Lior Lev Sercarz - The Spice Companion: A Guide to the World of Spices

INTRODUCTION

I was born and raised on Kibbutz Dan in northern Israel. Although it was a great place to grow up as a child, food was the least exciting thing about it. The generation of Jews who escaped Europe before the war, or came after, built this country on the idea that food was purely a means of survival. Unfortunately, my kibbutz was also founded by these same eastern Europeans, who left behind many of the culinary traditions of their native homes; all I can remember from my early days is boiled, flavorless dishes too often oversweetened or way too vinegary.

Luckily, we took trips to Kiryat Shmona, the nearest town, and Tel Aviv, where street food offered a variety of new flavors and ingredients. Keep in mind that until the early 90s, the culinary scene in Israel, generally speaking, was as interesting as hummus in a can! The best meals were at home, and if you were lucky enough, you had a Moroccan or Persian friend who would invite you over for dinner.

There were also interesting culinary influences from our neighbors just over the Lebanese border, only a half mile away. We shopped and ate in areas that are now part of Palestine, and there were a few Druze villages just twenty minutes north where we could enjoy freshly made falafel, grilled meats, and sweets, as well as a delicious Arabic coffee spiced with cardamom. These cultures greatly impacted our meals at home, bringing new ingredients and dishes into our limited repertoire. Today, Israel has close to seventy different ethnic groups and, in turn, access to each of their uniquely authentic cuisines. We are finally seeing a culinary revolution that is as exciting as anywhere else on the planet. Israeli cuisine has certainly come a long way.

Growing up in the Galilee did have its advantages: we were surrounded by nature. The Dan River, which flows into the Jordan, brought schools of rainbow trout, which wed catch, stuff to the gills with wild herbs, and cook whole, simply, on the grill. Within reach were sprawling apple orchards, cornfields, and citrus groves. As kids we would venture out and fill up on everything we could pick ourselves, especially since we knew what was waiting for us back at the communal dining room for dinner.

Still, not every dish in the kibbutz was worth avoiding. One highlight from those days was the flatbreads my friends and I would bake in makeshift dirt ovens and eat with sour labneh cheese and fragrant zaatar, a mix of sesame, sumac, thyme, and other herbs. Picking fresh thyme, oregano, or rosemary was a matter of going out into the garden or into the nearby fields where they grew wild. (To this day, I have a hard time paying for herbs packed in plastic clamshells at the supermarket.)

After we left the kibbutz, I started cooking because my mother worked late and my sisters and I needed to eat. It was that simple. She would leave ingredients and directions out on the counter, and we were on our own. Often the recipes would hail from one of my familys different culturesmy mothers father was Tunisian and his wife was Transylvanian.