Some time back we hosted at our Old Town store a book signing with New York Times Food Columnist, Melissa Clark, who had been making rounds to promote her then-new cookbook, “Cook This Now: 120 Easy and Delectable Dishes You Can’t Wait to Make.” We entertained a small crowd as attendees had the opportunity to meet the author, get her autograph, and pick her brain as she fielded questions about cooking and beyond. The book’s release, and subsequently the event, landed in mid-Fall, so it was no surprise that many of the questions and much of the advice she doled out, centered on, among other seasonal topics, brining, stuffing, or otherwise preparing turkey. Melissa Clark, I realized then, is uniquely talented. Besides being a good cook, she has a way of making some perennially nightmarish kitchen projects sound and look surprisingly manageable. Case in point: I’d been trying for a good while with limited success to concoct my own flavor-infused mayonnaise when I stumbled upon some classic Melissa Clark wisdom in the form of a recent column, “Mayonnaise: Oil, Egg, and a Drop of Magic.”

Photo courtesy of BlackMasterPiece/Mona-Lisa

The drop of magic, as she fittingly calls it, is actually a teaspoon of water, which greatly aids the emulsion process. Creating an emulsion, it should be said, is a markedly and undesirably touchy process, and amounts to the most difficult part of preparing mayonnaise. The good news is that creating an emulsion is, in fact, the only part of preparing mayonnaise, so if you can get the emulsion right – all you really need is a steady hand, some patience, and bit of tenacity – you can make a good mayo.

If you’ve never made your own mayonnaise before, here is what to do:

Crack and separate an egg. Discard the white or save it for use elsewhere (adding the white won’t ruin the mayo, but will cut some of its richness). Place the separated yolk in a mixing bowl, along with a pinch of salt and pepper, a teaspoon of water, a teaspoon of fresh lemon juice, and another teaspoon of  mustard. Whisk these ingredients together until the mixture becomes light yellow and slightly frothy.

Now gather about 3/4 cup of oil of your choice. Vegetable oil and olive oil both work fine, and they can be mixed if you please. Here is the hard part. While vigorously whisking the egg yolk mixture, begin pouring in the oil, one drop at a time.  It is important to add these first drops of oil very slowly. The biggest pitfall of making mayonnaise at home, as anyone will tell you, is adding the oil too quickly.

Keep whisking, and you should see pretty quickly whether or not your emulsion is working out. If everything has gone well, the mixture should begin hold its form in the bowl as it thickens. When this happens, and you can be sure your emulsion has taken, you can begin adding the oil a bit faster (in a thin stream) as you continue whisking furiously until all the oil has been incorporated and you have in front of you a bowl of delicious, viscous mayonnaise.

On the other hand, if you find you are left with a thin, oily soup, then everything has not gone well; your emulsion has broken. Once your emulsion has broken, there is very little you can do to save the mayonnaise, besides starting over. If this is the case, whisk up another yolk and begin again by adding the “broken” mixture, drop by drop, to the yolk until your emulsion takes. Then, revert to your leftover oil and resume the process of slowly adding it to the mixture until well incorporated.

As I’ve said previously, creating an emulsion is not easy, and you shouldn’t be discouraged if your first batch of mayonnaise doesn’t take. Mine didn’t, and many times don’t. Even Melissa Clark herself admits to about a fifty percent success rate with homemade mayonnaise. Still, it is worth trying. When you succeed, you will find that your mayonnaise is richer and more nicely textured than what you are used to bringing home from the store, and you can take some satisfaction in knowing you’ve pulled off a neat a culinary trick (and practiced a bit of science).

After you’ve developed a knack for making mayonnaise by hand, there are a few things you can do to keep from getting bored with your mayo.  Try making a flavor-infused mayonnaise by cooking your favorite flavors into the oil (over low heat) before whisking it with the egg.  A bit of rosemary makes a nice addition to a basic mayonnaise.  Similarly, a clove or two of garlic, cooked with olive oil, can set you up to make a flavorful garlic aioli. There really are endless flavor possibilities for this sort of thing, and the best way to begin tackling all those possibilities is, as usual, to experiment.  So get whisking!

(Note:  If you are having trouble creating an emulsion with a bowl and whisk, try processing your ingredients with an immersion blender or in a food processor. Should you need the extra direction, Youtube has a whole slew of tutorials to get you started.)

The art of brewing may be the oldest craft invented by humanity. In fact, many anthropologists believe that brewing predates agriculture, and may have been the original impetus for the development of permanent agrarian settlements.

Today, the standard formula for beer is malt, water, yeast and hops. In fact, the reinheitsgebot purity law of Germany forbids the use of any other ingredients in beer. However, this has not always been the case. Historically, brewers have utilized a variety of spices to enhance the flavor of their beers. Long before the use of hops became widespread, a blend of spices known as gruit was the primary means of flavoring beer. Often, the spices in gruit also acted as a preservative to protect the beer’s flavor. There are many versions of gruit, each using a variety of spices. Many include esoteric herbs such as sweet gale and mugwort, as well as some more familiar spices, such as juniper berries, ginger, caraway seed, anise seed, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Although the use of gruit largely fell out of favor when hops became the norm, many craft and home brewers, as well as some historic breweries, still use gruit to create unusual and flavorful beers.

Despite Germany’s law prohibiting the use of spices and adjuncts, creative brewmasters elsewhere in the world continued to use spices in many classic beers. For example, Belgian witbier, an unfiltered ale brewed with a mix of barley and wheat malt, is flavored with coriander, orange peel, and other spices such as black pepper and grains of paradise. Scottish Gruit Ale is being produced to this day using gruit as the primary flavoring.

With the modern resurgence of craft beer and homebrewing, new beers are constantly being made using a range of interesting spices and flavors. Rogue Ales of Newport, Oregon makes a Chipotle Ale, which is brewed with chipotle chiles. Dogfish Head brewery of Delaware makes a number of unusual spiced beers, including Sah’Tea (Juniper), Theobroma (Chiles and cacao, annato), Midas Touch (saffron), Namaste (lemongrass), and Pangea (crystallized ginger). Five Rabbit Brewery of Chicago makes a 5 Vulture amber ale with ancho chiles. Winter and fall seasonal beer are also often flavored with spices. Pumpkin beers are spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, clove and other baking spices. Holiday Ales are often flavored with juniper and ginger, and Wassail is scented with cinnamon, nutmeg, and citrus.

Homebrewers can get even more creative with spices in beer. Spices such as licorice, vanilla, sage and lime peel have been used by daring homebrewers to delicious effect.

Grains of Paradise

Almost any spice can be successfully used for flavoring beer. Below is a list of some of the most popular spices for brewing:

• Grain of Paradise: One of the most important spices in modern brewing. A member of the ginger family, this seed contains α-humulene, which is also the primary flavor component of hops.
• Coriander: The seed of the cilantro plant. Traditionally used in many beers, especially witbier and saison.
• Orange Peel: Typically the peel of a bitter orange such as Seville or Curaçao.
• Vanilla Beans: Popular for stouts and porters, as well as winter beers.
• Pumpkin Pie Spice, Cake Spice or Apple Pie Spice: Baking spice blends used in pumpkin ale and fall and winter seasonals.
• Juniper: The primary flavoring in gin, juniper is used in many traditional European beers, as well as holiday ales.

visit thespicehouse.com for more brewing spices.

In the past couple of years, I have gotten the chance to work with some really wonderful spices. It’s always fun to rediscover old favorites in new and interesting ways, and play with delightful new spices. A few months ago we got in a spice that really wowed me: Ultra Blue Lavender. This gorgeous, deep violet lavender had incredibly strong color and fragrance, that made our normally wonderful lavender pale in comparison. 

Lavender is a fantastic spice to cook with. It is a key ingredient in herbs de provence, a classic seasoning for lamb, poultry and vegetables. It is a classic flavoring for tea, and a wonderful addition to pastries, shortbreads, panna cottas and crème brulees. And of course one of my favorites: Lavender soda.

I decided to whip up a quick simple syrup and give my own lavender soda a shot. Simple syrup is a great way to steep at that lavender flavor into an easy to use addition to pastry, drinks, and desserts. And its also, well, simple to make.

For this syrup I steeped two heaped tablespoons of lavender with 2 cups boiling water and let it steeped for 10-15 minutes. Then, strain the water into a saucepan with 2 cups of sugar. Bring to simmer. As soon as all the sugar is dissolved keep simmering for 2 or 3 more minutes.  Remove from heat, cool and transfer to container. Store in the fridge.

To make the soda, simply combine the syrup with seltzer water. I usually use about a table spoon of syrup for a short tumbler glass. Garnish with a twist of lemon, and if you are feeling really fancy, you can rim the glass with a little of our lavender vanilla sugar.

This soda, is also very adaptable for spring cocktails, and the syrup can be used when hot to temper egg whites for meringues.  Have fun and happy cooking!

Sweet or Heat?

Some like it hot, while some might like it spicy, some could even go so far as enjoying it hot and spicy… But what’s the difference between hot and spicy? As spice merchants, we regularly hear and sympathize with the confusion between the words “hot” and “spicy”. A lot of folks will hear the word “spicy” and immediately believe that a seasoning will be “hot”, which is a reasonable but not always correct assumption to make. In this edition of Seasoning Snafus, I’ll try to clear up some of the semantic confusion between these two words and show the best ways to spice up or heat up a meal.

As spice merchants, one of our prime responsibilities is educating our customers about the use of our product. Spices, herbs, and seasonings can be plutonium in the kitchen, without the right knowledge and care they can make dinner a disaster with just a few shakes. We would never want someone to take home a spice and ruin a perfectly good dish because we simply didn’t articulate a product’s proper use. So, I’ve decided to start to compile a short list of some of the most common seasoning mishaps and misconceptions. With each of these posts I’ll list a new common seasoning snafu based on ingredient, why it happens so often, and how to avoid it.

Hot or Spicy: Colloquial Confusion from Capsaicin to Curries

When ordering from a local Indian restaurant, one might tell the waiter that they like their curry “spicy”, yet when the curry reaches the table it might be anything but “hot”. In the english language, there are a lot of words that we use interchangeably which at their cores have very different meanings. Colloquially, folks in the United States might say a chili pepper is “hot” or “spicy”, although the word “spicy” is simply defined as having an abundance of spices. Not all spices or spice blends are “hot” though, take for example the fore mentioned curry, which is certainly filled with an abundance of spices but may not have any “hot” spices in it. Don’t fret if this is already confusing, it is.

So if “spicy” isn’t always “hot”, than what is “hot”? Well, “hot” can mean several things when regarding food, although it always refers to the presence of heat. The sensation of heat can be found in food in distinctly different manners, either as the radiating heat in a cup of hot coffee, the pungent bite of hot mustard, or in the masochistic mouth scorching heat from a Bhut Jolokia Ghost Pepper. Even these multiple meanings for heat can lead to confusion though, as I might like hot chilis in my gazpacho but I would always want it served at a cold temperature. As another example, some might like to season a New York Strip with the hot bite of cracked peppercorns but might not want that same steak prepared with a hot chile powder steak rub. And what about hot wasabi? More confusion abounds.

To better define the sensation of heat, setting aside the meaning of radiating or physical heat, there are several distinct heat sensations that are garnered from different spices. The sensation of heat, sometimes confusingly referred to as the “flavor of heat”, can present itself in our mouths from different chemical components in seasonings. Three of the most common of these heat inducing chemicals are piperine, isothiocyanates, and capsaicin. Piperine, a natural chemical compound found in black peppercorns gives a hot peppery bite. The chemical group know as isothiocyanates give a pungent kick to mustard seeds, wasabi, and horseradish. Finally, the best known of these chemicals is most certainly capsaicin, the chemical sometimes loved or loathed when consuming hot chili peppers.

All three of these chemical compounds bring the physical sensation of heat when present in foods, which in some cultures is known as “piquance”. Piquance, piquant, or piquancy is an english term that refers specifically to the sensation of heat in food that presents itself chemically. Although piquancy is traditionally thought of as a flavor, it is actually a tactile sensation. As many well know, the sensation that capsaicin provides in our mouths can also be felt on our skin. Anyone who has made the mistake of handling hot chili peppers then forgetting to wash their hands before using the bathroom will understand just how tactile this sensation is.

Piquant is a great word to use when speaking about heat in food, although it has seemed to work its way out of popular use in recent years. In the common north american lexicon, we still most often speak of the presence of heat in a spice or blend as “hot”, and the absence of heat as a “sweet” spice. Piquant might be a great technical term to impress other foodies and english teachers, although it will often receive puzzled looks if seen on a lunch menu. So at the Spice House we have decided to continue to label our spices with the “sweet” or “hot” terms. This might not be as technically accurate as “piquance”, but we think “sweet” and “hot” can be bit easier to understand. Plus, from a marketing point of view, I know I would just be confused if I saw a jar labeled Piquant Curry Powder.

There might be a reason you love a good curry and can’t stomach spinach. A group of European scientists have begun work on a project that could eventually explain everything from your insatiable sweet tooth to your superhuman tolerance for spicy foods. New research on the “genetics of food preferences” suggests our tastes and distastes for certain foods may have their origins in our evolutionary histories, and that our genetic makeup may actually dictate which foods we find attractive, and which ones we abhor. The project – officially called Marco Polo (after the explorer who famously travelled the trade route centuries ago) – examines DNA from a number of cultures and communities along Eurasia’s historic Silk Road in an effort to determine how genetic variation translates to palatal differences within and across cultures. And while Marco Polo’s orchestrators still have significant work to do before the project sees its conclusion, early research has already turned up some interesting results which could, given time, lead to advancements in food science and changes in the direction of food industry research.

The Silk Road is home to ongoing research on the genetics of food preference.

Paolo Gasparini, a medical geneticist at the University of Trieste (Italy), and Enrico Balli, Medialab Director at the International School of Advanced Studies in the same city, conceived the Marco Polo project as a means of investigating and mapping the “genetic roots of food preference and of the senses that contribute to it.” The two (who would later enlist the help of Terra Madre co-founder Lilia Smelkova) wanted to know for certain whether individual and/or group dietary preferences could be boiled down to specific coding within our DNA. It now appears it can. More importantly, they wanted a better understanding of how those genetic properties are, in turn, manifest as behavior. In other words, Gasparini and Balli were not only concerned with why we appreciate or detest the foods we do – observing the presence of relevant DNA markers satisfied that curiosity – but they also wondered very specifically how those markers come to influence our opinions and manipulate our dietary behaviors.

What they discovered, makes sense and even seems obvious in retrospect. It turns out that our tastes for certain foods depend on more than just our sense of taste. In fact, our opinions about food are shaped by each and every one of our senses. How many times have you heard someone declare they might like eggs, for example, if only it weren’t for the off-putting, gelatinous texture? Similarly, have you ever been driven mad by the crunch of a crisp apple bitten or a handful of nuts munched?  These are reactions that, while having nothing to do with our sense of taste, play an important role in determining our dietary preferences. Thus, while we may do our best to avoid wrinkling our noses at the smell of asafoetida or to overlook the awkward appearance of eggplant, we are, in doing so, struggling against our own biology.  We are hardwired to have these reactions.  They are the vestiges of a different era in human history, long gone by, when an adverse reaction (or lack thereof) to, say, the color or bitterness of poisonous berries could have been the difference between life and death.

Visual cues such as bright colors are one of many influences on our dietary interests. (Photo by Sean Gallup/Getty Images)

So why the Silk Road? Gasparini and Balli had a solid theory – that genetics, not lifestyle, account for the differences in food preferences across cultures – but needed some corroborating evidence. In other words, they needed to locate and isolate specific genes that could be shown to code for characteristics associated with dietary preference. What the Silk Road had to offer, in terms of contributing to a solution to the problem, was a series of cultures and communities that, while separate and autonomous in their own right, still belonged in many ways to a larger community in the Silk Road itself.  The history of the trade route was such that the communities along it had long and extensively exchanged “goods, ideas, and genes.”  This is important because it meant that much of the Silk Road community was genetically and culturally homogenous – or, they shared very similar genetic material in addition to practicing similar lifestyles, eating similar foods, etc.  The fact that the communities on the Silk Road were similar in so many regards was exactly what made it attractive as a locale for the Marco Polo Project.  That made it easier for Gasparini and Balli to trace any differences – in this case, those in food preference – to genetic variation, which they did:

The scientists have already identified eight variants in known genes, including one for an ion channel involved in sensing spicy-hotness, which are associated with a taste for particular foods. And they have found that variants of the gene for the TAS1R2 protein, part of a sweetness receptor, are associated with a strong liking for vodka and white wine (N. Pirastu et al. J. Food Sci.; in the press).

These early results, although by no means exhaustive, are significant in more ways than one.  Most basically, they allow us to interpret our own dietary preferences and limitations on a personal level.  Everything from your incredibly low tolerance for spicy foods to the fact that tomatoes give you killer heartburn may be traced back to your own genetics.  And while it may not mean you can necessarily change these dietary phenomena – sorry, but you won’t be chomping on Jolokias any time soon – you can, for the time being, at least understand them.

Indeed, we can potentially learn a lot about ourselves from what has already come of the Marco Polo project (and what presumably will as more data is gathered), but Gasparini’s and Balli’s research has significance beyond explaining our personal quirks. Their findings speak to both the previously unclear details of our evolutionary history, and the potential future of food science.  Yes, just as we may be able to exploit these findings to better understand our dietary past, we also will most certainly put it to use to influence our dietary futures. Food companies are already seizing on such data as they search for ways to adapt their product to regional markets.  Furthermore, and more importantly, the Marco Polo research may lead to ways to create healthier foods that still satisfy the dietary urges that we are, we’ve learned, genetically compelled to have. And if the fruits of this research turn out to be a product that tastes as good as a fatty steak without clogging my arteries, I am all for it.

Our Old Town storefront pays tribute to the flavors of the Silk Road.

As a non-scientist, it can be hard for me to fully appreciate the significance and implications of research like that of the Marco Polo project.  But it does, at least, make sense of behaviors I see in our store on a regular basis.  Scarcely does a customer walk into the store without commenting aloud that they are either enamored with or overwhelmed by the scent of the place. In the same vein, customers will commonly declare the beauty of our paprika, laud the depth of flavor in our Back of the Yards Garlic Pepper Butchers Rub, or admire the aroma of our saffron as they open the cabinet in which it is housed. And every once in a while, a taste of our Vulcan’s Fire Salt will send a curious customer running for the water cooler, while his buddy plays it cool, sampling a second shake.  I hadn’t ever spent a lot of time thinking about these various reactions, but I can now appreciate the fact that they happen as they do, for a reason.  It’s all in the genes.

One of the benefits of working at The Spice House is the opportunity to have new and unique sensory experiences on a regular basis. Just how our senses are stimulated depends on the nature of the task we are handling at any given moment, but the truth is there is very little work to be done at our store that won’t open the eyes, clear the sinuses, or intrigue the taste buds. Indeed, there is a lot to take in at our little shop, from exotic sights and scents to vibrant flavors and even sounds (our founder, the late Bill Penzey Sr., often proclaimed there was music in the spices themselves, although it might go undetected by the untrained or inattentive ear). Of all the work at The Spice House, however, there may not be a job that so deeply buries the hand in sensory stimuli as blending spices.

Our blenders take their time in the blending room pretty seriously. That is because the blender – there is only one of us on duty each day – is solely responsible for the quality and consistency of the blends he puts out. It may not sound like much, but measuring and keeping track of long lists of ingredients can become surprisingly concentration-intensive. On that note, a closed door can be a blender’s best friend, insofar as it keeps any distractions outside blending room, out. It also keeps every bit of noise, aroma, dust and debris, in. Our blending room is small. Consequently, a day’s worth of blending means spending a good amount of time in a tight space, surrounded by a high volume of sometimes pleasant, sometimes overwhelming scents and sounds.

Whether the senses are punished or rewarded depends, of course, on the blends being made and the ingredients going into them. It happens that some of our tastiest, best-selling blends are also some of the most difficult and trying to make. So, when one of us is whipping up a batch of Brisket of Love, for example, the blending room may be clouded with woody and pungent smoke powders that will burn through the nostrils and reduce the unmasked blender to fits of coughs and wheezes. Our Vulcan’s Fire Salt is, in the same vein, another blend that taxes the senses as it is prepared. Tending to a batch of Vulcan’s means, first, handling a damp chili mash whose acrid, vinegary aroma only seems to grow stronger as the chilies are warmed and dehydrated in our basement facilities. Once bone dry, we will mix the dehydrated chilies with the rest of what makes Vulcan’s, Vulcan’s, including the most punishing of ingredients: pure habañero chili powder. Seasoned blenders will typically add habañero powder last to any recipe that requires it, as it is easily airborne and, once in the air, will torture the unprotected lips, eyes, and nose to no end. Clear sinuses and a slow-growing burn in the corners of the mouth are perhaps the most common and unavoidable symptoms of having blended a batch of Fire Salt, although I’m sure that our other blenders could list a few more if pressed.

That said, and as treacherous as it can be to bury oneself to the elbows in hot chilies, working in the blending room can also have a tremendous sensory upside. Although some of our best-selling blends can take their toll on the eyes and nose, the vast majority of our blends are a pleasure to make and a joy to take in. Herbes de Provence is among the first blends to come to mind in terms of blends that reward the senses. Not only is it a light-weight blend (which makes it easier to lift and stir), full of sweet and fragrant herbs – French thyme and tarragon, for example – but it tends to fill the blending room with the delicate, floral aroma of what has become one of my favorite ingredients: lavender. The same goes for a blend like our Chicago Old Town Spiced Sugar, which smells and tastes as sweet as it sounds. Cardamom, whose scent is so enticing yet so difficult to put into words, is the key ingredient here, as it mixes with China Cinnamon and our own Vanilla Sugar to create something truly special and brilliantly aromatic. To be in such a small space, encompassed by these kinds of exotic scents, is certainly rewarding. Even more rewarding, however, are the occasions when, after working hard to blend up a batch, we can take a moment to sneak a taste of the finished product.

I could go on about the array of wonderful (and not so pleasant) scents that variously inhabit the blending room, but our sensory experiences as blenders go far beyond smelling spices. Blending spices can also be a visual experience. It is always eye-catching, even artistic, to watch the individual piles of measured spices as they are mixed in the blending bowl during the first few turns of the scoop. There is a natural beauty to the spices we work with, whose wide array of colors draw on nothing but what the earth has to offer, and the process of blending them into a single, equally colorful, finished product, is oddly amusing, almost mystical. It is difficult to describe the stunning visual effect – the patterns and colorful swirls – of half-mixed spices in a chrome blending bowl, and there is a certain amount of depth and contrast that is lost to a camera and lens. Still, I assure you – and I think any blender at our store would – that it is worth seeing. It is something special.

I recognize that there is a limit to what flowery language in a blog post can do to communicate the many sensory phenomena that make our store what it is, and that is a shame. I could describe the robust earthiness of Mexican oregano as it is grated into a blend like Gary Wiviott’s Barbecue Rub, but that earthiness is better smelled than described. I could try to speak to the color and spectral diversity of, say, our paprika – they may not cover 50 shades of red, but they do vary more than you might expect – yet I think these subtle differences are better viewed in person. And I could try to put into words the impact that MSG and its characteristic umami flavor has on a blend like our Buttermilk Dressing Base, as opposed to the very similar, MSG-free Ukrainian Village Seasoning, but I’m certain the difference is so subtle that it should actually be tasted. Of all things, though, what least translates to words on paper is the sounds of the store. To spend time in our store is really the only way to grasp what our founder meant when he said that there is music in the spices. Unless you find your way into one of our shops – and even then, unless you stop and listen – it is impossible to experience this music, which is the heart and soul of our business. Of course, you may hear a different tune than me, and I may pick up on a different cadence than my coworkers, managers, or the store owners, but the music is there nonetheless. For me, the music exists in the low-to-high rumble of 40 pounds of garlic, dropping into an empty barrel; the rhythmic, alternating scratch and swish of metal on metal, as our blenders turn spices in a bowl; or the occasional, high-pitched staccato of tiny metal scoops filling tiny glass jars with spice. Whatever the tune, the fact of the matter is the music is there if you care to stop and listen.

And while the conditions in our store may change from day to day – the sights may change, the music may be louder or quieter, the scents more or less pronounced – and the state of the blending room may shift from blend to blend, one thing at The Spice house is always certain: it is never in the nature of our store to bore the senses. So, please, come in and see for yourself –and hear, and smell, and taste – what we’ve got to offer. A unique human experience is waiting for you.

The chef’s eyes light up when showing us his new toy!

I was at a culinary conference in New York earlier this year, where I booked an optional tour to Blue Hill. Chef Dan Barber was to lead the tour;  following the tour, he was to engage in a discussion panel led by  former food columnist for the New York Times,  Molly O’Neill,   while we enjoyed a wonderful luncheon. This was a very expensive optional tour, which I attempted to justify to my husband by showing him that Food and Wine Magazine had honored this restaurant by including them in their list of the “world’s top ten life changing restaurants.”

After a scenic train ride up the Hudson, we arrived at the picturesque setting in Pocantico for an informative tour. It appears that there is virtually nothing here that this farm does not produce, it is a marvelously self-sustaining property. The green house alone is 22,000 square feet. The people working here had an incredible amount of knowledge about their work, and apparently many are interns. Just like a high end kitchen has people lined up to do a stage for what they might learn, this farm has highly educated people out of agricultural colleges also vying to  work at Stone Barns, gratis, for this amazing opportunity of the potential knowledge into which they might tap. They seemed excited to show us their three composting areas, we were told composting is really like cooking! Ironically, in this whole beautiful enormous life-as-art farm, our guide was most excited by the new smoker they had just purchased.  I have seem this excitement for a new smoker, or love for an existing smoker, among many chefs, it seems  to be primarily a guy thing!

Four lovely variations of pork.

We met Craig the pig farmer, who told us all sorts of interesting tidbits about breeding Berkshire pigs. Here is a recipe for happy pigs. Happy pigs also made for a very happy group of lunch guests! It was just one wow dish after another. They had everything, no matter how minute, figured out from the roots up, including making their own sugar from beets, and charcoal from deer antlers and lobster shells. Spices might be about the only thing they were not growing there. Green houses could produce spices but because of the height needed for some of the tall trees, this would have to be prohibitively expensive. Yet I would not be surprised if at some point they tackle this also.

“Life changing” may be going a little too far, and amazing might fall a bit short, but if you ever have a chance to go here, take it. You will not be disappointed.

Healthy and aromatic, parchment baked salmon

The pungent mixture of curative spices, served as delectable fine dining.

Throughout history, many herbalists, doctors, and chefs have touted the health benefits of spices in the kitchen. Nearly every individual spice and herb we carry has at some point been used as a holistic remedy. Cultures the world over have long turned to the healing properties of spices to ease pains, fight deseases, and slow aging. Even now, every few months we hear about a new study proving the long known health benefits of a particular spice. Here, at the Spice House, we are far from doctors or herbalist healers, we are but humble spice merchants. It is from this perspective that I’ve noticed that there is one thing that isn’t always mentioned in these modern medical studies of spices or holistic herbalist books. Cooking with spices isn’t just healthy, it is also delicious.

This recipe starts with a healthy french cooking technique known as “en papillote”. Simply translated as “in packets”, “en papillote” is the time tested use of parchment paper envelopes to steam proteins while baking. This technique works especially well for preparing fish, the moisture trapped in the packets produces tender aromatic fish fillets without the threat of overcooking. The real joy of this technique is when you get to open the packets at the table, the vaporous rush of the parchment’s contained essence greats the lucky diner with a fragrant waft of the meal to come.

Cooking in parchment is easy, here I’ve drawn up a handy guide to show how to cut and fold the paper into tasty fish envelopes.

Cooking “en papillote” may be french in tradition, although this recipe packs an extra layer of tasty indian Ayurvedic spices. The use of Ayurvedic spices for a healthy life style has been all the rage lately, even Doctor Oz has toted their health benefits. Many of these spices have been shown through studies to aid in weight loss, preventing signs of aging, and even shown to prevent cancer. I’m all for preventing cancer or slimming one’s waistline, but frankly I just like a meal to taste good. That’s the best part about cooking with these spices though, no longer does health food have to be thought of as bland medicine but rather as filling savory dishes that are fit for the finest of restaurants or even a romantic homemade dinner for two.

I’ve singled out a few spices in this recipe that offer a maximum amount of flavor, along with all the curative powers they have to offer. The combination of oniony asafoetida powder, sweet ground fenugreek seeds, and a dash of musky golden turmeric serve as a healthful and simple robust potato and onion masala for the salmon to steam on. A dash of fines herbs and some slices of lemon atop the salmon filets is all that is needed to finish off this fantastic recipe. Enjoy!

Parchment Baked Salmon with Ayurvedic Spices (serves 2)

Ingredients:

• two single portion fresh salmon filets
• one sweet onion
• six to eight medium red skin potatoes
• two to three medium fresh peeled carrots
• one lemon
• dry chardonay
• two teaspoons asafoetida powder
• two teaspoons ground fenugreek seeds
• one teaspoon ground turmeric
• one teaspoon fines herbs
• coconut oil
• A pinch of sea salt
• Fresh ground white pepper to taste (black pepper may be substituted)

Pickles.  Without a doubt my favorite food group. This briny treat is an excellent  accent to sandwiches, salads, bloody mary’s and (in my house) midnight snacking. The perfect pickle balances sourness, sweetness and spice in a way that makes them a truly addictive snack sensation. Typically I get my pickle fix from fine vendors across Chicago. But this fall I decided to try my hand at homemade refrigerator pickles.

There are a few different ways “pickle” something, varying from fermented pickles to different brines you can use. I decided to start with refrigerator pickles. That is, pickles that are brined, but not sealed and canned like most pickles you would buy in the grocery store. Instead you brine them and then throw them in the fridge, where they will keep for a couple of months.

The beauty of pickles is their flexibility. Not only can you make classic pickles, with loads of garlic, dill and cucumbers, but you can also experiment with different vegetable, vinegars, and spices. Looking for an interesting addition to your lunch box? Why not try carrots pickled with dill seed and apple cider vinegar? Or try pickled beets for a homemade gourmet salad topper. Once get a brine going you can literally pickle anything!

There are a few key ingredients to any pickle brine. Vinegar, salt, and sugar are the main elements at work. Vinegar is a powerful preservative and flavoring agent. White vinegar is the most common, but apple cider vinegar is nice for a mellower pickle, and red or white wine vinegar can be added for flavor. Salt is also key. A lot of older pickling recipes will call for pickling salt. This is typically a non-iodized salt. If you can’t find pickling salt you can substitute kosher salt. Just remember that kosher salt is lighter than pickling salt, so make sure to measure it by weight not volume.

The final ingredient for any good brine is the spices. The spices are really what give pickles their characteristics. The spiciness of cloves, the sharpness of black peppercorns, and the mellowness of dill seed give pickles their true character. The Spice House signature pickling spice, combines many of these and is a fantastic place to start to start making your own pickles.

Here is an easy recipe for pickle brine to get you started. Use pickling spice or experiment with your own flavor combinations.

Refrigerator Pickles

1 cup vinegar

1 cup water

¼ cup sugar

1 ½ tablespoons kosher salt

2 cloves garlic, lightly crushed

1 tablespoon pickling spice

1-2 large cucumbers, sliced ¼ inch thick

1 small onion, sliced

Combine all the ingredient s in a saucepan. Bring to a boil and simmer for two minutes. In a sterilized quart jar layer, the cucumber and onion slices until the jar is full, leaving about a half inch of space at the top.  Pour the brine over the pickles until the jar is full and the cucumbers are covered. Let cool uncovered until it is room temperature, then cover and refrigerate. The pickles can be eaten in as a soon as an hour but will develop more flavor the longer they set. The pickles will keep nicely in the fridge for at least a month, but mine are usually never around that long!

We at the Spice House would like to extend our sincerest congratulations to newlyweds Dimitri and Naomi Moore. Dimi and Naomi tied the knot on August 25^th at Pilsen’s Living Room Lounge, following a seven-month engagement. It is always special to play a part in a story with a happy ending, and we were honored to learn that the Moores remember our store fondly as the place they began their romantic journey together.

Newlyweds Dimitri and Naomi Moore pose in front of the site of their first date, our Old Town store. Photography by Jonathan Zuluaga.

We met Dimitri and Naomi a few weeks back, when they showed up at our Old Town store in full-on wedding garb. If you’ve never been in our store, it can get awful spicy on the sales floor as we are usually hustling to fill orders or help customers with their shopping lists. Things like turmeric and paprika can be tricky enough to wash off our hands, shoes, and jar scoops, so we naturally wondered what on Earth anyone would be doing in our store in a white wedding dress and tuxedo. We probed a bit, not wanting to be too nosey, and found out the most obvious explanation was, in this case, the right one: they were getting married!   They had come to The Spice House, Dimitri explained, in celebration of their wedding and to take photos commemorating their first date, which had happened in 2010 at, of all places, our Old Town store.

Their story really is a nice one, and goes to show that true love can be as much an exercise in persistence as anything. Dimitri and Naomi met in 2008 at a youth leadership conference called ILS (Illinois Leadership Seminar). From there, the road to matrimony wasn’t without detours. Dimitri expressed mild disappointment when he learned that the couple’s first hangout at Penny’s in Wrigleyville wasn’t a “date” in Naomi’s book. Still, over the next 2 years, Dimitri and Naomi continued to spend time with one another, cultivating a lasting and genuine friendship that would ultimately blossom into romance.

Things changed in 2010 when the pair agreed to meet at Piper’s Alley Movie Theatre in Old Town for a viewing of My Name is Khan. When that didn’t work out as planned – the film was dropped and damaged by an employee, so the screening was cancelled – Dimi and Naomi made do by sharing an impromptu dinner at Flat Top Grill followed by a stroll through Old Town, which would be their first real date. That’s where we came into the picture. Along their walk, Dimitri and Naomi made stops at The Fudge Pot, Old Town Oil, and of course The Spice House (no, they weren’t on the Chicago Food Planet Food Tour)! And the rest, as they say, is history. Dimitri proposed to Naomi in January of this year, Naomi accepted, and everything went off without a hitch!

Our Pilsen Latino Seasoning is a favorite of newlyweds Dimitri and Naomi. They recommend trying it on Roasted Salmon. Photography by Jonathan Zuluaga.

We are truly happy for the Moores – true love is something rare and special – and we feel privileged to have been a part of the earliest makings of their story together. We hadn’t any idea when they showed up for their wedding photo-shoot that we played a role in the early phases of their relationship, but we’re sure glad we did!

Of course, this isn’t the first time a lasting romance has had its roots in one of our stores. Our owners, Tom and Patty Erd, are the original Spice House couple (or maybe Patty’s parents, Spice House founders Bill and Ruth Penzey, deserve that title), and we have since seen younger generations of Spice House employees engage and marry. Each time it happens, it is something special and something unique. And, for some reason, it keeps on happening. It must be something in the spices.

So, once again, congratulations to the newest, honorary Spice House couple:  Dimitri and Naomi Moore. Best of luck, you two (although we don’t think you’ll need it)!