Spice Grrl

Although I more frequently eschew organised group activities in favour of low rent Garbo posturing, there was no way I was going to miss out on a spice tour of Zanzibar. Having previously had no idea where most spices come from, I am now a walking repository of superficial knowledge on the cultivation of kitchen spices. On encountering clove trees and such like for the first time, I got over-excited and took it upon myself to taste all these spices in their fresh, unripe, unprocessed and unwashed state. I am pleased to announce that I am suffering no ill effects from such foolhardy spontaneity. Following is an extremely abridged field report.

Cinnamon
I had inferred that the term cinnamon bark wasn’t a figurative one; Michael Ondaatje’s beautiful poem, ‘The Cinnamon Peeler’ had prodded this inference along and added to my arsenal of cinnamon related fact that the bark was procured by means of peeling. This unprepossessing tree is a cinnamon tree. Peel away some bark, and voilà: cinnamon. The bark just regenerates on each peeling. Presumably a skilled peeler can coax fragrant quills from the trees with facility.

Cardamom
Cardamom pods and seeds and powders aren’t just vital spices, they are orchid by-products! Apparently too they are a cure for seasickness. My voyage to Zanzibar from Dar Es Salaam, aboard the dubiously named Flying Horse, was calm enough but I am pocketing a handful of pods for the return trip.

Vanilla
Vanilla pods, vanilla beans, vanilla, vanilla, vanilla, another noble orchidaceous by-product. The pods in the photo are not yet fully grown, ripe only with possibility. The half dried beans for sale elsewhere fairly oozed a sticky mass of seeds and a tremendous thick perfume like no version of vanilla I’ve previously encountered. My hands and head plump with vanilla, I swooned and entertained visions of vanilla quinces and crème anglaise and a bottle of Absolut infested with vanilla beans and all sorts of custard until pragmatism, of course, intervened and I realised the pointlessness of trailing a stash of vanilla pods across the continent with me. It’s not like I’m travelling with a whisk or anything. I note that I did not dally long with the notion of vanilla essence.

Clove
Where do cloves come from? Clove trees! The clove tree! Thrilled am I to discover that such a species exists.
Unripe cloves look just like ripe, undried cloves and taste not dissimilar either.

Nutmeg
Without nutmeg, where would spinach, and, for that matter, scrambled eggs, be?

Once upon a time the Anarchist’s Cookbook instructed the hopeful to smoke nutmeg for fun. This was possibly irresponsible information but no more so than the bomb-making instructions. My Zanzibar sources tell me that high-octane nutmeg tea is effective an aphrodisiac when served to women and as a sedative when served to men. So there you go.

Good old multipurpose nutmeg is the pip of a fruit which looks like a pale plum and hangs abundantly from enormous trees like these. The pips only take five days to dry! If my sample dries as it should, I am sure it will bring me great luck to carry a nutmeg with me, along with my first of spring chestnut charm, collected in Milan.

I am chuffed almost beyond measure to have peered at these spices in situ. Without vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom, and cloves, my quality of life would be markedly lower.