My spice cabinet, filled to the brim with sweet and savory magic, you are a wonder.
The grinder and you have taught me to make my own masalas–chai, garam, Arab and Chinese five-spice. You open doors of the possible and make my cooking soar to summits I never knew possible.
You give me confidence to measure by the spoonful. Not the wimpy sprinkling of my past cooking life, the bland life I had before I came to know you.
Occasionally one of your mismatched recycled jars escapes when nudged too far. If it’s plastic it will bounce delighted across the floor; if glass, it goes out with gusto and flair–filling the kitchen with aromatic joy for a day or two.
Thank you, spice cabinet, for filling my world with color, aroma, flavor, and beauty.
Wow, be sure to read this beautiful Ode to Shea Butter by Angel Nafis.
I am SO with the spirit of this one–I got obsessive about spices during the lock down. I discovered za’atar: recommended!!
Yes, I love za’atar too! I discovered it here from my Jordanian friends. Where had it been all my life? Thank you for visiting!
I am not much a cook , but this poem has got me quite interested . You profoundly convey how much you love cooking in this poem. Thanks for sharing that with us.