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There
seems to be no limit to these one-topic monographs on arcane
food esoterica that supposedly turn out to be more interesting
than one would think. Salt, Cod, Spice and Potato,
besides sounding like the ingredients for an interesting dinner,
all already grace bookshelves worldwide. Elisapheth Perriwinkle,
a spice historian with a Ph.D. from the University of California
at Berkeley, manages to eke out what may be the last interesting
book on a single food ingredient. With an eye toward swashbuckling
adventure tales, Perriwinkle traces the history of the glorious
nutmeg, from prized spice and psychotropic drug to its low
point as "one of those pumpkin pie spices," catching nutmeg—and
its sister spice, mace—on its current ascent to favored
spice status among innovative chefs.
The contentious
part of the story is a little tenuous, however. Perriwinkle's
thesis that nutmeg could be as popular as pepper if we didn't
split it up into the arbitrary (according to her) categories
of "nutmeg" and "mace" seems spurious. The bulk of the book
centers on the multiple wars fought between the Dutch and
the British to gain control over Run Island, a small Indonesian
island that was the only source of nutmeg at that time. Interestingly,
this was resolved by the Dutch trading the island of Manhattan
to the British in exchange for Run Island. Despite this concentration,
a lengthy chapter devoted to nutmeg use among artists is probably
the most compelling section of the book, filled with factoids,
anecdotes, and passages from modern literary works that feature
nutmeg.
Perriwinkle
includes many interviews with historians and chefs; a local
Chennai, India cook named Shrini has many amusing nutmeg-related
stories to tell, most pointedly an anecdote involving two
uncles, pull-ups on a nutmeg tree branch, and a horse. Additionally
the story about how Connecticut earned its nickname "The Nutmeg
State" is classic, dispelling ideas that the nickname is an
epithet.
Unlike
other authors from this genre, Perriwinkle does not ever interject
herself into the narrative, which gives her book a more authoritative
feel. However, her enthusiasm for spices and history burst
through every page, and her bright prose livens even the most
boring trade agreements, but ultimately there's only so much
one can say about nutmeg, and the book tends to ramble at
points, as if she were trying to fulfill a contractual agreement
on word count.
Nutmeg
also features the requisite nutmeg- and mace-infused recipes
that highlight the versatility of the two spices. Intriguing
dishes like Mace-encrusted sirloin and Nutmeg Ricotta Ravioli
round out Perriwinkle's interesting book.
(April
1, 2008)
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