SpiceLines

Tart crab apples, pickled in a sweetened brine and flavored with an aromatic
blend of Chinese five spices, are delicious with grilled pork and venison.

Fall has slipped in without fanfare, brisk nights, almost chilly enough for a fire, trailing warm days with brilliant blue skies. Pumpkins are everywhere. Mostly there are mountains of orange jack o’ lanterns, but then I’ll stumble onto heirloom types roosting like aliens among old friends. One of the most alluring is the French pumpkin, Rouge Vif d’Etampes, a ruddy, flattened orb that looks like Cinderella’s coach before the fairy godmother graced it with her wand. New this year are ghostly white Luminas which might gleam in the dark, and an anonymous, smooth, deeply lobed pumpkin the color of seawater.

A few weeks ago Andrea Reusing, chef and owner of Lantern Restaurant in Chapel Hill (#47 on Gourmet’s list of America’s 50 Best Restaurants) fixed a trio of exotic housemade pickles using seasonal ingredients from our farmers’ market. My favorite was the lightly spiced sweet and sour pickled pumpkin. These toothsome golden half-moon slices are simmered in an Asian-style brine of rice vinegar and mirin infused with white peppercorns and fresh Thai chilies. They are easy to make and can be eaten almost immediately, although they are more flavorful after a few days in the refrigerator.

The next morning as I was looking for a small organic pumpkin to try Andrea’s recipe, I spied a basket of tiny, bright red crab apples and, next to it, a recipe for pickles. My mind flew at once to our own tree, so heavily laden with fruit this year that the groaning boughs are stretched almost to the ground. I could make pickles, I thought, and unburden the branches that have been sagging under the strain of such fecundity. (I’m sure I have the thrifty French housewife gene, for I’m never happier than using up what we have in the larder or garden.)

This is a more complicated pickle. Making it will occupy the better part of an afternoon. If you are plucking your own, choose only ripe apples that have turned completely red (or ones that are at least streaked with yellow rather than green). Look for unblemished fruit without bruises or too many insect spots. Make sure the birds have not already tasted them. This can be a very companionable way to spend an hour or two on a sunny fall day and my husband, who has lately become a pickle connoisseur, was only too happy to take a break from pruning a Japanese flowering plum and pick a few apples.

This is important: Whether you are buying crab apples or using your own, taste them first. A mealy apple is no good for eating or for pickling.

Because even the ripe fruit is quite tart, I made a brine of apple cider and white balsamic vinegars simmered with unrefined demerara sugar. The fun came in picking spices to add a little zing to all that sweetness. I decided to do a riff on Chinese five spice, using aromatic whole spices instead of ground ones. Into the pot went cassia sticks, star anise, fennel seed, cloves and black peppercorns--and for good measure, a knob of fresh ginger.

Although you can treat these as fresh pickles and eat them within a day or two, I’m keeping one jar in the refrigerator for a few weeks to see how the spices will permeate the fruit. Even after 24 hours, the flavors are starting to mellow. If the crab apples are as good as they were with last night’s caramelized pork chops, I know we’ll be enjoying them deep into the fall.

Autumn pickles: Top left, crabapples with star anise; bottom right,
pumpkin slices simmered in rice vinegar with fresh Thai chilies.

Recipe: Pickled Pumpkin with Thai Chiles and White Peppercorns
(from Andrea Reusing, Lantern Restaurant, Chapel Hill)

Ingredients:

3 pounds small, organic edible pumpkins, cut into thin moons or chunks (see note)

For the brine:

5 fresh or dried Thai chilies (or to taste) (see note)
10 white peppercorns
2 quarts unseasoned rice wine vinegar (see note)
1-1/2 cups distilled white vinegar
1-1/2 cups mirin, or Japanese rice wine (see note)
2-1/2 cups white sugar
1/2 cup kosher salt

Method:

Combine brine ingredients in a non-reactive pan and bring to a simmer. When the sugar is dissolved, add pumpkin and simmer until al dente. Cool in liquid and refrigerate. Best after 2 or 3 days.

Note: I used a small Sugar Pie organic pumpkin. To prepare it for pickling, I peeled the rind, cut it in half, scooped out the seeds and pulp, and then sliced each half into very thin half moons. If the pieces seem large, you can cut them in half again on the diagonal. Or simply cut the pumpkin into bite-size chunks.

Rice vinegar, mirin or Japanese rice wine, and Thai chilies can be found at Asian food markets and in the international and produce sections of some supermarkets.

Recipe: Crab Apple Pickles with Star Anise, Cassia and Ginger
(Adapted from a recipe at Whole Foods)

Ingredients:

2 quarts ripe, unblemished crab apples

For the brine:

2 cups white balsamic vinegar
3 cups apple cider vinegar
2 cups demerara, or light brown sugar (see note)
1 5-inch stick cassia (see note)
1 tablespoon star anise, whole or broken bits
1 tablespoon whole cloves
1 tablespoon whole fennel seed
2 tablespoons whole black peppercorns
3-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and sliced

For the jars:

Cassia sticks
Black peppercorns
Star anise

Other equipment:

2 quart jars or 4 pint jars, with lids

Method:

1. Wash the crab apples and discard any that are bruised or blemished. If desired, prick them with the tines of a fork. This will keep them from bursting when they are simmered in the hot brine.

2. Wash the jars and lids, or run them through the dishwasher, and put them in a large pot with water to cover. Bring to a rolling boil. Boil for 10 minutes, then turn off the heat and leave them in the hot water until you are ready to use them.

3. Place the spices in a 6-inch square of cheesecloth and tie up the ends to make a pouch. Put the spice bag in a large non-reactive pot with the vinegars and sugar. Bring to a gentle boil.

4. When the sugar has dissolved, add the crab apples. Simmer for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally until the apples are tender but still hold their shape. If overcooked, they will become mushy and disintegrate.

5. Remove the jars from the hot water and in each one, place a cassia stick, a few peppercorns and a whole star anise. Carefully ladle crab apples into each jar. Pour in the hot brine so that the fruit is completely covered. Put on the tops and let the pickles cool to room temperature.

6. Store either in a very cool dark pantry or in the refrigerator. For most flavorful pickles, wait 3 to 4 weeks before eating.

Note: Demarara sugar is natural unrefined cane sugar. If not available, substitute light brown sugar. In America, cassia sticks are usually sold as cinnamon sticks. Hard and tightly scrolled, they tend to break with a snap and have a vivid “cinnamon” flavor. (True cinnamon from Ceylon consists of crumbly layers of concentrically rolled bark; it has a softer, more nuanced taste.) For more on cinnamon and cassia, see SpiceLines Newsletter.

The second edition of spice merchant Ian Hempill's book
offers over 100 recipes for an expanded range of spices
and herbs, including some that are unique to Australia.

A few days ago when I was making pickled crabapples, I found myself ransacking the kitchen pantry for a jar of cloves. Eventually I found them tucked behind the Gujarati fennel, still sweetly pungent and very lively though I hadn’t actually used them for almost a year. When measuring out a tablespoon for the brine, I began thinking about this curious nail-shaped spice. Cloves are a staple in kitchens the world over, but what are they exactly?

Well, if you happened to be chatting with Ian Hemphill, an amiable and authoritative Australian spice merchant, he would likely tell you that cloves are the unopened flower buds of a tropical tree—Eugenia caryophyllata, to be specific—that, planted in groves, forms a “magical aromatic canopy." And that said tree is so sensitive that the buds must be gently plucked by hand lest it suffer a shock to its nervous system and go on strike. And that the immature buds, picked when they are just turning pink, look a lot like “the unopened eyes of baby marsupials.”

That last phrase spells the delightful difference between Hemphill’s Spice and Herb Bible and almost every other reference book on the subject. (The only exception I can think of is Waverly Root’s very witty Food.) This serious, but not too scholarly volume is the kind of book you might want to curl up with when plotting your next spicy repast. Let's say you’d like to know where cloves are grown (Zanzibar and Madagascar), how to ask for them in Italian (garofano) or how to use them in cooking (curries, tagines, pickles, and stewed fruits): This is the place to go. The word “clove,” Hemphill tells us, comes from the Latin clavus, meaning “nail”—that’s what they look like—and that in ancient China, courtiers chewed cloves to sweeten their breath before speaking to the Emperor.

The brand new second edition of The Spice and Herb Bible has improved on an already great book. Close-up color photos—especially helpful if you’re investigating an off-the beaten-track ingredient such as grains of paradise or sweet cicely—now accompany chapters on more than 100 herbs and spices. Each entry ends with an imaginative, but not too complicated recipe devised by Hemphill’s daughter Kate—among them, Smoky Clove-Scented Beef in which skewered spiced beef is cooked over rice perfumed with cloves and cardamom. There are tantalizing entries on Australian spices and herbs, such as lemon myrtle and Tasmanian pepperberries, which will be available through Hemphill’s California rep, Uplink International, starting in November 2006.

Ian Hemphill, author of The Spice
and Herb Bible

Hemphill comes by his expertise naturally. As a boy, he worked in his parents’ herb nursery, Somerset Cottage. After a stint in Singapore at the helm of an international spice company, he returned to Australia where he opened his own retail business in a Sydney suburb. Today Herbie’s (the name comes from a boyhood nickname) offers the largest selection of herbs and spices in the Southern Hemisphere. (A personal note: I have had a sporadic email correspondence with Ian for several years and have always found him to be generous with his far superior knowledge and extraordinarily good-natured, especially when I have peppered him with tedious and repetitive questions.)

The Herb and Spice Bible: Second Edition is divided into three parts. The World of Spices tackles topics such as buying and storing spices (freeze fresh chopped herbs in ice cubes until you need them), a list of spices used in major cuisines, and a few tips on the tricky business of matching wines with spices. One suggestion: pair hot spicy foods with low alcohol wines from New Zealand, Germany or Alsace. Why? High alcohol wines can make aggressively seasoned food taste unpleasant.

The middle section, Spice Notes, covers over 100 spices and herbs with recipes. The last part is devoted to the art of combining spices. The best new addition here is an herb and spice pyramid--a useful jumping off point for anyone who wants to make their own blends. At the top of the pyramid are Hot Spices--chili, horseradish, mustard and pepper—which should make up no more than 3 percent of the mix. At the bottom are amalgamating herbs and spices such as parsley, coriander and sesame seed, which should comprise about 57 percent. Creative cooks will tinker with Hemphill’s recommendations, but the chart gives a base from which to start.

There are 39 recipes for Hemphill’s own blends including an Aussie Bush Pepper Mix and a sumptuous version of Dukkah, the Egyptian spice blend, made with hazelnuts and pistachios as well as the usual sesame seeds, coriander, cumin, salt and black pepper.

These are the same blends sold by Herbie’s Spices. As Ian told me in a recent email, “We’ve revealed all our secrets in the book.”

The Spice and Herb Bible: Second Edition by Ian Hemphill (Robert Rose, 2006) may be ordered from www.amazon.com.

To order Herbie’s spices, go to www.herbies.com.au. After November 1, U.S. customers can order directly from www.herbiesspicesusa.com or by calling Uplink International at 1.800.896.3070.

In Morocco, harira, a hearty lamb, lentil and chickpea soup,
is traditionally eaten to break the daylong fast during Ramadan.

I was in Casablanca and I was ravenous. It was not Ramadan—and I am not Muslim—but when I saw harira on the menu—the nourishing soup, both homely and sublime, that many eat to break the Ramadan fast—I couldn’t dial room service quickly enough.

In Morocco, harira is traditionally eaten right after sundown during the holy month of Ramadan. The ninth month of the Islamic calendar is a time for prayers, spiritual reflection, and acts of generosity. It is also a time for fasting. From dawn to sunset, not a morsel of food or drop of drink passes the lips of observant Muslims. The fast is a form of self-discipline, a stepping away from the material world in order to follow an inner path that takes one closer to God.

Naturally, as soon as the sun sets, everyone rushes to break the fast, first with a light meal and later with a more elaborate dinner. In Soup Song, Patricia Solley has written fondly of harira and her memories of Ramadan in Casablanca. As she observes, the tradition of eating soup may have begun with Muhammad who ended his own daily fast with water, dates and barley broth. Harira takes broth to an altogether different level: “..it’s hugely refreshing and nutritious—a quick shot of thirst-slaking liquid with hunger-relieving solid nutrition that prepares the body and soul for the prayers that follow, before the proper evening meal is taken.”

At Amanjena in Marrakesh, Bahija, sous chef for Moroccan cuisine, sautes diced
carrots and onions. Like many Moroccan cooks, she learned to make harira and other
traditional recipes in her mother's kitchen. Image: Christina Tabora at Amanresorts.

There are many, many recipes for harira—but the basic formula is meat, usually lamb, simmered with lentils, tomatoes and other vegetables, temptingly perfumed with cinnamon and green herbs, thickened with flour and thin noodles, and enriched with beaten eggs. It is the proverbial meal in a pot and the wonder is that the version below can be prepared in not much more than an hour.

This especially delicious recipe for harira comes from Bahija, sous chef in charge of Moroccan cuisine at the Amanjena in Marrakesh. Amanjena is Morocco at its poshest—fountains strewn with rose petals, elegant hammams or steam baths, lectures on Islamic art--but one of its endearing qualities is that you can eat this homely soup every day of the year there. (There is one guest, I’ve been told, who orders it every night.)

Bahija’s slightly untraditional version is made with beef rather than lamb—either way it’s very good, so the choice is yours. She also uses refined tomato coulis instead of the usual chopped tomatoes--again, you can go either way. I‘ve added a little ginger, and as Patricia Solley suggests, a squeeze of lemon juice to the beaten egg, making the soup a bit spicier, with a touch of sourness to complement all those rich and hearty flavors.

Recipe: Harira or Lentil and Chickpea Soup with Cinnamon, Saffron and Coriander

(adapted from Bahija, sous chef at Amanjena resort in Marrakesh)

To serve 6

Ingredients:

1/2 pound beef or lamb, cut in 1-inch dice
1/2 cup lentils
3/4 cup fresh tomato coulis (see below)
1 small bunch flat leaf parsley, chopped, about 1 cup
1 small bunch fresh coriander, chopped, about 1 cup
2 stalks celery, finely chopped, about 1 cup
1 large onion, finely chopped, about 1-1/2 cups
3-inch stick of cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon powdered ginger
A generous pinch of saffron threads
1 cup chickpeas, soaked in water overnight, or 1 cup canned chickpeas, drained
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon flour
2 ounces angel hair pasta, broken into 2-inch pieces, about 1 cup
1 egg
juice of 1/2 lemon
Salt and pepper to taste

Optional Garnish:

Chopped cilantro
Lemon wedges
Harissa paste (see note)

Method:

1. Into a large pot, put the diced meat, lentils, tomato coulis, parsley, coriander, celery, onion, cinnamon, ginger and saffron. If you are using soaked chickpeas, add them now. Add 8 cups of water, stir and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 30 minutes, or until the chickpeas are tender. (If you are using canned chickpeas, add them after the 30 minutes are up.)
2. Whisk the flour and 1 cup of water until smooth and add the mixture to the soup. Raise the heat to high and when the soup has just begun to boil, add the angel hair pasta.
3. Whisk the egg with the lemon juice and briskly stir the mixture into the soup. Reduce the heat so that the soup bubbles gently and allow it to cook partly covered for an additional 15 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.
4. To serve: Ladle soup into individual bowls. If desired, sprinkle with a little chopped coriander and serve with lemon wedges and harissa paste.

Note: Harissa is a mildly spicy Moroccan paste made of red chili peppers, garlic and olive oil. Order Mustapha’s Harissa from www.chefshop.com or look for Le Cabanon brand in Middle Eastern grocery stores.

Recipe: Fresh Tomato Coulis

This is just a simple fresh tomato puree.

Makes 3/4 to 1 cup

Ingredients:

4 medium plum tomatoes

Method:

1. With a sharp knife, cut an “X” at the bottom of each tomato.
2. Bring a pot of water to boil. Drop the tomatoes into the boiling water for 15 seconds. Drain and allow to cool slightly.
3. Core the tomatoes and peel off the skins. Cut them in half and squeeze out the juice and seeds into a bowl. Strain the juice and discard the seeds. Add the juice to the tomatoes.
4. In a blender, whirr the tomatoes until very smooth.

Spices for ras el hanout from an herboriste in Marrakesh: top from left to right,
cassia stick, unknown, mace, unknown nut, long pepper, nutmegs; bottom, left
to right, green cardamom, galangal, allspice, unknown root, allspice.

I’m sitting outside in the clear cold light of an October morning, peering through a magnifying glass at a dusty bag of whole spices.

The spices are for ras el hanout, an old ingredient in the Moroccan cook's battery of seasonings. Some of the items are familiar, but others—a fibrous gnarled root and a shiny nut that rattles when I shake it--are strange to me. When I inhale their mingled aroma, it is so electric that tears come to my eyes.

What is ras el hanout? Literally, the phrase translates as “top” or “head of the shop,” and, as the story goes, it is a blend of as many as 100 exotic spices. It is not Moroccan curry—as Paula Wolfert observes in Couscous and Other Good Food from Morocco, it “lacks the abundance of fenugreek, coriander seeds, mustard seeds, poppy seeds and cumin of commercial curry.” Nor is it an all-purpose solution for “bad cooks” who don’t how to season their food--as a Berber pharmacist in Fez joked after I bought his secret blend of 40 spices, including, he winked slyly, hashish and the notorious Spanish fly.

I confess that I was taken in by the wizened pharmacist’s cabinet of wonders. There were lumps of fragrant musk and ambergris, for scenting the linen closet, he said, bottles of damask rose water for sprinkling in cool tiled corridors, dark kohl for lining the eyes and henna for the hands. But when I opened the little bag of spices a few weeks later, it was dull, a pale echo of the 40 ingredients from which it was presumably made.

At its best, ras el hanout is a mixture that represents the peak of the spice blender’s art—hence its name. (In Ethiopia “ras” is a title for “king.”) Usually it is made with fewer than 100 or even 40 spices—and rarely with hashish or aphrodisiacs (Spanish fly is now illegal in Morocco)—but they are expertly combined to produce a nuanced blend in which no single spice predominates. In The Spice and Herb Bible, Ian Hemphill writes that a well made blend acquires a personality all its own. “A good ras el hanout is arguably the finest example of how well a collection of diverse spices can come together to form a complete ingredient that is immeasurably greater than any of the parts taken individually.”

A case in point: Christine and Redouane Khaldi, who own a shop called Marrakesh in Chapel Hill, shared with me the mysterious bag of whole spices. It came from an herboriste in Marrakesh (the city) and it is a pinch of that seasoning that makes the Khaldiis’ chicken and green olive tagine so sublime. Some of the easy-to-identify ingredients include cassia (otherwise known as cinnamon in America, but actually a cousin of the true spice grown in Sri Lanka), nutmeg and its lacy orange covering, mace, green cardamom pods, and allspice berries. There is also long pepper which resembles a tiny immature pinecone and has a tingling, sometimes numbing effect on the tongue. But that doesn’t account for the fiery rush that occurs when I inhale the scent of the bag.

That comes from a pale dried root which appears to be galangal, a ferociously pungent member of the ginger family. But there are other ingredients that I cannot decipher, among them a dark shiny nut containing a seed, and a brown fibrous root with a flavor both resinous and fruity. When I nibble it, my tongue goes mildly numb.

When these very distinct ingredients are pulverized to a fine powder and mixed, they create an aromatic blend that not only lends a divine perfume to the Khaldis’ tagine, but also seems to boost the flavor of the other spices, especially the cinnamon, ginger and saffron. They use it in meatball and other tagines as well, but never with fish where it would be overpowering.

An easy way to dip your spoon into the world of ras el hanout is to buy a ready made blend. At www.herbies.com.au, you can find a 21-spice mixture created by Ian Hemphill, a Sydney spice merchant and author of The Spice and Herb Bible; www.chefshop.com has Mustapha’s authentic Moroccan Ras El Hanout, also made of 21 spices including rose petals, grains of paradise and piment fort, a hot red chili pepper; www.kalustyans.com offers ras el hanout for couscous.

But if you would like to try making your own, you might start with a simple one from Ana Sortun, chef at Oleana in Cambridge. The next two, from Kitty Morse and Paula Wolfert, are more complex, but no less rewarding.

Oleana’s Ras el Hanout

(from Ana Sortun, Spice: Flavors of the Eastern Mediterranean)

At her Cambridge restaurant, chef Ana Sortun uses a simple seven-spice blend as a “condiment” for chickpeas, fried squid, fish, and vegetables. “However,” she writes in her cookbook, “I think it really shines with chicken, which takes on the reddish hue of the paprika, and the slight sweetness of the ginger, saffron and cumin.” Toasting the cumin seed takes away the raw edge of the spice, giving it a warm, earthy taste.

Makes about 1 cup

Ingredients:

1/4 cup cumin seeds
3/4 teaspoon saffron
1-1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon turmeric
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup paprika

Method:

1. In a small skillet over medium low heat, toast the cumin seeds for 2 minutes, until fragrant. Place the seeds in a spice grinder and cool completely. Add the saffron to the spice grinder and grind with the cumin seed.

2. Remove the saffron and cumin mixture to a small mixing bowl and combine with the remaining spices.

Kitty Morse’s Ras el Hanout

(from Kitty Morse, Cooking at the Kasbah: Recipes from My Moroccan Kitchen)

Kitty Morse, who was born in Casablanca, has written nine cookbooks iincluding Cooking at the Kasbah, which was inspired by her family’s recipes. This version of ras el hanout is a blend of 9 spices plus salt. Morse uses the robust blend in a recipe for Kefta Mahchiya: stuffed meatballs with dried fruit in sweet onion sauce. The mixture has the slightest whiff of turmeric—or is it nutmeg? Either way, it is a favorite in our house—the secret ingredient in to-die-for fried chicken.

You will need a good spice grinder if you use whole spices. See
“Tools of the Trade: We Test a Few Under $30 Spice Grinders; Which Ones Work for Spices?” for our recommendations.

Makes about 1/4 cup

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon allspice berries or 1-1/4 teaspoons ground allspice
1 whole nutmeg or 2 teaspoons ground nutmeg
20 threads Spanish saffron
2 teaspoons black peppercorns or 1-1/2 teaspoons ground black pepper
1-1/2 teaspoons blade mace or ground mace
1 three-inch cinnamon stick or 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons cardamom seeds or 1-1/2 teaspoons ground cardamom
2 two-inch pieces dried ginger or 2 teaspoons ground ginger
2 teaspoons salt
1 two-inch piece dried turmeric or 1 teaspoon ground

Method:

1. If using whole spices, put all the ingredients in a nonstick pan over medium-high heat and toast, stirring constantly, until the mixture emits a pleasant aroma, 3 to 5 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool. (This first step is not necessary if using commercially ground spices.)
2. Using a mortar and pestle or a spice grinder, reduce the ingredients to a fine powder. Sift to remove fibrous elements. Place in a tightly sealed container and store in a cool, dark place or in the freezer.

Paula Wolfert’s Ras El Hanout

(from Paula Wolfert in Couscous and Other Good Food from Morocco)

Paula Wolfert and a Moroccan girl in New York created this American adaptation. Although it “lacks some of the rare Moroccan items like cubeb peppers and the aphrodisiacs,” there are still plenty of hard-to-find ingredients, but the blend is so wildly fragrant that it is well worth seeking them out. (Besides, assembling them is half the fun!)

If you make this recipe, you will definitely need a good spice grinder. To clean the machine and remove any lingering aromas, Wolfert suggests grinding cane sugar in it after you’re finished.

You can order orrisroot, galingale (or galangal), dried turmeric root, dried gingerroot and black cardamom pods from www.kalustyans.com.

Ingredients:

4 whole nutmegs
10 rosebuds
12 cinnamon sticks
12 blades mace
1 teaspoon aniseed
8 pieces turmeric [the dried root]
2 small pieces orrisroot
2 dried cayenne peppers
1/2 teaspoon lavender
1 tablespoon white peppercorns
2 pieces galingale [or galangal]
2 tablespoons whole gingerroot [dried]
6 cloves
24 allspice berries
20 white or green cardamom pods
4 wild (black) cardamom pods

Method:

Grind the ingredients in a blender [or spice grinder] until you obtain a fine mix, then sieve.

If you live in the South, you had better know how to make fried chicken.

Your “friends”-–all excellent home cooks--will be persnickety, so you have to get it right, especially if you’re a Johnny-come-lately who didn’t learn how to make perfect fried chicken standing at her Mama’s elbow. The meat must be succulent, enveloped in rich, crispy, golden brown skin, fried but lightly so, with just enough grease to make you whimper with pleasure as you’re devouring your third piece. And you’d do well have a little twist—a mystery ingredient--that makes your chicken different from your neighbor’s.

I’ve been told that I make great fried chicken and I owe it all to Salli. It started one foggy morning in Nantucket, when my children and I were curled up in bed watching a fried chicken cook-off between Martha Stewart and her friend Salli LaGrone. Martha’s dark mahogany-colored chicken, which had soaked overnight in buttermilk and was dusted with cayenne-spiked flour, reposed magnificently on a platter, garnering lavish praise--while Salli’s plate of fried fowl was almost licked clean by a hungry crew who couldn’t wolf it down it fast enough. (Go here to see Salli’s original recipe.)

One of Salli’s secrets is a pinch of cinnamon added to the flour in which the chicken is coated. Over the years, I’ve gradually increased the pinch to a scant teaspoon. I love the way cinnamon’s sweetness coaxes out the natural flavor of the chicken, while its astringent edge contrasts pleasingly with the luscious fried skin. One other change I’ve made is substituting peanut oil for the shortening, which I dislike on principle. Peanut oil is great for frying and gives the chicken a tasty flavor. I’ve developed my own timetable for turning the chicken as it cooks, but these are minor tweaks to a truly stellar recipe.

One shouldn’t fiddle with success, but last week I added a teaspoonful of ras-el-hanout, the robust Moroccan spice blend that works so well with chicken cooked in a tagine, to the flour. It too contains cinnamon, but also black pepper, nutmeg, mace, allspice, ginger and turmeric. The results were subtly different, the chicken even more devilishly delicious than usual. “Your best ever,” said my husband, reaching for a forbidden fourth piece.

Now that’s my secret for great fried chicken.

Recipe: Southern Fried Chicken with Moroccan Spices

(adapted from Salli’s Fried Chicken on Martha Stewart Living)

Ingredients:

3/12 to 4 pound chicken, cut into 8 pieces
Salt to taste
1-3/4 cups flour
1 scant teaspoon cinnamon
1 scant teaspoon ras-el-hanout (see note)
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
Peanut oil
1-1/2 cups buttermilk

Lemon wedges (optional)
Siracha or other hot sauce (optional) (see note)

Equipment:

Cast iron frying pan
Deep frying thermometer

Method:

1. In the refrigerator, soak the chicken overnight in a bowl of cold water covered with plastic.
2. When you are ready to cook, pat dry with paper towels and sprinkle with salt to taste. If the breasts are large, cut them in half with kitchen shears.
3. In a large bowl, combine the flour, cinnamon, ras el hanout and black pepper. Dip each piece of chicken into the flour mixture and shake off the excess. Let the flour dry for 15 minutes. Pour the buttermilk into a large bowl and set aside.
4. In the meantime, pour about 1 inch of peanut oil into a cast iron frying pan and turn the heat to high. When the oil reaches 350 degrees on a deep frying thermometer, adjust the heat to maintain that temperature.
5. Dip half of the chicken pieces in the buttermilk and then into the bowl of flour, shaking off the excess. Carefully place them in the hot oil, skin side down, using tongs if necessary. Fry the chicken until it is light golden brown, turning frequently.
6. Place the chicken skin side down, cover the pan and turn the heat to low. Cook the chicken for 6 minutes, then turn and cook, covered, for another 6 minutes. Remove the top and turn the heat to high. Cook the chicken until it is crispy, about 2 minutes, then turn and cook until the other side is crisp, about 1 minute.
7. Remove the chicken from the pan and drain on several layers of paper towel. Place them on a baking sheet in a 250-degree oven to keep them warm.
8. Repeat steps 5-7 with the remaining chicken. Be sure to bring the temperature of the oil back to 350 degrees before putting the second batch of chicken in the pan.
9. Serve the chicken on a platter with wedges of lemon and small bowls of siracha, the Vietnamese hot sauce, if desired. I like to accompany it with a bowl of cole slaw made from red and green cabbage dressed with a white balsamic vinaigrette.

Note: I made Kitty Morse’s recipe for ras el hanout. You can also buy good ready-made versions from www.chefshop.com and www.herbies.com.au. Siracha, the fiery Vietnamese hot sauce, can be found at most Asian markets.