Even when you know the recipe won't look like this at your house in the end,
it usually starts with a picture. On the Internet or in a magazine. One that makes you stop flipping.
This one caught my eye (and my ear). I go to the za'atar part and "put it aside for another day." Whole Foods is on the opposite side of town from where I live, and there is no chance in hell any grocery store but Whole Foods with have za'atar in this town, I'm sure.
My husband hears about the salmon and says it's been a long time since we've had baby bok choy. (Please, please.) It's been a long time because there's only one place that sells it - a Chinese market in Ridgeland where you can get a whole bunch for only a $1. Insanely good deal.
Obviously. Because when I get there, it's closed. Closed is really an understatement. It is not even there. No trace left of it. It's a Salon and Spa now. I don't fully trust my eyes, and I have to go inquire at the business next door if that's really what used to be the Chinese market. (I mean I was just there last month!) It was.
This begins a flurry of text messages. I had promised baby bok choy in place of za'atar-roasted carrots but there is no baby bok choy, so this slush-pile recipe is back on. The flurry ends with my husband proclaiming that maybe we should just open a Chinese market on our side of the Reservoir to ensure that we can have baby bok choy in the future. (I let this one go unanswered as I allow it as just a step in the grief process.)
Off to Whole Foods. For this particular recipe, I think, gas mileage should also be factored in to the per-person cost. And that was before I found the za'atar.
I think it's the Z. My maiden name was Zehnder and I'm drawn to Z's. It feels like "Jumanji" on my tongue. Even though that's a J. And much softer. Out loud za'atar sounds almost military-like but inside my head it's much softer.
I break out the reading glasses. All of the spices are alphabetized so I'm thinking I just go to the last spot on the last row and grab it. Wrong. I can't find it. Anywhere. (If you would like to try my same experiment, go to your local Whole Foods and ask someone in the produce section near the spices where the za'atar is. There is no happy ending.)
I have that moment. When you've gone to Whole Foods for one ingredient and you can't find that one ingredient and it hits you that you're going to have to go to another grocery store anyways. Do you put what you've bought back and just leave? No, I decide. It's my Saturday and I'm not spending it grocery shopping (as I'm obviously going to spend it cooking).
I do what any rational person would. I start googling "za'atar replacement" on my smartphone. No replacement suggestions. Only recipes. I find a recipe. So I start searching for sumac next (which I don't have at home). Then I start googling sumac because I've never heard of it. No sumac. Back to Square One. (Special thanks to whoever took the time to comment on the Serious Eats site that if you can't find za'atar, you ain't going to be able to find sumac either.)
I see there are many spice blends at the top of the Spicely rack - taco seasoning, Mediterranean blends and such. I am now on the hunt for a "Middle Eastern Spice Blend" or similar. No such luck, but in reading every damn box, I find it. It's like that moment. In the movie. With the gold halo and the special music. ZA'ATAR, damnit!
We were going to have za'atar-roasted carrots. (This would somehow make up for the fact that the liquor store next to Whole Foods did not have limoncello, so we would not be having
Raspberry Limoncello Prosecco! In the end, we do not have grilled salmon kebabs either because it's pouring down rain.
We have pan-fried salmon.)
Za'atar-roasted carrots are damn good. But so are just plain roasted carrots with spices of your choosing - and it doesn't cost $3 for 3 tablespoons of those spices.
I only used one tablespoon for this recipe. Online cooks have suggested I can sprinkle it on pita bread or hummus, but for now, I have it sitting on my spice shelf - right next to the gold, frankincense and myrrh.