The Perfect Pantry

Garam masala (Recipe: tandoori-spiced grilled lamb)

Updated from the archives, with new recipe, photos and links.

What happens when a good-for-nothing handsome hunk like Mac finds himself in possession of an empty flat and access to three gorgeous air hostesses, Priti, Sweety and Puja?

I have no idea, but you will, if you settle in with Garam Masala, a three-hour, Bollywood movie extravaganza. Indian movies that combine song and dance, love triangles, drama, comedy, and daredevil thrills are called masala movies, because, like masalas — spice blends — they are a mixture of many things.

Visit one hundred kitchens in India, and you'll find one hundred different versions of garam masala, the spice mixture at the heart of northern Indian and Pakistani cooking.

Juniper berries (Recipe: lamb stew)

Guest post and photos by Marcia in Rhode Island.

Every family has one. A non-conformist.

In the pine family, juniper is the rebel. Unlike its cousin, the slender and erect red cedar, juniper spreads low to the ground, sloppily, in all directions. Another cousin, white pine, can be lumbered, while juniper is almost impossible to uproot. And a third cousin, hemlock, has feathery soft needles; juniper’s are nasty, vicious little things.

Most of the pine cousins have woody cones that send seeds flying into the wind; the fruits start off as a cluster of fleshy scale, and when they dry out, they look like the familiar pine cones.

Juniper holds its cones tightly on the branches; the scales stay fleshy and look like berries, but they’re not. What we call juniper berries are actually soft purplish “pine cones”.

Lavender, and a purple haze (Recipe: pork tenderloin with lavender grilled peaches)

Please welcome Marcia, who with this post joins The Perfect Pantry as guest blogger. She lives up the road from me, in a lovely old house with several vegetable and flower gardens, surrounded by acres of woodland. Professionally, she's been a teacher, children's librarian, naturalist and goat farmer. An avid cook and baker, Marcia will share stories and recipes once a month or so.

Guest post and photos by Marcia in Rhode Island

Lavender is a frivolous yet ever-present staple in my pantry. Occasionally my garden yields a few tablespoons, just enough for lavender madeleines when I’m feeling peckish and reminiscent, but most of the time, I buy buds and flowers embalmed in plastic packets.   

Until today.
   
“Pick your own lavender and distill the color of our garden into your kitchen,” promised the ad that ran in our local paper a couple of weeks ago.

And I’d been waiting. Because I am sure you don’t pick lavender on just any day.

Saffron (Recipe: lamb tagine with prunes and apricots)

In numerology, three can be lucky or unlucky.

Bad luck comes in threes, they say, but the third time's a charm.

For saffron, three is an auspicious number -- the number of stigmas, what we recognize as saffron threads, in each crocus flower.

Only three. Which is why it takes more than 70,000 flowers to yield one pound of saffron. Which is why saffron is the most expensive spice in the world.

Cowboy ketchup (Recipe: Southwestern spicy pulled pork)

I'm not really a cowboy kind of gal.

Neither the films of John Wayne nor the books of Louis L'Amour do much for me. Ask me the difference between a lasso and a lariat, and I'll have to check my dictionary.

So, when I tell you that if -- when -- you visit Oklahoma City, you absolutely, positively, must get yourself to the National Cowboy Museum, you'll know that this is one seriously cool place. The size of a football field, the museum greets hundreds of thousands of visitors each year with galleries specializing in the rodeo, art and sculpture, history, cowboy clothing and equipment, and music. There's even a library of barbed wire styles.

It's a spectacular and comprehensive museum, yet there's one thing missing.

Cowboy ketchup.

In the great tradition of cowboy storytellers, I'd love to spin a yarn about this amazing condiment, how it was invented by accident, when stampeding buffalo kicked over bottles of ketchup, mustard and barbecue sauce, and all happened to land in the same pot of beans cooking slowly over a campfire.

Bay leaves (Recipe: bay leaf crusted pork roast)

If it weren't for Apollo, and his frustrated libido, there would be no bay leaves in The Perfect Pantry.

According to mythology, Cupid, taunted by Apollo for childish behavior, exacted revenge by drawing from his quiver two arrows — a golden one for love, and a leaden one to repel love. He aimed the golden arrow at Apollo, and the other at the nymph Daphne, beautiful daughter of the river god Peneus.

Struck by Cupid's dart, Apollo lusted after Daphne, who, thanks to Cupid's trickery, couldn't stand the sight of any man and so made her father promise never to force her to marry. Apollo's desire drove him to pursue the nymph; he chased her, running faster and faster, threatening to overtake. And just when she was within his grasp, she called on her father: "Help me, Peneus! Open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger."

Immediately, her body became stiff and encased in bark, her hair turned to leaves, her feet to roots. Peneus had kept his word, and changed her into a bay laurel tree. Apollo — distraught, bewitched, and besotted — decreed that the leaves of the bay laurel would remain forever green. He wove leaves into a crown and wore it always; thus, a crown of bay leaves became a symbol of honor. And in honor of Apollo, laurel wreaths were presented to the victors at the first Olympics in 776 B.C., and they are given to marathon winners to this day.

Poor Apollo, but lucky us.