Category: Blog (Page 17 of 30)

by Peggy Markel

A woman soaks shark fins to place between bamboo mats. She can sell them to restaurants at $25 a pop. She wouldn’t if she knew better. A coconut shredder shreds coconuts continuously. The first press offers cream, the second press, milk. No green curry worth its ‘milk’ would be made with anything other than fresh. The next stand is heaped with unidentifiable greens. Many are from the basil family, holy and hairy. They are bunched up near their root companions, ginger, galangal, lemongrass and shallot. Flat baskets of chilis add spice to the view, while kafir limes and leaves give you a clue. Where am I?

An outdoor market in Thailand. With tasty ingredients like these, I can see why they call it the ‘land of smiles.’

There are five components to a dish; sweet, sour, salty, pungent (spicy), and bitter. They say if you eat all five in the same meal, your organs will be balanced and your senses too. Asian flavors zing and play merrily on the palate. They compliment each other well. What grows together goes together, and the list is long. Seemingly complex flavors come from very few ingredients. It’s quick and dirty–or rather, clean. Most dishes come together in a matter of minutes. Chopping and pounding are the real time consuming tasks here.

Arriving in Thailand was like being launched into sudden summer; the cooler season was lost somewhere over the international dateline. I found it straightaway in Bangkok in a refreshing spicy soup; Tom Yam Goong, with shrimp, lemongrass, ginger and kafir lime. Sour is the taste of spring in Thailand and deliciously medicinal. I loved exploring the cuisine from the base of fresh ingredients first, not from the familiar dishes themselves. The key players quickly made themselves known. Numero uno: Lemongrass.

Whether finely chopped or left in pieces, lemongrass is king. It marinates fish, flavors broths, and it’s the backbone of green curry. The long grassy leaves are a stomach tonic and can make a pleasurable tea. Dress it up with honey or a little sugar syrup, it becomes a sophisticated beverage to sip in the day. Add vodka and lime juice and call it ‘Thai Noon’at night. A thick layered stalk, lemongrass grows long and tall. The word alone conjures the sensation of a soft breeze from the Orient.

I found the mixture of lemongrass, ginger or galangal, shallot and chili to be the “mirepoix” of Thai cuisine. These base notes form the body of a dish, just like the holy trinity of carrot, onion and celery.

Fish sauce (a slow sun-baked elixir that drips from dried anchovies) is used for salt (make sure it’s at least 60%), and balances lime juice and stock (chicken or fish) which gives all those flavors a home. A touch of palm sugar balances certain dishes with a deep note that doesn’t say ‘sweet’. It says ‘peace’~ lets get together and create harmony. It can also mellow an over-the-top spiciness, so that the chili doesn’t dominate, but delights. Coriander root, seeds, and leaves, scallions, garlic, mint and tamarind take the dishes in various directions. It all makes sense once you start cooking, kind of like life.

Noodle pots are common on the street. It is often the cheapest and healthiest way to eat. Thai people will use chopsticks with noodles but prefer the fork and spoon for rice and accompanying dishes. Rice is a long discourse. But for the most part, they eat more glutinous ‘sticky’ rice in the north, and black, red, white, and mostly steamed white in the south. Older rice is preferable over new as they feel it has more flavor and depth.

Various forms of eggplant play an important role. The tiny pea eggplant cute, crunchy and bitter is used most often in a green curry with chicken. Ping pong eggplant, quick to cook, is sliced and added to various dishes and soups.

Thai basil, hot basil, and sweet basil are hardly anything like the basil we know and love, but it is a superhero in its own right. Pea vines and morning glory vines are actually a delicacy, sautéed with garlic and oyster sauce.

These rather exotic flavors reflect an exotic land. Thailand was never colonized and has the longest ruling Monarch. King Bhumibol Adulyadej (Rama IX) has ruled Thailand in a democracy since 1946. He is now 83 years old. The Royal family is well-loved and highly-respected. Worries abound that his passing could be the death of democracy in Thailand.

The elephant is the symbol of Thailand and a sign of strength and good luck (when the trunk is turned up). Elephant symbols are everywhere, which didn’t surprise me, but when I sat down for a three dollar foot massage one evening on the streets of Chang Mai, I didn’t expect to see one’s snout sniffing around me catching me unaware. A ‘mahout’ (elephant trainer) who had been quietly walking behind me (is there an elephant in the room?) shoved sugar cane into my hand. ‘Feed my elephant, feed my elephant, she’s hungry!’

I fed the very agile and nibbly snout a midnight snack, to which she promptly pooed and peed large amounts right in front of the ‘Heaven Hut’. Fifty cents went his way and I had a special moment right there, eye-to-eye with the elephant on the street and so did she. I considered it a good omen.

A longboat trip up the Mekong the next day took us to Chang Rai to a jungle retreat, complete with an elephant camp. We were able to spend more time with elephants and their babies, feeding the mothers green bananas. I learned that the previous evening’s entertainment was actually a common problem. Now that the logging industry has banned the use of elephants, mahouts are desperate to keep their elephants fed and working, so they hit the streets. At the Elephant Camp, they are developing a program where mahouts can actually come and be with their elephants instead of selling them to invest in more; thus, keeping mahouts and elephants off the street. I had no idea I was supporting abuse. I was appreciative of the lesson and now plan to donate in honor of their well-being.

Thailand has changed radically from my first visit twenty years ago. Old Bangkok is hidden amongst the lower level high rises, and the night bazaars are full of cheap nothings. I no longer saw street carts of deep fried beetles and tarantula. A tuk tuk (three wheeled motorcyle taxi) is more expensive than a taxi, and a night’s stay in a good hotel could seriously dip into a college fund. The floating market, one of Bangkok’s best, is more like a floating 7-11. People in the outlying areas seem to be more interested in goods, rather than fresh food. I made an assumption that this had to do with the addition of unsightly satellite dishes.

However, one tradition remains firm and that is giving alms. Up at dawn one morning in Luang Probang, in the neighboring country of Laos, a group of us gathered our sticky rice baskets and waited for the monks to proceed. The longest practicing monk is first in his monastery, not the eldest, and at the bottom of this hierarchy is the novice. Silently they approach in single file, their alms buckets slung across their shoulders. There are no words, only the sound of the lid as it slides off the bucket, as they go one by one, making room for a pinch of rice. The long road lined with devoted alms givers, fills their buckets. They do not grasp, they do not beg. The act of kindness and the opportunity to offer a gesture of generosity fills my own soul as the saffron procession fades into the distance.

In an ever-changing world, finding what still remains to be true is getting more difficult. Going straight to the market is the best place to start. A nation’s identity often lies in the gut of its people. Climate and location dictates what will grow in their soil, and the people choose what to harvest, cook, and eat.

Protecting a culture from losing its traditions is the very solution to a sustainable future, for them–and for us. Sticking with our true nature, one of kindness and generosity, and living with what comes naturally, will keep us in the flow of nature. Respecting simple ways and values will give us tools for living in a modern world and strength to face the changes.

Read more of our Travel Journals by Clicking here.

About Peggy Markel

Peggy Markel is the Owner and Operator of Peggy Markel’s Culinary Adventures. In 1993, she started The Ligurian School of Poetic Cooking (1993–2000), with Angelo Cabani, master chef and proprietor of Locanda Miranda in Tellaro, a small village on the Italian Riviera. For the past 17 years Peggy has traversed the Mediterranean and North Africa, from Elban fishing villages and Moroccan markets to the homes of Tuscan artisans and chefs, furthering her own exploration of culture and cuisine. “For me, a connection to real food is a connection to life.” Peggy’s journeys help people explore the cuisines of Tuscany, Sicily, Morocco, Almafi, and India.

words and photos by Melissa Muller Daka

In the fertile, tree-lined hills that surround Zemer, an Arab village in Israel, an aging Palestinian matriarch, Fataheyya Qaedan, has foraged for wild herbs with her female relatives since her youth. Among the edible delicacies that grow in the Levant, one aromatic shrub, called “za’atar” in Arabic, occupies a special place in her heart. But every time this grandmother treks up the hills to collect this coveted herb, she is breaking Israeli law, as she was unpleasantly reminded recently when bundles of za’atar were seized from her car by the police. She was fined 500 shekels, nearly $135.

Za’atar is a shrubby plant of the Labiate family, with soft, fuzzy leaves that have a pungent, earthy flavor; it is described interchangeably as a type of wild oregano, thyme or marjoram.  It is also the name of a spice mixture made from its dry leaves mixed with a variable mixture of salt, sumac and toasted sesame seeds. Throughout the Arab Levant and in some areas of North Africa, it is renowned for its distinctive taste and, according to folklore, is a strong memory booster.

A Palestinian woman in Israel gathers za’atar from her orchard

In Israel and the West Bank, za’atar also has a sociopolitical resonance far beyond culinary and nutritive realms. It has been a protected plant since 1977, when Israeli legislation made it illegal to pick it in the wild. Environmentalists claim that overharvesting has nearly denuded Israel of wild za’atar, and offenders risk fines of up to $4,000 or six months imprisonment for picking commercial quantities.

In the U.S., the popularity of za’atar is on the rise, and the spice is being revered for its distinctive taste. Little by little, za’atar is going mainstream. But in Middle Eastern homes, za’atar has a political significance that doesn’t cross borders.

Prior to the ban, za’atar already played an important symbolic role in Palestinian identity. Za’atar has been celebrated in the poems of the late Palestinian national poet Mahmoud Darwish and has been equated to “a symbol of the lost Palestinian homeland,” according to Omar Khalifah, a Palestinian-Jordanian Ph.D. candidate in Middle Eastern Studies at Columbia University.

Palestinians still forage for the herb in the wild because it remains an important symbolic role in their identity, said anthropologist Nasser Farraj, director of Palestinian Fair Trade, a company based in the West Bank that exports za’atar spice mixture. Farraj says the ban is a form of discrimination against Palestinians that has nothing to do with protecting the plant.  “It is a political issue, definitely not an environmental one,” he says. The ban is a “land control and land access issue,” that has transformed the traditional foraging and consuming the iconic herb into an act of resistance against Israeli authority.

Since the prohibition was imposed, the za’atar spice mixture has found its way into the Israeli marketplace, where it is sold to a Jewish clientele under the name “holy hyssop,” which appears repeatedly in the Hebrew Bible, most importantly in Exodus and the Psalms. Za’atar is now an integral part of Israel’s own culinary culture and is used by Israeli chefs and matriarchs alike.

Spice mixture “dukkah” with Za’tar, toasted sesame seeds, & sea salt.

Israeli native Snir Eng-Sela, chef-de-cuisine of Commerce Restaurant in New York City, uses fresh za’atar in everything from ceviche to marinades for lamb and fish to salads with parsley, lemon and pomegranate. He considers za’atar an “integral part” of the region’s food culture “in both Israeli and Arabic cuisines.”

Among Palestinians, though, little is taken at face value and even the consumption of food can be politicized. Farraj contends that occupation can take place even  “through our symbols,” and can be considered part of a “semiotic war” against Palestinians.

Elsewhere in the world, the political or cultural significance of za’atar simply doesn’t translate, even as it gains popularity among celebrity chefs and on the Food Network.  Andrew F. Smith, author of the books “Eating History” and “The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America,” notes that while every food item is entwined with culture, ethnic foods transported to a new environment tend to lose their original symbolism. He points to turkey, which in the U.S. has long been associated with our forefathers and national identity. Everywhere else in the world, it is “just another kind of meat to use for cooking,” he said.

While celebrity chefs across the nation from Emeril Lagasse to Jean-Georges Vongerichten now incorporate za’atar into their dishes, Smith points out that chefs are  usually “not interested in culture and politics,” they merely want to discover “new and unique” ingredients.

And za’atar fits that bill as a hitherto little-known Middle Eastern spice. Food trends in the U.S. result from a “culture of experimentation” and a “hunger among foodies” for “innovation and authenticity,” says Louise Kramer, communications director of the National Association for the Specialty Food Trade, the non-profit that runs the biannual “Fancy Food” trade shows. Za’atar, she posits, has all those ingredients.

Palestinian Bread Loaves topped with Za’atar and olive oil

But with za’atar, even its authenticity can be subjective. In Los Alamitos, Calif., Alicja Lombard runs a spice business called Awaken Savor. She produced her own mixtures after interviewing “what seems like hundreds” of Levantine matriarchs, but quickly discovered that “every grandmother has their own secret recipe, which they claim is the only real way to make the mixture.” As a result, she has five mixes: Syrian, Israeli, Jordanian, Turkish, North African and Lebanese, each tweaked a bit differently.

But no matter the recipe, Lombard learned that the dry spice is consumed daily in most homes of these regions and usually in the same way: It is served at breakfast in a small sharing dish, alongside some olive oil, with warm bread; it is also mixed directly with olive oil and rubbed onto small rounds of dough, then baked in wood burning ovens, resulting in a savory bread called manakeesh. Fresh za’atar leaves also are used as a stuffing for flat bread and also in salads.

Soufiane Lailani, a New York-based producer and importer of Moroccan food products, is in the beginning stages of bringing za’atar to the U.S. and expects that his firm, Alili Morocco, will carry the spice later this year. He is confident that za’atar is a “winner” not just because of its unforgettable taste, but because of the buzz over this new Middle Eastern spice, even on the Food Network. Within five years, he predicts, za’atar will “without a doubt” be a staple in “supermarket spice shelves around the country.”

For more on how spices have driven major events in history, check out The Spice Route, A History by John Keay by clicking here.

About Melissa

Melissa Muller Daka is a professional cook, writer and gastronomist who specializes in the diverse cuisines of the Mediterranean region. She holds a B.A. in Middle Eastern Languages and Cultures from Columbia University and a degree in Culinary Arts and International Breadmaking from the French Culinary Institute. At the age of 23, Melissa designed and developed “Osteria del Gallo Nero,” a Tuscan country-style restaurant in Greenwich Village, which she successfully owned & operated for the duration of the restaurant’s lease. Melissa and her husband, a CPA and fellow food lover, currently operate a private chef/catering business and are anticipating the opening of their new restaurant in Chelsea, New York City in the fall of 2010. In addition, Melissa is completing a Master’s degree at Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism, where she is focusing on the craft of writing about food and its relation to culture. To learn more about Melissa visit her website by clicking here.