It should come as no surprise that food descriptions in books thrill me. From unabashedly food-focused Peter Mayle passages to small mentions in Ernest Hemingway, I find sensory description of a meal really helps set the scene. I can smell the setting, I can taste it. I can feel the hot oil splutter off a hot pan, or the cool, melting softness of a piece of fresh fish, right out of the ocean. It’s like reading a book in 4D; an extra sensory element to bring you into the story.

A really good book can have nothing to do with food but, if I’m entranced enough by the narrative, can make me crave certain things. If imagining isn’t enough, I want to taste the setting.

I mentioned this before when I wrote about my Jerk Chicken Tacos with Peach-Mango Salsa after reading Ann Vanderhoof’s An Embarassment of Mangoes. Read a story all about cooking in the Caribbean and, yeah, you’re going to want to whip out the allspice and tropical fruit. A variety of fresh seafood, pour rum on just about everything, add habanero peppers.

Not surprisingly, I experienced the same thing while reading Marcus Samuelsson’s autobiography, Yes, Chef. (yep, I am obviously also one of those people who reads chefs autobiographies- scan to the bottom of the page for a list of my favourites!)

Samuelsson’s story begins in Ethiopia. When Samuelsson was three years old, a tuberculosis epidemic hit the country. His birth mother, struggling with the disease herself, made the trek for treatment to a nearby hospital- miles away- taking Samuelsson and his sister along with her. By the time they arrived at the hospital, his mother has succumbed to the infection but in her efforts, had saved her two children. Shortly thereafter, both children were adopted by Ann Marie and Lennart Samuelsson and moved to Sweden.

Ethiopia + Sweden. Can you imagine two more different countries? The dichotomy has blessed Samuelsson with a unique flair for merging traditional flavours and techniques.

Gravadlax. Dill. Lemon.

Lentils. Berebere. Lemon.

Wait a tic- lemon! See, we aren’t so different after all. Samuelsson’s bold exploration (and occasional merging) of the two is admirable and creates for some truly unique recipes.

So, after reading Yes, Chef I had two things on the top of my list to make: homemade gravlax and doro wat.

The wat blew me away with it’s unique flavour. I love gravlax, I am an absolute nut for a loxy bagel or a good smorgasbord- those are some of my favourite flavours familiar to me, but wat! My god, what was this unique something-something!

A lot of (I might even dare to say most) Ethiopian cuisine uses their unique spice mixture Berbere. Combining spices flavours I was familiar with in totally fresh ways was enough for me to start putting it on, well… everything. Chicken- berbere! Fish- berbere! Roasted veggies- berbere! Popcorn- berbere! (I could go on for a long time, but you get the point- put it on EVERYYYYYTHINGGG)

Traditionally, berbere has quite a kick to it and, while I personally love rip-your-lips-off spicy food, I appreciate that not everyone does. While this berbere mix does call for chilis, I have toned the heat down for your average North American palette- big flavour with just a hum of heat.

The spice recipe below makes a lot, but it also keeps well if kept in a well-sealed container in your pantry so never fear, you will have ample, ample use for all that berbere.

Chickpeas were an obvious choice for me. Due to my penchant for unreasonable hanger (hunger+anger), I keep a lot of snacks at my desk but, thanks to my ever slowing metabolism, I can’t snack on chips or cookies anymore, since that would involve having to buy an entirely new wardrobe to house my ever-expanding butt.

Chickpeas are high in fiber, so they fill you up as a satisfying snack, but have a low glycemic index, meaning you don’t experience a crash if you snack too much. Everyone wins.

I always use dried chickpeas when roasting them, since using canned- no matter how much I pat them dry before baking them- has always resulted in a chewy or mushy end-product. Always use dried, soak overnight (and then don’t cook any further), and pat them dry very well before tossing in a touch of oil and spice. As an added bonus, dried chickpeas are much cheaper than canned. Man, this recipe just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?

I could list of all the reasons to try them… you know what, yeah, I love a good list, let’s go for it.

easily transportable snack food

amazing on salads- texture and flavour rockets!

vegan, gluten-free, low fat, low glycemic index, high fiber…

stupid tasty and satisfyingly crunchy- think chic Cornnuts

CHEAP AND EASY (so cheap, so easy…)

And now, as promised, for those of you interested in foodie summer reading:



