Eating the color wheel

On dyed curcurbits, bitter tastes, and false food narratives

I've been thinking about food and aesthetics recently, and in particular, about what we can learn when we consider our relationship to color and to food. Turmeric came to mind first, and it turns out the deep dive into turmeric and color pulled me through a fascinating history of turmeric as medicine, as well as some surprising lessons we can take from turmeric today.

Turmeric has long been used as a dye for clothes as well as for food, and as a way to add yellow to finished dishes. Julia Fine, who has studied the history of turmeric, gives us a new way to think about how the flavor and color results in “participation in the Empire through food”. She notes that “The coloring of turmeric allowed British eaters who may or may not have ever been to the subcontinent to emulate presumed Indian originals [in this case making ‘mangoes’ by pickling melons].” As a result, “Turmeric…thus became a tool through which British people could participate in and translate the Imperial project to their own homes.”[i]

To put it another way, using turmeric to dye pickled melons allowed people to pretend they were eating something 'exotic' (a mango) that they couldn't buy in the store.

Turmeric is interesting because it connects to the idea of the exotic in a couple ways. In the example above, turmeric allowed melons to be a stand-in for mangoes, and thus as a coloring helps people make substitutes for 'exotic' foods. But turmeric itself also is used as an 'exotic' spice (more on that in a second).

You'll notice I'm putting exotic in quotes here intentionally: The term 'exotic' inherently suggests othering in a specific way. When we say something or someone is 'exotic', the subtext (intentional or not) is that not only are they from a different place than the speaker, but there's also a value judgement in place. 'Exotic' foods (and people) are viewed as objects: Novel, alluring, and intriguing, but ones we make little effort to understand and connect with on a deeper level.

What happens when we stop viewing what is unfamiliar through this lens, and approach with curiosity and an open mind instead? What lessons can we learn about foods that historically have been called 'exotic'?

Maybe we can start down that road by looking at how we use this yellow spice as something 'exotic' today here in the western world. Just like those 18th-19th century English folks with their yellow melons, we have embraced turmeric as a way to make believe in the kitchen.

Today, it's not just about aesthetics, but also about health claims. Turmeric boasts a number of health benefits (anti-inflammatory seems to be the one people focus on most), and while it has been popular in Middle Eastern and South Asian cooking for centuries, we recently have seen an uptick in turmeric use in the west.

In particular, turmeric is added to western dishes to make them healthier. Golden milk (and golden milk lattes) are a good example, as are turmeric shots at juice bars, or turmeric in bottled juices and smoothies. In all these cases, we rarely get much information about the health benefits the turmeric is imparting, flattening the rich history of turmeric usage into a marketing gimmick.

Turmeric is interesting to think of as a health food because it has a number of important uses in Ayurveda. Turmeric is used to balance the doshas and strengthen the overall energy of the body, as well as for a whole host of specific ailments.

In my next book, I talk about turmeric within my section on bitter flavors. It's a fitting place for it, as turmeric has long been used as a bitter digestive aid in Ayurveda. So, if we look at bitterness and turmeric, can we find that deeper connection that moves beyond the exotic?

Bitterness as a flavor has long been used across traditional medicine systems, and in particular for digestion. Bitterness is said to help across the digestive system from nausea to flatulence, and it's interesting to see how different cultures apply it.

Across the traditional medical systems of Ayurveda, humoral medicine, and Chinese medicine, bitterness is used to balance other flavors, thus creating harmony in a finished dish (and by extension, harmony in the body). However, bitterness can be more heavily emphasized to help with acute conditions: If you've ever seen someone drink bitters in soda water for a hangover, or eat a bowl of bitter greens in early spring, you've seen this principle in action.

Turmeric in particular as a bitter flavor warrants some extra attention in this cross-cultural comparison. In many western-style bitter preparations, herbs and fruits tend to be our go to (gruit or hops for beer, bitter orange in bottled cocktail bitters, etc.) But with turmeric, we're seeing a bitter spice, and particularly a bitter root, in action.

Westerners do use some bitter roots (like burdock), but not as commonly as turmeric appears in South Asian cuisines. Turmeric is also used to create balance in a dish writ large: unlike the hops in beer or the bitter orange in bitters, it is rarely the only or even the most prominent flavor profile. Put another way, its role is to round things out rather than pack a punch.

So perhaps one of the lessons from turmeric is that what seems exotic is, in fact, the different face of a familiar idea: A spice that seems unfamiliar might be used in similar ways to ones we already know. Exploring turmeric, and in particular western perceptions of turmeric versus its traditional uses, shows us that each food we eat has its own meaning, to us personally and culturally.

Imagine someone sitting in their study and reading a book: The reader extracts their own meaning from the text as they read, just as the author has written the book with their own meaning in mind. These meanings might not overlap, and each person who reads that book will probably have a slightly different experience with it. But, both meanings are important, and both can help us understand the text in different ways.

Learning about turmeric's history, and thinking of our own relationship to turmeric, is like seeing the story from the perspective of author and reader. The history of turmeric is what has already been written: A story we can turn toward to understand the spice more deeply and to appreciate the complexity of its past. To us, the modern readers (and eaters), this history provides a backdrop behind how we use turmeric, offering a story we can build upon with our own cooking to appreciate this spice in all its nuance and complexity.

Turmeric masala spice syrup

Here is my attempt to make a syrup that honors the Ayurvedic principles of balance (worth noting I'm open to feedback as I'm still learning!)

Bitterness from the turmeric is kept in balance with the warming sweetness of the spices. I also kept the sugar in this one less prominent than earlier recipes to let the spice flavors shine, but also in the spirit of balance. That does reduce its shelf life, so I'd recommend storing it in the fridge and using it within a week.

1 1/4 cup water
1 c sugar
pinch salt
12 green cardamom pods (cut the tip in half lengthwise with kitchen shears to release more flavor)
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 nutmeg nut (score or grate a bit of one side to release the flavor)
1 tsp fennel seeds
2 cinnamon sticks
1 tsp anise seeds
½ tsp whole cloves
2 star anise
½ tsp whole allspice
1 tsp coriander seeds
1 3” knob fresh ginger, sliced, or 1 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp ground turmeric (you can also substitute 2 3" knobs of fresh turmeric)

-Bring water, sugar, and salt to a simmer
-Toast all spices except ginger and turmeric until warm and fragrant
-Add toasted spices, plus turmeric and ginger powder to syrup
-Gently simmer for 20 minutes or until the flavor is as strong as you’d like
-Strain and use warm or store in the refrigerator

Lavender turmeric

Lavender-infused turmeric is a special treat: The floral and sweet flavors of both ingredients play off each other in some fun ways. With the addition of honey, you get a sweet fermented turmeric that’s very good with desserts or with roasted vegetables. As an added bonus, the turmeric is fermented with honey, leaving you a lightly alcoholic lavender and turmeric mead to enjoy as a beverage or in cooking.

This recipe is a sneak peek from the Hidden Cosmos Fermented Oracle + Recipe Deck, and one of my recipes that local restaurants request most often.

1 lb fresh organic turmeric

1 c unpasteurized honey

1 tbsp dried lavender flowers

Water

Quart jar

-Add your turmeric, honey, and lavender to your jar.

-Add water to cover, filling all the way to the neck of the jar

-Shake or stir until honey is dissolved (if a bit doesn’t dissolve, that’s ok: It will when you shake it next)

-Shake or stir at least 1-2 times a day. Ferment for 3-5 days, or until slightly sour and alcoholic.

-Strain out your turmeric and lavender flowers, reserving the turmeric mead for future use. Store the mead in the fridge.

[i] Julia Fine, 2020. “‘Half-Coloured with Turmeric’: The Visual Function of Spices in Early Modern Britain.” The Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery, July 10–August 2, 2020.