I have lived in Saudi Arabia for 15 years. During this time,
I haven’t seen them generally grow any perennial spices, though they do
cultivate a few herbs for their culinary needs and home remedies. However, they
do know and have all the condiments and spices they need in their traditional
markets, let alone in modern-day department stores and shopping centers
downtown, where they have all the fruits and vegetables from around the world.
I have often spent time counting the variety and number of items offered at
such spice stores. They just don’t sell the items for their Arabian coffee or
‘Qahva’ as they call it. They have everything, and many of them, interestingly,
have their origin in India, but I haven’t seen them in India. I must keep my
eyes open wide enough to see all that is there at home first. William Cowper
knew that variety is the very spice of life. What is then the variety of
spices?
I can name a good number of them, but not all. If you would
like to challenge yourselves, please zoom in and list them. If you get 90 out
of 100, you are an expert. It includes many of the ones we used to grow at home
in India when I was growing up. To my surprise, as we went shopping for a
party, the shopkeeper I know showed me a sort of dried moss with feathery,
exfoliated strips of bark from some plants. It is a sort of dried moss, and it
comes from India. My mum has no idea of its culinary use; my grandmother
probably didn't even care for it. But it adds flavor and fragrance to Kabsa. We
tried it and loved what it added to the food we made with it. Much later, I realized
that it is a lichen, often found on tree trunks, especially on areca nut and
jack trees, where I come from. A modern art piece featuring symbiotic artwork
with algae, moss, or cyanobacteria, with mysterious brushstrokes. Ms Mangala, a
senior teacher I recently became acquainted with, told me that the absence of
lichen is a key indicator of air pollution in the locality.
In such shops, seasoned masterminds know each of their long-term customers' tastes and preferences. They prepare the ready-mix powder for any dish on demand, measure, add more or less of their chosen ingredients, sift and grind, and then pack it airtight, with special instructions for use and storage, all the while exchanging news from their villages and towns. Customization is not a new marketing gimmick in those traditional markets. It is a lifelong bond, and they are a family.
Saudis may be using it to add spice to their lives in the desert, where they live by rearing sheep and camels in otherwise hostile climatic conditions, with the weather becoming extreme for most of the year. Dried ginger, sesame seeds, cinnamon, coffee husks, turmeric, cardamom, dried limes, mahlab, mastic, nutmeg, rosewater, shaybah, blackseed, black pepper, dried rose petals, dried onion, saffron, flake seeds, sumac, tamarind, zatar, cloves, cumin, mint and nigella seed make up that long list. You may buy most of them either ground or unground.
They know the friends and foes of their catch, so they do not even carry them home all in the same package. The same rule applies in use, too. Certain combinations are not supposed to go down together through the throat. Don't go and quiz them on amensalism, incompatible food (virudha ahaara), or food taboos, though. As the popular saying goes, the spices are the poetry of the kitchen, and the same spices help us decode the history of our civilization. The Nutmeg’s Curse by Amitav Ghosh is just one case in point to explore in this regard.
