The Spice Drawer

My spice drawer is a small archive of everywhere I've been. Saffron from a market in Valencia, in a little tin with a lady on it. Sumac my friend Yusuf brought back from his mother's kitchen in Gaziantep. A jar of smoked paprika I bought on my honeymoon. Chili flakes from a farmers market in Santa Fe where the farmer made me taste six kinds first.

When I cook, I'm traveling. A pinch of something and I'm back on a sunny street, or in a friend's kitchen, or standing in a crowded market with my wallet clutched in my hand and my eyes wide open.

My roommate teases me because I won't throw out the empty jars. I like the smell of them when I open the drawer. It's the smell of good days. I'm running low on the sumac. I'll have to call Yusuf. That's half the point.