York Fancy Food show.

9:46: I take a photo of Rick and his crew.

9:52: The buzz is building, aisles are getting crowded, show’s about to open. A starry-eyed, curly haired buyer stops at Rick’s counter. “How are you? It’s been a while….” Rick turns on the mega-watt charm. “You look fabulous..”

Time to get on to the main event. Here’s what I’m tasting now:

10:01: “Bet you guys never tasted jack fruit before!” Buyers shuffle nervously. “It’s kind of like banana and mango.” I wedge my way in. Bowls of really sweet crispy dried tropical fruit chips.

10:16: Ciao Bella Gelato. Beautiful blood orange sorbet. Sweet, light, perfect for summer. Flavor of fresh oranges and an appealing bitter edge. www.ciaobellagelato.com

10:22: Cookbook author Laxmi Hiremath (Dance of Spices, John Wiley & Sons, 2005) looks serious as she fills small bowls with her new healthy organic flax seed spreads. Really thick. Date, ginger and salty, spicy sundried tomato. “Great on crackers,” she says offering a taste. “I have your cookbook,” I tell her. “I hope you’re using it,” she says with a slight wrinkle of the forehead. www.laxmisdelights.com

10:25: Taste of Malacca. Tiny plates of chicken tikka masala, made from one of four Indian Spice Blends. “You can cook a pound of chicken fast and serve it over rice” says a rep. It’s tasty, actually, something I could make for a quick post-lacrosse-game dinner. www.tasteofmalacca.com

10:27: Susheela Raghavan, a food technologist and founder of Taste of Malacca, shows me a reference book she wrote: Handbook of Spices, Seasonings and Flavorings (CRC Press, 2000). I check the price: $131.95. “We’re raffling a copy during the show if you let us swipe your badge,” she says. I let her swipe it.

Ami Nakanishi displays Benimosu's delectable purple sweet potato vinegar.

10:36: Great discovery: Benimosu vinegar from the Iio Jozo (Brewery) Rice Vinegar Company. Color of bright red strawberries. Plain gold capped bottle with elegant Japanese calligraphy on the label. Made from fermented purple sweet potatos and rice, aged for a year. So soft and mild that you could almost drink it over ice; just enough acidity to make a lovely vinaigrette for salads or fresh vegetables. Rep Ami Nakanishi touts health benefits: “Lot of polyphenols. We’ll be in Whole Foods very, very soon.”
www.nymtc.com

10:43: Creamy Thai tea with a scary chemical aftertaste. A tall buyer sticks his nose in a cup and deliberates: “Really interesting brew.”

10:45: Got grits? Blonde Atlanta ladies hawking tiny cheddar cheese biscuits made with grits. Yummy. In her previous life, owner Diane Pfeifer was a back up singer for Tammy Wynette. www.gritsbits.com

10:49: Screeching halt in front of Vosges Chocolat. Sample bittersweet Calindia bar with green cardamom and walnuts, white chocolate D’Olivia bar with Kalamata olives, exotic caramels with rosewater and pink peppercorns. Going into sugar shock now…
www.vosgeschocolate.com

10:55: Boisterous, regrettably unprintable conversation at K.L. Keller. Total foodie magnet. Importers of artisanal Leblanc oils, lavender honey, membrillo (quince paste), sel gris, to-die-for vinegars and olive oils, all from France and Spain. Sample a sprinkle of really fresh, sweet-hot ground piment d’espelette, legendary Basque red pepper on the cusp of its 15 minutes of fame. Next: Pedro Ximenez (PX) Cream Sherry Vinegar. (“For you, I’ll open the bottle!”) Classic sweet-sour agredolce with succulent sherry undertones. This one I could drink neat. “Are you one of those people who think Picual olive oil tastes like (expletive deleted)?” Sip Castillo De Canena Picual EVO—love its buttery round flavor, faintly bitter edge. Guess I’m not one of them. Crave all three for my pantry. www.klkellerimports.com

11:01: Spicy noodles, something strange with banana in a lettuce leaf.

11:07: Entering Chinese territory. Vendors sitting around looking glum. At Linyi Native Produce and Animal Byproducts Group, peruse dishes of dried garlic flakes, garlic granules, garlic powder, horseradish powder, ginger powder. Ask if I can taste a garlic flake. Vendor hesitates, then nods. So fiery hot that it nearly blisters the skin off my tongue.
www.driedgarlic.cn

11:09: Desperately seeking a glass of water, pursued by Chinese dehydrated vegetable reps waving glossy brochures.

11:12: Gobbling sheep’s milk cheese with black truffle paste. Quells the garlic fire, can’t taste the truffles.

11:28: Ina Garten works the crowd at The Barefoot Contessa. Sits regally on a stool, posing for pictures. Buyers paying homage with business cards and, yes, slightly bowed heads. Sample a coffee-flavored brownie, actually pretty good.
www.barefootcontessa.com

11:36: A cheery gent passes around shrimp on a skewer. New concept; Seasoned skewers--Indian Mango Curry, Mexican Fiesta, Thai Coconut Lime--infuse flavor into grilled food. Brainchild of old Seattle company (100-year old mint oil manufacturer). “We challenged our scientists to come up with something new and this was it,” chirps a Callison’s rep. This item is getting a lot of attention. www.seasonedskewers.com

11:41: Passing by Raye’s Mustard Mill where bowls of stone ground mustards are arrayed. Wholesome 106-year old Maine company, still grinds mustard seed the old-fashioned way. Note to the family mustard fanatic: Let's upgrade with Raye’s Down East Schooner, yellow ballpark-style mustard, 2006 gold medal winner at Napa Valley World-Wide Mustard Competition. www.rayesmustard.com

John Tumiwa from D'Java Spices shows off Indonesian cinnamon and vanilla beans.

11:48: A cheerful John Tumiwa from D’Java Spices brandishes a fistful of Indonesian vanilla beans. Mainly a wholesaler to big spice companies. My eye catches a display bag of thick-barked cassia (a.k.a. cinnamon) sticks, each over an inch in diameter. “From a 25-year old tree!” he exclaims. “From our own plantation! You want to see cinnamon growing? I’ll take you there!” I love Indonesia. This is tempting, very tempting…. www.javaspices.com

11:56: A dark-eyed man runs after me and presses a 2-pound bag of basmati rice into my hands. “Try it! It’s the best!” Time for a break. Oh wait, is that La Cremailliere's ice cream?

Editor’s note: See part 2 of the New York Fancy Food Show Diary soon.

12:02: Back at Rick’s Picks, two buxom, silver-haired buyers nibble Bee’n’ Beez “turbocharged” bread and butter pickles. One woman eyes Rick sternly and in a deep Southern accent says: “Where we’re from we wouldn’t call these bread and butter pickles…” “You’re right, of course,” Rick agrees smoothly. As I edge off, he’s spinning a web baited with dried cherries, ginger and coconut… www.rickspicksnyc.com

12:03: Next door a ravenous crowd is clustered around Creme Cremaillere, eager for licks of the venerable Westchester restaurant’s newish line of French custard ice creams. Hmmm…what to choose…there’s crème brulee, mango sorbet…Lavender honey, a hard-to-get right-flavor, is mellow, with just a hint of the flower. www.cremecremaillere.com

At Lotus Foods, Ken Lee serves a dish of Kalijira basmati-style rice.

12:07: Ken Lee, a founder of Lotus Foods, presides graciously at a low table of exotic rice. Cooked, of course. “Sit down. Please,” he smiles benignly. I already love the red rice from Bhutan, but what’s that pale green stuff? “Bamboo rice. They extract the juice from young bamboo and use it to infuse sushi-style pearl rice.” It’s subtle, with a delicate vegetal flavor that would in fact be great with raw tuna or salmon. Neat non-stick rice cookers, by the way. www.aworldofrice.com

12:13: At Dagoba Organic Chocolate, plates of slivered single origin bars, bowls of cocoa nibs. Peruvian Milagros, 68% cacao, has a beguiling, mildly fruity taste. “It’s from a co-op in the rainforest. You’re tasting banana and orchids that grow alongside the cacao trees,” says a helpful young man. I inhale a handful of Xocolatl nibs flavored, Aztec-style, with chilies and nearly choke as the peppers grab at my throat. “Gosh, are you OK?” asks the rep worriedly, passing me a plate of mint-flavored dark chocolate as an antidote. “I guess we’re still refining the formula.” www.dagobachocolate.com

12:20: Heading upstairs now. Huge, intimidating corporate pavilions from France and Italy. Bottles of wine, olive oil, pasta, showcased like perfume and cameras in duty free shops. I pass tables of sleekly coiffed, dark-suited men and women deep in meaningful conversation. Not many samples here.

12:26: Veering off into the Jordanian quarter. At one booth an olive oil is acidic with a bitter bite. But there’s a tempting bowl of za’atar, a thyme-like herb with sesame seeds and powdered sumac, for mixing with olive oil and hunks of bread for dipping. “Not for sale,” says the rep regretfully.

A quartz-like chunk of Himalayan crystal salt is displayed at Chef Stefan's booth.

12:37: Nearly trip over a huge chunk of pink Himalayan crystal salt. Chef Stefan is waxing eloquent about flat disks made of the same stuff. “You don’t even have to salt your food. Just put it on the plate and it’ll absorb the taste of the salt!” Stefan is seriously into salt: His bestselling kit includes exotic salts from Australia, Hawaii, the Dead Sea, Trapani and other parts of the saline world. www.saltsoftheworld.com

12:43: Is that Carmen Miranda in a banana headdress?

12:48: Cheery Hawaiian girls dishing out Bubbies Homemade Mochi Ice Cream from a refrigerated cart. Bubbies made the coveted “O” List in June, 2006. I’m munching on a “bitesize, delectable one and a quarter ounce ball of happiness”—that is to say, a rounded scoop of creamy lihing mango ice cream in an edible sweet rice wrapper. Have consumed 5,000 calories in the last three hours. www.bubbiesicecream.gourmetfoodmall.com

1:02: Natural handmade Lithuanian dark rye. Sour, dense, chewy with aromatic pumpernickel seeds.

1:09: The world does not need another sauce.

1:12: Quaffing a bottle of Ferrarelle, notice everyone is watching World Cup Soccer on TV.

1:15: The world does not need another olive.

1:17: Adorable perline—tiny “pearls” of buffalo mozzarella. Creamy.

1:19: “That’s some smelly cheese,” says a woman, spearing a hunk of overripe French cheese covered with big, black flies. Surely she’s not going to eat it…

1:20: She eats it.

1:24: Retracting previous statement about olives. Exquisite fresh olives, some flavored with herbs, made by the Arnauds, a third generation Provencal family. Love the flesh-colored tournante olives, pale green early harvest olives with lemon, delicately flavored lou pistou…. Want to take the entire table home with me. Reason #942 to go to Provence… www.olives-arnaud.com/UK/index2.html

1:31: Chatting with Morton Gothelf of Morton & Bassett Spices in San Francisco. Morton has laid out samples of his own intensely pungent vibrant green bay leaves and the decidedly lackluster, brownish leaves of a much larger competitor. “That’s the difference between paying $60 a pound and $3 a pound,” he explains with a fierce smile. I sniff a jar of his Herbs from Provence: Dreamy, like falling into a bed of fresh rosemary, thyme and lavender. www.mortonbassett.com

1:42: Everyone suddenly has chocolate lollipops plastered with photo labels of their own faces.

1:49: A crowd on the other side of the floor roars. France has just scored.

1:56: Purveyor of gourmet dog food, not giving out samples.

1:59: Purely Organic CEO Carl Jorgenson is passing out tiny paper cups of pink Magliano Siroppe di Rose (rose syrup) from Tuscany. “It’s made by a woman who grows antique Gallica roses in the Chianti Hills. She harvests them in the morning when the fragrance is strongest and takes the petals into her kitchen laboratory where she cooks them in sugar syrup.” Sheer bliss, like drinking sweet rose essence. Jorgenson has a million ideas for using the syrup syrup: over vanilla ice cream or lemon sorbet, in cheesecake or panna cotta, with chilled champagne…this is a must-have.
www.purelyorganic.com

2:09: At the France Terre de Cultures pavilion, no one is remotely thinking about food. It’s soccer, soccer, soccer, with flat screen TVS set up at every other booth. Throngs of fans blockade the aisles, everyone shouting each time the Italians come close to scoring against the home team. Naturally, similar scenes are being played out on the Italian side of the floor.

(To see what everyone was watching—and for great commentary on the 2006 World Cup go to www.soccerblog.com )

2:10: Even everyone at Valrhona is glued to the TV. But there is wondrous chocolate to try, especially the addictive strips of candied orange zest dipped in bittersweet chocolate. www.valrhona.com

2:13: At D’Artagnan, straw baskets are brimming with the most fabulous fresh mushrooms, from black summer truffles and chantarelles to furry-gilled hedgehog and blue foot mushrooms. Fat white asparagus is tucked into this gorgeous display, which absolutely everyone is ignoring in favor of the soccer match. Nearby, Pain Poilane and pots of foie gras languish unheeded…
www.dartagnan.com

2:15: Back to Valrhona for more chocolate-covered orange zest…

2:17: Narrowly evade rep pushing rambutan in pineapple syrup…

2:24: One more visit to Valrhona…

2:26: Do I want to try pink guava nectar?

2:27: No.

2:32: I’m done. Out of service taxis, garbage cans, dead plants on the sidewalk. Back to the real world…

Whole heads of garlic, baked in a terra cotta cooker, become sweet and nutty-tasting.

If your farmer’s market is like ours, right now there are tempting baskets brimming with whole heads of fresh garlic. Just last week I came away with bulbs of Music, an easy to peel porcelain hard neck, and heads of purple striped Guatemalan, one of the best varieties for roasting. As much as I love garlic raw in salsas, salads and marinades, I adore the mellow, caramel flavor of garlic baked in the oven.

When you bake or roast garlic, a near miraculous transformation occurs. The sulphuric compounds that give raw allium its pungency are muted, lulled to sleep, as it were, by the vapors of slow, steady heat. The hard cloves become soft and squishy, and the natural sugars are coaxed out of hiding. After an hour or so, the garlic can be squeezed right out of its papery husk, and its flavor is sweet and nutty, only faintly reminiscent of the raw clove’s searing bite.

One of the best ways to roast garlic is in a domed terra cotta cooker, such as the large Garlic Baker made by Fox Run Craftsmen. The glazed base is 7 inches in diameter, which means that you can roast five or more bulbs of garlic at a time. The lid has a garlic bulb as a handle and a tiny hole for steam. To prepare the garlic, I rub off some of its outer leaves, slice about one-quarter inch off the tops and drizzle with a little olive oil. Sometimes I sprinkle the cloves with salt and pepper and add a sprig of thyme or rosemary from the garden.

Roasted garlic is so luscious that you will probably find yourself standing up in the kitchen, squeezing one nutty-tasting clove after another into your mouth. (This is a good reason to bake four or five heads at once.) It is delicious served as an accompaniment to grilled meats and vegetables or on roughly torn pieces of warm baguette that have been dipped into olive oil. Or whisk a couple of tablespoons into a vinaigrette for salads. The same vinaigrette can be spooned over grilled salmon or mixed with lentils.

The Fox Run Garlic Baker (or similar terra cotta cookers) can be found at kitchenware stores. On the web, order it from www.cookscorner.com for $7.99. (Enter “garlic baker” in the search box.)

Recipe: Whole Roasted Garlic

Ingredients:

4 to 5 whole garlic bulbs
Olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Fresh or dried thyme or rosemary

A terra cotta garlic baker (or small glass baking dish and aluminum foil to cover)

Method:

1. Using your thumbs, gently rub off several layers of the papery outer leaves covering each head of garlic. Slice about 1/4-inch off the top of each head, and prick the tops of the cloves with the tines of a fork.
2. Place the heads of garlic on the base of the terra cotta baker (or in the baking dish) and drizzle the tops with a little olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste and with fresh or dried herbs, if desired. Cover with the lid of the baker. (If using a baking dish, cover tightly with aluminum foil.)
3. If using a terracotta baker, follow the manufacturer’s instructions: Place the covered baker in a cold oven. Turn the oven temperature to 300 degrees. Bake for one hour or until the cloves have softened. Remove the top, and bake for 20 minutes more, or until the heads of garlic are very slightly browned.
(If using a baking dish, bake at 300 degrees for one hour, or until the garlic has softened. Remove the aluminum foil and continue baking until the garlic has browned slightly.)
4. Serve each person one head of roasted garlic while it is still warm: Squeeze the garlic onto grilled meats or vegetables, or onto chunks of torn baguette dipped in olive oil.
5. If making a vinaigrette, squeeze the cloves out of their papery husks while still warm and mash to a paste in a mortar and pestle. Set aside until ready to use.

Roasted cloves from four heads of garlic will yield half a cup of garlic paste.

Once you’ve roasted a few heads of garlic, smash the softened cloves into a paste using a mortar and pestle, and then whisk the paste into a white balsamic vinaigrette. (One head of roasted garlic will yield a tablespoon or more of garlic paste.) Drizzle this luscious dressing over grilled salmon, cold roasted lamb or a salad of boiled new potatoes, and you have catapulted the mundane into the sublime.

Although I usually think of earthy-tasting Le Puy lentils, grown in the volcanic soil of the Auvergne in France, as a perfect fall or winter dish, these tiny, dark green legumes are delicious in summer when served at room temperature with a roasted garlic vinaigrette brightened with fresh basil and mint. You can use the same vinaigrette in cold weather: Just omit the herbs and add thick, smoky bacon to the mix.

Serves 4 as a side dish:

Ingredients for the vinaigrette:

1/4 cup white balsamic vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons roasted garlic paste
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil

Ingredients for the lentils:

1 cup Le Puy or French green lentils (see note)
1-1/2 tablespoons fresh spicy globe basil (or other basil), finely chopped
1-1/2 tablespoons fresh mint, finely chopped

Method for the vinaigrette:

In a bowl, combine the vinegar, salt and pepper. Whisk in the roasted garlic paste and set aside for 10 to 15 minutes. Whisk in the olive oil.

Method for the lentils:

1. Rinse the lentils in cold running water. In a medium saucepan, combine the lentils with 3 cups of water and bring them to boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the lentils are just tender. Do not let them get mushy. Drain and set aside to cool
2. Put the lentils in a mixing bowl. Spoon in about half the vinaigrette and mix well. Allow the flavors to mingle for 10 minutes, then taste and adjust the seasonings to your liking—add more salt, pepper or vinaigrette, as you please. Just before serving, stir in the chopped basil and mint.

Note: Authentic Le Puy lentils, grown in the Auvergne region of France, are available at some gourmet food shops. More commonly you will find French green lentils which are small and tasty, but lack the robust, almost peppery flavor of the real thing. On the web, order Sabarot Le Puy Green Lentils from www.amazon.com.

I was soaking in the bathtub as the winter light filtered through the bare-limbed trees. Only a wall of glass separated me from the woods and the bridge that led to Marco’s treetop study. Ordinarily I adore lying in the white, spoon-shaped tub, gazing at the forest and the sky. But today I was disturbed.

It was so quiet I could hear the tiny bubbles foaming around my knees. I had lit a candle—La Candela Profumato al Melograno di Santa Maria Novella—and the air smelled like powder, incense and honey. It was a saintly fragrance that reminded me of the ancient church where we were married. The Oficina Pharmaceutica of Santa Maria Novella is nearly 800 years old, and Italian families have been lighting the thick, pomegranete-scented candles for centuries in hopes of good fortune, something I could use right now.

I was alone. Maffeo, my husband’s mirror image, the mysterious twin he had never bothered to mention in four years of marriage, the brother who was sitting in the chair opposite me when I opened my eyes this morning, was sleeping. At least, he had been breathing deeply and slowly, with a slight guttural snore, when I listened at the door of the guest room at the far end of the house. Even so, I had locked myself into the bathroom before stripping off my bloodied cashmere sweater and jeans.

I closed my eyes and sank deeper into the steamy water. With my fingertips I touched the back of my head. There was a lump where I had been bashed and my red hair was sticky with dried blood. But the headache was gone—thanks to a double dose of painkiller—and I could begin to think about what had happened.

Images surfaced, then disappeared. I let them come and go. The apoplectic dwarf, Lala handing me a spicy Tequila Maria, Al Underwood’s catlike eyes, the Porsche rising from the floodlit river, Max’s wet white face, Marco's books and maps tumbled across the floor of the tree house, the odd scent of jasmine, darkness…

My mind hit the rewind button. Marco’s books had been tossed around like trash and the maps ripped out of their frames. All of them, as if the intruder had gone on a rampage. Had he--or she--found what he was looking for? Or did he wreck the study in because “it” was not there? If I knew what "It" was, I might be able to figure out who had hit me over the head.

I splashed warm water on my face and tried to picture the bookshelves as they had been. On the top shelf were Marco’s journals, wrapped in brown paper, ordered chronologically, 29 of them covering the last 20 years: expeditions in South America, Central Asia, the Himalayas, plant research, the family project he was always working on. Everything that had filtered through his mind had been recorded meticulously in heavy black ink.

Then there were his research texts: scores of books, explorers’ memoirs, monographs, a well thumbed copy of the Encyclopedia of Psychoactive Plants, first editions of Shultes’ works. Like the journals they had been tossed helter skelter. Naturally Marco knew exactly where each book belonged, but how would I know if something had been taken?

I picked up the soap and absentmindedly turned it over in my hands. And there was the glass bookcase with the antique books, the ones about his namesake, the first Marco Polo, the Venetian trader, traveler, explorer, the author of The Description of the World, a book of marvels supposedly written while he was imprisoned in Genoa in 1298.

The original manuscript had vanished. Various copies, maybe 150 of them, are scattered around the world, in rare book rooms of museums, in locked bank vaults, in obscure private collections. No two are alike: the priests and scholars who copied the original embroidered the traveler's tale, adding a little here, subtracting a little there, until it was almost impossible to separate the fact from the fiction.

At least that’s what Marco said. Was he obsessed with his ancestor? Maybe. Packages would arrive every now and then from rare book dealers. He would disappear, then call me a few days later from Mongolia or Kandy or Cochin. At home he pored over those books, taking meticulous notes, coming to bed when dawn was breaking. They were old, some from the 18th and 19th centuries, beautifully bound in leather, with gold stamped titles, but they weren’t very valuable, he’d insisted, only to him and to his “research.” (Though I did see a bill for $9,500 tucked into one of them…)

The water was suddenly cold. I stood up and stepped out of the tub, wrapping myself in a white Turkish towel. I knew what I had to do: I had to go back across the bridge to the tree house, I had to sort through the mess, I had to figure out what was missing. Then I had to talk to Lala. I had to…. What I really had to do was sleep. The thought of all that activity was making me tired.

I stepped into the green silk pajamas I had worn the night before. I buttoned them up, and as I turned to the door, my arm brushed the pocket. There was something inside. My fingers touched a small, rolled up piece of paper. It was the paper that I had found on the floor after I’d broken the pepper jar. I must have slipped it into my pocket and forgotten it.

I unrolled the paper and read…

[Editor's Note: This interview originally appeared in the Fall, 2004 issue of SpiceLines Newsletter. To see the entire issue on black pepper, please go here.]

Tabla chef Floyd Cardoz tells us how black pepper is
used in the cooking of Goa and in his New York restaurant.

Crabcakes appear so regularly on New York restaurant menus that you could probably eat a different rendition--for better or worse--every day of the year. But the Goan Spiced Maine Crabcake at Tabla, the city’s most intriguing Indian restaurant, is the one we’d devour anytime: A disk of succulent lump crabmeat, delicately crisped to a golden brown, it bursts with the zingy flavors of ginger, coriander, chiles and other spices that enhance yet never overwhelm the sweetness of the shellfish. Eaten with bites of tart tamarind chutney, Tabla’s crabcake is thrilling, a bit like a rollercoaster ride through the flavor spectrum.

Tabla is not actuallly an Indian restaurant, but rather, a wondrous cross cultural kitchen manned by Floyd Cardoz, whose inventive way with Indian flavors creates dishes that owe as much to French or American styles of cooking as to the subcontinent. At 43, Cardoz is a gentle, softspoken man whose round face radiates a genuine sweetness, a rare quality in a chef. When he talks about India and the spices of his childhood, his eyes begin to glow.

Cardoz was born in Mumbai (Bombay). While studying to become a biochemist, he ran across Arthur Hailey’s novel Hotel and realized that he could get paid to do what he really loved: cooking. He enrolled in catering school, a move which stunned his family and friends, then took an entry-level job at the Taj Majal Intercontinental Hotel, where his first day’s assignment was to peel a 200-kilo bag of onions. After more culinary schooling in Switzerland, he worked at restaurants in Zurich and New York, before becoming executive sous chef to Grey Kunz at Lespinasse. During the next five years, with Kunz’s encouragement, Cardoz developed his own style of cooking, in the process increasing the Indian spices in Kunz’s kitchen from four to 25. In 1999, he joined with restaurant impresario Danny Meyer to open Tabla and in 2001, its more casual offshoot, The Bread Bar at 11 Madison Avenue. His first cookbook is due out in 2005.

We talked with Cardoz one blustery November afternoon about spices and the food of his native Goa:

Q. You spent your childhood in Bombay. What is the food like there?

A. The flavor tradition in Goa is influenced by the Portuguese. Pork, beef, and alcohol are all part of the cuisine. We used vinegar in our food, which is not common in Indian cuisine. We ate Western style bread instead of Indian flat bread. There are dishes like bibinca, a custard made of egg yolks, flour, coconut milk and nutmeg. Egg yolks are not normally used in Indian cooking. We have pork roasts and choriz, which is similar to chorizo [spicy pork sausage]. You’ll find bacalau [salt cod] cooked in olive oil and garlic, just as you do in Portugal.

Q. Did this tradition influence the kind of cooking you do at Tabla?

Almost everything I do draws on the Goan tradition. The crisped skate with pickled onions and yoghurt curry that you had for lunch is coated with salt, pepper and cream of wheat or semolina. We used to eat fish with cream of wheat at home. In India, the wheat is soft, not hard, so you can use it like breadcrumbs. I grew up up eating skate and it’s been on every menu I’ve ever had.

I borrow from Indian cuisine too. I might stretch the spice palate a bit, but I never force anything. For instance, fennel seed is used a lot in Indian cooking. It has a licorice flavor, so I might use spices with a similar flavor profile like anise, star anise, ginger, rosemary and tarragon to create layers of flavor. It’s subtle, but I like the way they play off each other.

Q. What was your family’s kitchen like?

A. It was modern. It had a gas range and an oven with a broiler. Our spice mixes were ground daily for each curry or marinade. We had a blender or coffee grinder for spices, but our cook would only use a traditional stone grinder.

Q. Did you spend much time in the kitchen as a boy?

I was in the kitchen all the time. I would catch fish and clean and cook it. I’d clean shrimp. I’d make omelets. I loved food so much, and I discovered that I had an aptitude for cooking.

Q. Are there dishes in Indian cuisine that use black pepper as a predominant spice, or is it usually blended with other spices?

A. There are some dishes that are based on black pepper. Murgh Kali mirch is chicken with black pepper. Potatoes are prepared with garlic, ginger and black pepper. My father used to eat watermelon sprinkled with black pepper and salt. My wife, Barkha, always eats fresh fruit with freshly ground black pepper. We drink lassi [ chilled yogurt and water] with black pepper. There is rasam, which is a sour, sweet, spicy soup that has a predominance of black pepper. The heat does help to cool down the body in the hot climate.

Q. How do you like to use black pepper at Tabla?

A. We tend to blend it with other spices, but sometimes black pepper is the strongest note. We’ve done skate with black peppercorns, lambchops seasoned with black cardamom and black pepper, and a black pepper shrimp salad with watermelon and lime. Tandoori quail in a black pepper glaze. Foie gras with black pepper and pear compote. For dessert, we have a vanilla bean kulfi, which is like ice cream, in a pomegranete-black pepper consomme. A lot of chefs use white pepper, but I prefer the nice aroma you get with black peppercorns.

Q. Do you use it whole or grind it?

A. I like to toast black peppercorns in a pan before grinding them. It gives them a nice citrusy aroma. The flavor almost sings when you eat it. If you bite a peppercorn, it’s fiery, but toasting balances the heat. I personally love peppercorns whole, so when I cook at home, I tend to use both techniques.

Q. There are different types of black pepper. Can you tell the difference between them?

A. The main difference is in the aroma, but unless you have a very trained palate, it’s hard to tell one from the other when they’re combined with food or other spices. We use Tellicherry peppercorns at the restaurant. The most important thing is to keep your spices fresh.

Q. How do you keep your spices fresh?

A. It’s all based on turnover. We go through $10,000 worth of spices a month, mainly coriander, cumin, black mustard seed, turmeric and black peppercorns. We keep our spices in sealed containers in a room separate from the kitchen away from the heat. We call it the spice room. It’s my favorite part of the kitchen.

Tabla, 11 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Telephone: 212/889-0667. Fax: 212/889-0914. Web: www.tablany.com

[Editor's Note: This recipe appeared in the Fall, 2004 issue of SpiceLines Newsletter. To see our interview with Tabla chef Floyd Cardoz, please go here. To see the entire black pepper issue, click here.]

This black pepper-spiked shrimp and watermelon salad from Floyd Cardoz,
chef at New York's Tabla restaurant, is spicy and refreshing at the same time.

On torrid summer evenings, a slice of chilled watermelon, dripping with luscious juice, is nearly as cooling as an Arctic breeze. In India, where they know a thing or two about beating the heat, ripe melon is often eaten with a sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper. Those fiery nuggets not only enhance the sweetness of the fruit, but paradoxically, by stoking inner flames, also help the body cool down.

Tabla chef Floyd Cardoz takes off on this idea by marinating jumbo shrimp overnight in a pungent black pepper-coriander seed paste. The spicy, sauteed shrimp are then combined with sweet watermelon, aromatic mint and cilantro, tangy lime juice and salty capers in a dressing spiked with ginger, a green chili and more black pepper. All that pepper intensifies the layers of vivid flavor--and might even drop the mercury a degree or two.

To serve 4 as an appetizer

Ingredients for the shrimp:

8 jumbo shrimp (or 16 large shrimp), peeled and de-veined
1 tablespoon black pepper, finely ground
1 tablespoon coriander seed, finely ground
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Sea salt
1/4 cup canola oil to cook the shrimp

Method for the shrimp:

1. Combine the ground spices with the extra-virgin olive oil in a medium bowl.
2. Toss shrimp in the spice paste. Cover and refrigerate for 24 hours.
3. Remove shrimp from the marinade, wipe away excess and season with sea salt.
4. Heat a cast iron skillet over medium-high heat for one minute. Add the oil and heat until shimmering. Carefully place seasoned shrimp in the pan and cook until crisp, about 2-3 minutes per side. Drain shrimp on rack or on paper towels.

Ingredients for the salad:

Chat masala to taste (available at Indian and Asian groceries)
Black pepper to taste
1 teaspoon peeled and minced fresh ginger root
1 hot chili pepper, seeds removed, minced fine
2 limes, one zested and cut into segments, the other squeezed for juice
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 cups diced watermelon, seeds removed
2 sprigs mint
1 sprig cilantro
1/4 cup thinly sliced breakfast radish (or any mild tasting radish)

Method for the salad:

1. Combine lime zest, lime juice, ginger, chili, chat masala, black pepper and extra virgin olive oil in a medium bowl.
2. Combine the watermelon, radishes, lime segments, mint, and cilantro in a separate bowl.
3. Just before serving, dress the salad by slowly pouring the juice mix over the vegetables and herbs.

For the garnish:

4 tablespoons salted capers soaked in warm water for 10 minutes, dried and quickly stir fried in one tablespoon of canola oil

To serve:

1. Divide the dressed salad equally among 4 small plates
2. Place 2 jumbo (or 4 large) shrimp on top of each salad.
3. Garnish with fried capers.