Spice trade shaped history
I recently finished reading Andrew Dalby’s
”
Dangerous Tastes: The Story of Spices.
”
I hadn’t known there was such an organization, but the Guild of
Food Writers named it the 2001 Food Book of the Year, if that
counts for anything.
Spice trade shaped history
I recently finished reading Andrew Dalby’s “Dangerous Tastes: The Story of Spices.”
I hadn’t known there was such an organization, but the Guild of Food Writers named it the 2001 Food Book of the Year, if that counts for anything.
What I found in the thin book was a series of fascinating stories, each told around another flavor. In short, the book makes a convincing case that spices shaped nations, trade routes and world history itself.
Our own small urban garden brims over with herbs. A row of bay laurel trees shelters flocks of birds. Lavender nods in the breeze. Different thymes sprout at the edges of pathways. Sage, parsley, marjoram, oregano and – in warm months – basil all have their spots.
But spices are outside of our realm.
I recently received a gift of a small pepper mill and no fewer than seven different varieties of pepper. Who would have thought?
Varieties from South America, India, Indonesia and Vietnam compete for attention. And each is different. South American pepper is assertively spicy, even hot. Vietnamese is floral and complex. Anyway, the gift has been kind of a fun adventure for all of us.
“Dangerous Tastes” introduces readers to spices that are all-but-forgotten, balsam of Peru, zedoary, spikenard, gum guggul and the like.
A quick enquiry revealed that none of my co-workers was familiar with the dried resin powder asafoedita, or hing.
Because we are fond of East Indian cuisine, a small jar of the stuff is in our kitchen, so I brought it in to share. It’s typically used in very small quantities in a variety of dishes. It imparts flavors of garlic, onions and leeks, but its odor – and taste if used in larger quantities – is that of sharp, stale, human sweat.
Whatever could have prompted someone to think, “Hmmm, essence of locker room. I wonder how it tastes?”
According to Dalby the stuff traveled from Iran and became well established in Roman cuisine, where it was in well over half of the recipes in the landmark “Apicius,” an encyclopedic cooking guide from the Fourth or Fifth Century.
If my description so far hasn’t tempted you to run out and buy some, its nickname of “devil’s dung,” might just turn the trick.
The stories of more common spices are more inviting. As shipping began to shrink the world, trade began with the spice islands in the Malay archipelago.
Nutmeg and mace were the rarest and most costly ingredients used in the Parthian court of early Iran. Nutmeg, the aromatic fruit of the tree Myristica fragrans, comes from the Banda Islands. It yields not one spice, but three. The true nutmeg is the kernel of a dried seed. Mace is the kernel’s red, fibrous coating, and the ripe outer fruit.
Cloves were once thought to be sold from a remote valley island by genies. That’s hardly a surprise, since spices typically passed through many hands on their way to distant markets.
And people have waged war over exotic flavors. The Genoese and Venetians struggled over control of the spice trade in medieval Europe, and Venice even urged the soldiers of the Fourth Crusade to sack Constantinople, thus giving the city state control over that city’s lucrative trade.
A taste for the exotic even helped launch Christopher Columbus’ first voyage of discovery. One of the things Columbus hoped to find was a source of pepper. While he was unsuccessful, he did bring chili home to Europe.
And for that, I remain profoundly grateful.
