I used to pooh-pooh spice blends. Yes, I was that stupid.
My reasoning was three-fold. When I was growing up:
- Most “spice blends” were just with some seasonings tossed in to bump up the price.
- I never knew what was in a pre-packaged “spice blend.”
- They were pretty awful.
In addition, nothing bugs me more than a recipe that tells me to go out and buy something I can make at home. Like all those chicken noodle soup recipes that say “add 16 ounce can of chicken broth.” Come on! I want to cook, not assemble! And so, swathed in my righteous purism, I eschewed any and all “spice blends,” casting them out into the wilderness where the lesser creatures could partake of them.
Then I went to live overseas, and my world changed.
(Hint: There’s a recipe after the jump.)
The Middle East is a world of scents. The air is infused with them, everywhere you go. Living in Jerusalem, every day I was smacked around by scents and odors and aromas–heady, earthy, basic, rustic, refined, floral, piquant, sharp, sweet, you name it. The animal scent of camels and goats driven in through the city gates after midnight. The rough, sun-filled scent of the burlap bags that hold your rice and beans. The smell of fresh-picked tomatoes, green and fruity at the same time, as they lay in ranks in the shuk, their smiling cheeks shining up at the sun. The woody aroma of thick coffee and the bright scent of minted tea.
And the spices! The top-note of cardamom as you break open the pods. The warm, human smell of cumin toasting in a pan. The chilies hanging in wreaths, the mahlab and other mysterious seeds, and the bags and bags if blended spices, each one unique, each one a special recipe. Za’atar, thick with thyme. Berbere hot enough to burn your hair. And Ras al Hanout, oh my, the Ras al Hanout!
Ras al Hanout means “top of the shop,” which you can translate as “best of the best.” It gathers spices, herbs, and flowers from the corners of the world, the best of the best, into one unbelievably subtle and complex mixture.
There is no single recipe for Ras al Hanout, and the best recipe is probably still tucked away in some nana’s memory, only to be given up, on her deathbed, to her worthiest daughter. Ras al Hanout should have no fewer than a dozen ingredients, and it should blend earthy base notes with nose-wrinkling sharpness, lace heady florals with a low, back of the throat heat. This recipe fills the bill.
Note: If you want to read more about the Middle East, check out my novel, Dreams of the Desert Wind, which is set in Jerusalem and incorporates a lot of my experiences there (and is a fun speculative thriller, too).
Ras al Hanout (Middle Eastern spice blend)
Makes 2 1/2 cups
Ingredients
- 1 whole nutmeg, grated fine
- 5 bay leaves, crumbled
- 4 tbsp cumin seeds, toasted
- 6 tbsp whole coriander seeds, toasted
- 4 tbsp whole allspice
- 8 tbsp black peppercorns
- 2 tbsp dried French thyme
- 4 tbsp ground black cardamom
- 2 tbsp ground cayenne pepper
- 4 tbsp ground cinnamon
- 2 tbsp ground cloves
- 2 tbsp ground ginger
- 2 tbsp ground mace
- 6 tbsp turmeric
- 2 tsp rose-water
Procedure
- As described above, grate the nutmeg on a microplane, and crumble the bay leaves.
- Put the coriander seeds and cumin seeds in a dry skillet on medium heat, toasting them until they become fragrant, about 4-5 minutes.
- Grind the crumbled bay leaves, cumin seeds, coriander seeds, allspice, peppercorns, and thyme in a spice grinder (in batches) until ground fine.
- Mix all the ingredients together in a medium-sized bowl.
- Sprinkle the rose-water over the ingredients; use your fingers to break up the rose-water dollops and spread it evenly throughout the mixture.
- Let sit for about 30 minutes, stirring twice.
- Store in a sealed jar or ziplock in the cupboard.
Notes
- You can replace the whole nutmeg with 2 tbsp ground nutmeg
- Use in stews and soups, in rice and couscous dishes.
- Dredge meats and fish in the spices before grilling.
- This recipe makes 2 1/2 cups–that’s a lot! Parcel it out as gifts for friends and family.
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