When only your sea salt will do.
The past five years have been invaded by a plethora of salts across restaurant tables in London, Paris, New York, to the coastal culinary regions like San Francisco, Sydney, and the Riviera. With varieties from Sel de Guérain and Grey Sea Salt, to Black Volcanic Sea salt—Not to mention the rise of the pink salt from the Himalayas.
Given that I am a salt romantic, I recently counted 13 different types of salt in my pantry—much to my embarrassment. It was not intentional; somehow friends give them to me like adults given children candy. As I travel I seem to pick up a bag here and there and find they can make a difference. Ok, maybe 13 is a bit much.
Recently I decided to make my own mix, I was on holiday in the Mediterranean and picked up a basic bag of coarse sea salt at a very friendly price. I decided to make my own Rosemary Sea Salt (see Recipe Memoirs). Not only did I love the experience, but found that I could really personalize my blend and flavors, adding as much rosemary and lemon as I wanted to, given the usage. While you may be able to buy a rosemary sea-salt, I find some of them to have a peculiar and unpleasant after-taste and prefer creating a personal blend.
During the winter months, I love making roasted chicken with garlic and root vegetables— and somehow using my own sea salt from the Mediterranean makes it all seem that much more poetic. I find rubbing the chicken and the vegetables with the salt produces a very fragrant and flavorful meal. When friends sit down for dinner someone inevitably comments on my obsession with sea salt when they are faced with the decision of which to use; and when I propose my rosemary sea salt— a good story follows.
Rony Zibara
Editor-In-Chief and the gourmand-gourmet behind Poetry of Food; a food memoir which has been in preparation since he was a child. His earliest memories are in the kitchen with his mother cooking French and Lebanese dishes, and with his South American grandmother making Spanish dishes as the cook prepared a repertoire of salsas and sauces. Having grown up in Beirut and lived between Paris, Toronto and now New York, Rony’s food and travel experiences have always been part of his personal cuisine. An avid storyteller, he believes it’s not about the size of the catch, but about the day. It’s the experience, the setting, the people, and most importantly, the ingredients that turn the meal and the flavors into a memory. While not a professionally trained chef, Rony is a cook by all counts; his life revolves around the culinary joys of food, searching out new ingredients, new recipes, and new cultures. And while he loves the restaurant scene, he is not an obsessed follower. Rony’s food passions lie in the poetry of the everyday meal and not in the pursuit of the absolute ‘best’ or perfect meal. His extensive career in innovating and branding new products and experiences has been a great support and backdrop for his passions in food culture and is evident in the overall design and presentation of this food memoir.