SC - In case you don;t have web access....

[micaylah]

This is the article that is found at the NY Times site. I haven't seen
this posted yet in its entirety so hopefully I'm not duplicating
something already posted.

YIS
Micaylah

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Those that live by the sword frequently get shot by those that don't.
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What Peppercorns Only Dream of Being
By AMANDA HESSER

FIRST saw them in a spice shop in London. Not long after, they were
spotted among the ingredients on a bottle of Van Gogh gin. Their name
alone, grains of paradise, sparkled. Then a friend gave me a small
bagful as a gift from his travels.

For the first time, I had my hands on an ingredient before it was,
like lemon grass or chipotle, strewn across every menu. It was as
refreshing as it was disconcerting: I had no idea what to do with the
tiny round grains, brown as nutmeg. They looked as promising as an
oyster in the shell. Paradise could not have seemed farther away. 

I put a few between my teeth and crunched. They cracked like
coriander, releasing a billowing aroma, and then a slowly intensifying
heat, like pepper. The taste changed by the second. The heat lingered.
But the spice was pleasantly tempered, ripe with flavors reminiscent
of jasmine, hazelnut, butter and citrus, and with the kind of oiliness
you get from nuts. They were entirely different from black
peppercorns. And in my mind, incomparably better. 

Black pepper is something that cooks, myself included, use mindlessly.
It is added to dishes as sugar is stirred into coffee or ice is added
to a glass. Taste is not so much the point as the burn. 

Grains of paradise are dense fragrance underlined with heat. And that
brings food to life in a way that black pepper never does. 

I soon realized there is probably no recipe in which grains of
paradise can't be substituted for black peppercorns. Like peppercorns,
they can be crushed in a mortar and pestle or ground in a pepper mill.
But with a different effect: spread as a crust on tuna, they gave the
fish a round, faintly peppery edge, rather than blunt heat. 

The more I came to know them, and the more I was seduced by their
lingering, comforting aroma, the more astonished I was that they had
not already caught on in America, where heat is often irresistible.
Spice dealers like World Spice Merchants in Seattle, Vanns Spices in
Baltimore and Adriana's Caravan in Manhattan have begun carrying
grains of paradise in the last few years. The spice is not expensive,
only about $3 to $5 an ounce, against about $1.50 for black
peppercorns. 

I began poking around, trying to piece together what I could about
grains of paradise. Food encyclopedias helped little. Grains of
paradise remain in the realm of African scholars and spice purveyors. 

For ages, the spice has been relished for its heat in both religious
rituals and cooking in West Africa, where it originated.

The heat is what has kept grains of paradise alive in people's minds.
The spice grows wild in countries like Nigeria, Ghana, Guinea and
Liberia. 

The plant, Aframomum melegueta, is a short shrub that produces pods
the size of figs, each containing 60 to 100 seeds, or grains. Grains
of paradise are also called guinea pepper, atare, alligator pepper and
melegueta pepper (not to be confused with pimenta malagueta, a
Brazilian chili of the same name, usually preserved in oil). But the
spice is not a relative of the Piper nigrum family, the source of
black and white peppercorns. Even experts disagree, though it is most
often linked to the cardamom family. 

Grains of paradise are among many hot spices, like long pepper and
cubeb, from West Africa, where spices are ground and combined in
complex blends. Grains of paradise are mixed with coriander, cinnamon,
dried chilies and cloves as a condiment for grilled lamb, chicken,
fish, pumpkin and okra, or added to soups, stews and pickling
mixtures. They also turns up in raz al hanout, the spice mixture of
Morocco. 

In the Middle Ages, before trade routes from Europe to the East were
established, grains of paradise were sought as a substitute for black
peppercorns, an expensive import from the East. West Africa was much
closer to Europe and was also important for the trades in gold dust,
ivory and slaves. Europeans began importing grains of paradise, using
the spice to season foods. It also found its way into the spiced beers
of Belgium. (It can still be found in some beers, like ales of
Ommegang, a New York State brewery, and Blanche de Bruges from
Belgium. As with Van Gogh gin, it becomes a discreetly layered
aromatic, indiscernible as grains of paradise.) 

Trade in the grains grew so much that the coastline just north of the
Ivory Coast became known as the Grain Coast. Trade prospered until
Europeans found their way around the Cape of Good Hope, making the
East and all of its spices, including black peppercorns, much more
accessible. Black peppercorns, which are easier to cultivate, came
down in price, and the market for grains of paradise in Europe
evaporated. 

______________________ 

Grains of paradise remain more vital perhaps in religious ritual.
Yvette Burgess-Polcyn, a Manhattan priest who practices the Nigerian
religion of the Yoruba people, said that the spice is used as an
offering to the spirits. When a follower is coming for a spiritual
consultation, she will arrange on a saucer nine pieces of fresh
coconut the size of a pea, each dabbed with palm oil and a grain of
paradise, and she will place it on an altar. Sometimes the grains are
added to food prepared as an offering to a deity. They are also used
ritually in the religion of the Ibo people.

"We're very careful with guinea peppers not to drop them, because
anyone stepping on them could generate fights," Ms. Burgess-Polcyn
said. 

Jessica B. Harris, a culinary historian in Brooklyn, said grains of
paradise are also a paradigm of abundance. With so many seeds in the
pod, she said, "If you drop it, if you lose it, you're cutting your
abundance." 

And the heat has great power metaphorically, said Robert
Farris-Thomson, a professor of African-Atlantic art at Yale
University. "If you want to bless someone, you chew on this hot
pepper, and it is believed that the heat of the pepper on the tongue
will go into your words and spiritually underline them," he said. 

The metaphor of heat extends to food as well, Mr. Farris-Thomson said.
In the belief of the Kongo people, you can defend yourself from
envious people by eating foods cooked with grains of paradise or other
peppers. 

The symbolism of heat stayed with African people in the New World, but
the sources of heat changed, to chilies and peppercorns. Spices like
grains of paradise stayed behind. 

"Once in America, we were forced to come up with new variations on old
themes," said Diane Spivey, author of "The Peppers, Cracklings and
Knots of Wool Cookbook: The Global Migration of African Cuisine"
(State University of New York, 1999). African-Americans, she said,
used what was available here and, drawing on what they knew, created
new dishes. 

It is difficult to find African restaurants that use grains of
paradise. Mama Zee in Staten Island is one. Oyebolanle Grant, the
chef, who is from Nigeria, uses the grains in a dish called suya,
mixed with peanut butter, dried red pepper, salt and a bouillon cube,
then spread on beef, sliced as thin as bacon. The beef is strung on
skewers, then grilled and served with more of the rub. 

She also adds grains of paradise to a custard with ginger, a
traditional Nigerian breakfast dish, which takes four days to make. 

Both dishes sounded appealing but were not exactly what I had in mind
when I first tasted the spice. I wanted to use it more as Europeans
had, in place of black peppercorns. 

I started off pan-roasting pieces of cod. When they came out of the
oven, crisp on the edges and opaque in the center, I squeezed on a few
drops of lemon juice, sprinkled on a little olive oil and then let
flecks of grains of paradise, crushed in a mortar and pestle, speckle
the fish. Cod, which is buttery and sweet, was a perfect fit for the
oily fragrance of the grains, and they did not seem unnecessarily
aggressive, as ordinary pepper can. 

With a baby chicken, I rubbed the skin with a mixture of grains of
paradise, crushed coriander and lemon zest -- all of which are fruity
and floral. The mixture, which lightly freckled the skin, whispered
its flavor just enough for the mild flesh. 

The roundness in flavor of grains of paradise is reminiscent of sweet
spices like nutmeg, coriander and cinnamon. It struck me that it would
be terrific with sautéed chicken livers, showered with grains ground
in a pepper mill as they finish cooking in the pan. 

I pressed some grains into a fresh pink piece of tuna, then seared it
in a shallow iron pan. I let the tuna cool to not quite room
temperature, then laid it on salad greens with green beans and
hard-cooked eggs, a loose interpretation of salade Niçoise. The
spice's fragrance had not diminished but had infused the fish, adding
heat without bite. 

I rolled a small crottin of fresh goat cheese in the crushed grains,
flecked it with thyme and drizzled it with a stream of golden olive
oil. What I needed was a good loaf of bread and plans for a brunch. 

As I was cooking, I realized that using black pepper had become a
reflex. I had to be more thoughtful with grains of paradise; their
gentle flavors could be easily overpowered. 

I later learned that Jean-Georges Vongerichten is one of the very,
very few chefs who have begun experimenting with the spice. He crusts
halibut with the crushed grains, adds them to mignonette sauce for
oysters and stirs them into tomato juice with balsamic vinegar and
lime juice to make a startlingly peppy bloody Mary. 

John Ash, the culinary director for Fetzer Vineyards, slips the grains
into tomato water and herbal syrups and sometimes infuses crème
anglaise with them. 

I tried his recipe for rosemary syrup with grains of paradise, chopped
ginger, white wine and balsamic vinegar. As it simmered on the stove,
it darkened like wet leather. I strained it and spooned it over slices
of ripe mango. I was skeptical, and I worried about the mango, which I
had patiently ripened. I have had syrups of ginger and black pepper
before, many of which are like a shot of cheap whiskey coursing down
your throat. This was different. It was like a decadent, aged port and
so thin that it barely wetted the fruit. 

I have a new black pepper in my kitchen and I'm not looking back. 



BLOODY PARADISE 
Adapted from Jean-Georges Vongerichten

Time: 5 minutes 

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste 
1/2 teaspoon coarsely ground grains of paradise, more for garnish 
1 cup tomato juice 
2 tablespoons lime juice 
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar 
1 1/2 ounces citron vodka 
2 basil leaves, fried in oil and sprinkled with salt, for garnish. 

In a shaker, mix together salt, grains of paradise, tomato juice, lime
juice, vinegar and vodka. Shake well. Pour over a glass of ice, and
grind more grains of paradise over the glass. Garnish with basil
leaves. 
Yield: 1 drink.


PAN-ROASTED COD SEASONED WITH GRAINS OF PARADISE 

Time: 5 minutes 

3/4 pound cod fillet, cut into 2 pieces 
Sea salt 
1 tablespoon peanut oil 
Extra virgin olive oil, for sprinkling 
1/4 teaspoon grains of paradise, coarsely ground in a mortar and
pestle 

1 lemon, halved, for sprinkling (optional). 

1. Heat oven to 425 degrees. Place a medium iron skillet over medium
high heat. Season cod on both sides with salt. When skillet is hot,
add peanut oil, then cod. Saute until crisped and brown. Then turn,
saute for one minute, and transfer to oven to finish cooking, about 2
minutes longer, depending on thickness of fish. 

2. Remove from oven, and place on serving plates. Drizzle with olive
oil, and sprinkle grains of paradise on top. Squeeze a little lemon
juice over fish, if desired. 

Yield: 2 servings.