Written July 26, 2025
Hello Dear Readers,
In our kitchen, spices often live in two categories: the everyday workhorses, and the “mystery jars” that sit in the back, aging like fine wine but without the payoff. My wife, however, refuses to let a spice sulk in a corner. If we don’t have it, she simply plays culinary matchmaker with something else.
Take sumac, for example. Traditionally used in Middle Eastern dishes, it had long been absent from our shelves. My wife’s stand-in? Lemon zest with a dash of pepper — a clever impersonation that worked surprisingly well. For months, she worked this little trick into our cooking.
But then the recipes started stacking up. We were making dishes that actually called for sumac — and not just once in a blue moon. “It’s not like saffron,” she said one day, “you can get it without taking out a small loan.” Still, she wouldn’t commit unless the spice could earn its keep. After a respectable number of appearances on our dinner table, she finally brought home the real thing.
Sumac, as it turns out, is a striking spice — a deep, muted red, like paprika’s sophisticated cousin. My wife admired it instantly. “It’s beautiful,” she said, “and sour.” I had to taste it right then. Tart, citrusy, slightly spicy — like lemon zest that had been training for the Olympics.
Today, I finally put it to work. Lamb meatloaf with sautéed vegetables in cream sauce — not exactly a traditional sumac showcase, but I was curious. I dusted the crimson powder over the dish and took a bite. Perfection. The tangy sharpness sliced right through the richness of the cream like a sword through butter, bringing everything into balance.
It was the lemon zest experience I’d always wanted — all the brightness, none of the bitterness you get when you accidentally shave too close to the pith. From now on, any dish that gets a kiss of lemon zest might just meet its bolder, redder cousin too.
For the curious: sumac comes from dried, ground berries of the Rhus genus, relatives of the cashew and mango tree. It has nothing to do with poison sumac — that’s a completely different plant family, and one you do not want in your spice rack. The edible variety thrives in subtropical and temperate climates and can grow almost anywhere outside of Antarctica and South America.
It’s a darling of Middle Eastern cuisine, but as my wife and I discovered, its talents go far beyond that. Bright, tangy, and just a little spicy — I suspect this is the beginning of a long, flavorful friendship.