The Spice of Life

I’m calling hogwash on “variety”. Variety isn’t a spice. For those in the cheap seats, my well-worn copy of the Food Lover’s Companion clearly lays out that spices are:

Pungent or aromatic seasonings obtained from the bark, buds, fruit, roots, seed or stems of various plants and trees (whereas herbs usually come from the leafy part of a plant).

Even my favorite online purveyor of herbs and spices goes by the name of Penzey’s Spices. Herbs along with other things such as Raspberry Enlightenment are simply along for the ride.

Variety can be crippling, especially to novices who may get overwhelmed by the broad palate of flavors at their disposal. And since spices don’t last forever, it is wise to buy what you will use in relatively short order. Do I have to mention I’m terrible about that part? I have a tendency to hoard foodstuffs.

But there is one spice that is clearly the spice of life, and it falls on the spectrum between ajwain (which I keep on hand) and zatar (which I never get despite always wanting it).

Black pepper.

I’ve been saying for years that, “Black pepper is the spice of life” mostly just for kicks. But it’s true. This is one of the most overlooked and underappreciated spices at the disposal of almost every home cook.

However, when I say black pepper, I’m not talking about the stuff that comes out of the shaker at your local diner. I suppose technically that stuff is pepper. But the proof that it’s not is how furiously you have to shake it to give any flavor to underseasoned hash browns.

Freshly ground black peppercorns bear no resemblance to the powder that sits on checkered tablecloths. Nor do the tins of pre-ground black pepper that have taken root in so many spice racks hold a candle to the real deal.

When you are cooking with ingredients of impeccable quality, they don’t need a lot of manipulation in the kitchen to taste great. A dry-aged grass-fed-and-finished steak only calls for some salt and freshly ground black pepper before being thrown onto a blazingly hot pan. The same holds true for something as simple as a perfectly poached just-laid egg.

Black pepper isn’t just for savory things either. I once made a delicious black pepper and vanilla poached pear filled with a sweetened mascarpone. One of my favorite chocolate truffles from L.A. Burdick is filled with lemon and black pepper. Plus black pepper works well in cocktails, especially when added to a ginger-infused simple syrup for a deeper rounder bite.

Without black pepper, chicken stock would be flat, salads would be anemic, and red meat would lack a dimension. Salt and pepper shrimp would just be, well…you get the idea.

There are lots of spices I would miss if they were to vanish from the face of the earth. But there is nothing I would miss as deeply or as often as good black pepper. It that doesn’t make it the spice of life, I don’t know what does.