As I grudgingly packed away my beloved spices last night, I pondered if they would be happy in their new home. When would they next see the light of day? Or more apropos, the peach marbled flesh of a salmon filet? Would they miss me, as I would them?
Each bottle I wrapped brought back a memory of times past. The fennel and herbs de provence transported me back to the markets in the South of France, where I found myself ogling the abundance of spices and struggling to pick just a few. The za’atar took me to Tel Aviv where I was tearing apart pita za’atar from Abu Lafia whilst strolling along the ancient streets of Jaffo. The saffron brought me to Barcelona where I feasted on deep yellow saffron infused tapas and Paellas. My collection of spices makes me feel somewhat akin to Angelina Jolie, they’re my exotic babies that I have collected during my travels around the world.
I am trying to picture where my babies will live in our new home. They are used to having the run of the place, I am sure this time will be no different.