SpiceLines

This garlic clove turned blue-green when pickled with onion (and green
cherry tomatoes.) Though poisonous-looking, it is safe to eat. The hue
comes from chlorophyll-like chemicals in the onion and garlic.

Last summer, when I pickled a few pints of green cherry tomatoes, the cloves of garlic tucked in the jars turned a lurid blue-green—the sort of weirdly beautiful shade that copper turns when exposed to weather. I was so alarmed that I emailed Rick Field of Rick’s Picks, who had given me the recipe. ‘Is it poisonous?” I asked. “Will I die if I eat it?” “Don’t worry,” said Rick “That happens all the time. It’s perfectly safe to eat.”

In today’s New York Times (“The Curious Cook: When Science Sniffs Around the Kitchen,” Wednesday, December 6, 2006, pp. D1 and D11), Harold McGee writes about his own experience with another bizarre color change. “…I was really rattled the first time I pureed raw garlic, onion and ginger together in the blender to make chicken in yoghurt from Madhur Jaffrey’s “Invitation to Indian Cooking.’ When I fried the puree, the entire mass turned turquoise blue.”

McGee notes that in northern China, aged fresh garlic is left in vinegar for a week to make an “intentionally intensely green” Laba garlic pickle traditionally served with New Year’s dumplings. According to chemists at the China Agricultural University in Beijing, aged garlic is saturated with a chemical that turns garlic green when released by the acetic acid in the vinegar. “The pigment itself turns out to be a close chemical relative of chlorophyll, which gives all green leaves their color,” he writes.

The color change in garlic and garlic-onion blends is created, McGee says, by the “same handful of sulfur compounds and enzymes that give the allium family its unique pungent flavors. Under the right conditions, these chemicals react with each other and with common amino acids to make pyrroles, clusters of carbon-nitrogen rings.” Essentially, these rings absorb different wavelengths of light and may appear green or blue, depending on their structure. To eliminate the blue hue of an onion-garlic blend, simply raise the heat in the pan—it will turn, according to Ms. Jaffrey, “a more acceptable pinkish-brown...”

Harold McGee is the author of On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, a superb reference book which includes a excellent analysis of the flavor components in spices and herbs. His website is www.curiouscook.com. Today’s article is the first in a series of columns on the science of cooking, also called “The Curious Cook,” which McGee will write for The Times.

Dear Santa Claus,

I've been a good girl this year, so I'm making my list. My wants are not exactly modest, but then, it's Christmas! If you can work your magic, I'd really love to get...

……my long lost Sumeet Multigrind. It’s been on order since March, but there’s not a glimmer from the frozen steppes—that is, Toronto--where the distributor appears to be hibernating. Oh, I love my Singaporean mortar and pestle, but I really do need that wondrous 400-watt motor to pulverize whole spices to a fine powder or whisk ornery ingredients like coconut and lemon grass into silken pastes. How about a fly-by Santa, to see if you can liberate the Sumeet?

No luck? Don’t worry, I’ve got other options…James Oseland, Saveur editor and author of the best cookbook of 2006--Cradle of Flavor: Home Cooking from the Spice Islands of Indonesia, Malaysia and Singapore--swears by his Cuisinart Mini-Prep Plus Processor. Over breakfast at Happy Joy on Canal Street a few weeks ago, he owned up to not having the time to pound ingredients by hand. James makes his stellar flavoring pastes—try the Nonya Sambal with red and green chiles, shrimp paste and lime—in his Cuisinart Mini. I’d like a bright red one, please, Santa!

Of course, if you’re feeling flush, a Vita Mix blender will do the trick and then some. My Vita Mix lust crested at Susana Trilling’s Oaxaca cooking school when I saw how easily it whipped dried chiles soaked in water into a super-smooth puree. The Pro model has a variable speed motor that can go from 11 to 240 mph, which surely puts it in the Bugatti category. (The world’s fastest car tops out at 253 mph—even if it is owned by Volkswagen.) Maybe I can drive the Vita Mix while vaporizing chunks of coconut.

But you know, Santa, too many machines can make the cook skittish. So I’ll slow down and serenely contemplate this year’s cult object of desire: the oroshi. For centuries the Japanese have grated fresh wasabi root by hand, using real sharkskin mounted on a fan-shaped wooden paddle. Like so many things Japanese, the oroshi combines form and function exquisitely. Of course, I’ll need some fresh wasabi root to grate, so, pretty please, could I have a couple of plants from The Frog Farm in Seattle? Or maybe you could just deliver a tube of real wasabi paste—no horseradish added-- from Pacific Farms… and I’ll use the oroshi for grating ginger.

I’m on a Japanese roll, no pun intended, and I wouldn’t say no to Hiroko Shimbo’s latest cookbook, The Sushi Experience. In my own experience, sushi can be ultra-challenging—especially cutting the fish delicately thin--but Ms. Shimbo has done her best to demystify the process. And there are so many other tempting dishes besides. This winter I’m definitely trying her recipe for Salmon Roe, Persimmon and Daikon Salad with Grated Yuzu.

There’s a spot on the bookshelf just waiting for Andrea Nguyen’s Into the Vietnamese Kitchen: Treasured Foodways, Modern Flavors. I’m eager to try her version of pho (see SpiceLines recipe here), and her recipe for meaty pork spareribs in caramel sauce sounds perfect for a wintry supper. In the meantime I’ll visit Andrea’s knockout website, Viet World Kitchen, which has everything you’ll ever want to know about that cuisine.

As for ingredients, I’m besotted with Benimosu purple sweet potato vinegar. I first tasted it at the New York Fancy Food Show and nearly fainted with delight. Made in by the Iio Jozo Brewery in the fishing village of Miyazu in Kyoto Prefecture, this aged organic vinegar is bright crimson, the color of strawberries, and is so soft and mild that you could drink it as an apertif, splashed over ice. It comes in plain and honey-sweetened versions. A big bottle, please, Santa: 16.9 oz.

My sister-in-law just sent a pair of lacy-leaved Godwin Creek lavender plants, a reminder that we can enjoy the sunny fragrance of lavender even in the depths of winter. Deborah has a great instinct for gifts: the plants were preceded by Claudia Fleming’s The Last Course: The Desserts of Grammercy Tavern. This is absolutely a cookbook for spice lovers: this award-winning pastry chef has irresistible recipes for Black Pepper Ice Cream, Ginger-Poached Pears and Orange-Cardamom Shakes—plus Lavender Crème Brulee and Lavender-Lemon Pound Cake. Help me out, Santa, and kindly add a tin of culinary lavender from Sunshine Lavender Farm to your list…
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Will there be a plane ticket tucked into my stocking this year? I’ve been such a good, good girl, Santa baby. There’s a cooking class at my favorite Paris spice shop, Goumanyat et Son Royaume. M. Thiercelin, a sixth- generation saffron merchant, is cooking a Bollywood-style dinner on February 24. The menu includes lamb samosas with mango mint chutney and pickled ginger, tandoori shrimp curry and rice with saffron and cardamom. And of course, any of his to-die-for spices would be welcome, especially some of that intensely fragrant saffron from the apothecary jar on his counter.

Could I go further afield? I'm longing to gather nutmegs, preferably from a tree in Indonesia’s far flung Banda Islands. And in Bhutan, Amankora—the posh lodge created by Amanresorts—is offering a matsutake-hunting expedition next fall. Highlights include a trip to the village of Geneka where the mushroom’s musky aroma permeates the marketplace, and the chance to sample myriad dishes created with this delectable fungi.

One last wish, Santa: a spice room. Yes, I really do need to add one to my house. There would be a pantry, naturally, with room for a hundred or so jars of the most exotic spices and a refrigerator for turmeric root, galangal and other perishable delicacies. In the main room I’ll have a library of spice books, old and new, priceless maps from the age of exploration, and a sleek Chinese painting table with nary a sheet of paper to mar its surface—although my iBook is allowed to perch there. There must be a verandah, of couirse, with tropical spice plants—black pepper, vanilla and cardamom—growing lustily, and a distant view of the Indian Ocean…lychee martinis...

Here’s hoping, Santa!

Lots of love, hugs and fresh gingersnaps by the hearth, should you happen to stop by…

After a long night delivering presents, treat Santa to a plate of freshly baked
gingernaps. Made with grated gingerroot, these aromatic cookies are light,
crisp and irresistible.

The very best recipes come from friends and relations. This one is no exception. Deborah, my New York sister-in-law and dessert-maker extraordinaire, sent me this irresistible gingersnap recipe a few years ago. She was given it by her friend, Helen Freytag, who once lived in Hong Kong, and she had received it from…well, who knows? A chain of deliciousness—as Nigella might say—stretching across the country and perhaps even the world.

Made with freshly grated gingerroot and sweetened with molasses, these aromatic cookies are fragile and crisp—so insubstantial that it’s easy to inhale half a dozen or so without even thinking about it. Perfect to leave by the fireside for Santa, perhaps with a glass of bubbly to tickle his nose. After all, isn’t that a ticket to Paris tucked in your stocking?

Merry Christmas to all—and to all, a spicy 2007.

Helen Freytag’s Gingersnaps

Makes 9 to 10 dozen

Ingredients:

1-1/2 cups unsalted butter, softened
2 cups sugar
2 eggs
7 tablespoons molasses
3 tablespoons freshly grated gingerroot
4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cloves
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon baking soda

Extra sugar, as needed

Method:

1. Cream the butter and sugar together. Add the eggs, then the molasses and then the grated ginger, beating well after each addition.
2. Sift the dry ingredients together, with the exception of the extra sugar, and slowly add to the batter, mixing very well. Chill the dough in the refrigerator for at least two hours.
3. When you are ready to bake the cookies, form the dough into small balls, about 3/4-inch in diameter and roll in granulated sugar. Place the balls on a cookie sheet, leaving 2 to 3 inches between them. (If you don’t, the cookies will run together.) Flatten each ball with the bottom of a small glass dipped in sugar.
4. Bake at 350 degrees for 12 to 15 minutes, until the cookies are lightly browned. Remove and let cool slightly before lifting them from the baking sheet. Continue with the rest of the dough.
5. The gingersnaps will keep in a covered tin for about 10 days--as long as you hide the tin from midnight pantry prowlers.