When I first started cooking regularly, back in college, I had a simple strategy: If some is good, more is better. That was especially true with garlic and spices: Too many recipes, in my opinion, were too timid, and I used a heavy hand with seasonings. And it worked — sometimes. Those times, the result was wonderfully bold, just what I was after. But when it didn’t work, more garlic was just … more garlic, which was … too much garlic.
I’ve gotten more sophisticated and subtle with my cooking (amid other things) in the years since. No longer do I put a head’s worth of raw (!) garlic in a potato salad and grin when picnic guests reek for hours after eating it. But I still tend to go big with spices, especially some of my favorites, such as smoked paprika, the Middle Eastern blends za’atar and baharat, and the lemony-tart sumac. And every time I use sumac, I remember watching chef Ana Sortun (of Oleana fame) cook at a symposium at Harvard University a few years ago, and marveling as she threw around brick-red sumac by the fistful.
I thought of Ana, who is a master of Mediterranean spices, when I made a satisfying salad recipe from Sarah Mayor’s “The Farmhouse Cookbook.” I was drawn to Mayor’s crunch-heavy approach; she tosses sliced fennel and celery, cubed apple and walnuts with farro that she seasons with pomegranate molasses, sumac and chopped herbs.
But I couldn’t stop at a mere tablespoon of pomegranate molasses nor a teeny quarter-teaspoon of sumac — the least I’ve ever used in a recipe. I tasted, and started piling on. Double the pomegranate molasses. Quadruple the sumac. Better. In went the other ingredients. Double the walnuts! (Why not more crunch?) I tasted again. Nice. Subtle. And, well, maybe a little humdrum. So I poured in another glug of pomegranate molasses, and I put down the teaspoon measure and grabbed the tablespoon and sumac. In went two scoops — not exactly a fistful, but enough to color the entire dish with that earthy tang.