Photo by Patrick Shipstad

I am not what you’d call an organized person.  To my husband’s dismay, today’s mail is never left in the same place, receipts sometimes linger in my purse while he tries to balance the checkbook, and our neighbors must overhear me yelling to him desperately from upstairs, “Have you seen my sandals?”

So it was with a considerable amount of doubt that David followed me from store to store as I sought out the perfect spice rack.  Surely he imagined the rack gathering dust in disarray while the turmeric sat on the counter.  Up until that point, I’d been using a shoebox.  I’d be mid-recipe, food frying in a pan, while I sorted through jar after jar in the box, each lid looking the same as the next.  As my spice collection grew, so did my frustration.  It was as if I was playing one of those carnival games with rubber ducks floating in a child’s pool, turn it over and get a prize.  All the while, my food was becoming a menacing shade of dark brown.

I didn’t want a spice rack that came with its own already-filled jars.  I’m pretty picky about the spices I buy, and besides, I already had full jars of spices at home.  I also didn’t want a rack that came with empty jars.  Why move spices from one place to another?  Finally, I wanted a rack that would be able to hold my spices of varying shapes and sizes.

Several stores into our journey, I found what I was looking for at the Container Store.  It wasn’t quite large enough to hold all of my spices, but it was pretty close.  Then I arranged the spices alphabetically from Allspice and Asafoetida to Vanilla.  Knowing my history of organization, David must have had a giggle and a few choice thoughts about how long that would last.  He’s a wonderful husband, though.  He just smiled and said, “That’s nice, sweetheart.”

However, it’s years later and the alphabetized spices live on.  I’m now to the point where I can go on reflex to the exact place to find oregano, or basil, or cumin.  (Truth be told, though, the turmeric is, in fact, sitting on the counter.  Ironically, it’s because David likes to keep it there next to his green tea.  Every morning when he’s making his first cup of the day, he shakes in a little bit for its anti-inflammatory, cancer-fighting properties.)

I have a fondness for spices in the way that a painter might feel about paint.  They are full of possibilities, and they can bring the creation you’re dreaming about to vibrant life.  So it was with that kind of eagerness that I set out to add to my collection with the purchase of Old Bay Seasoning.  From poking about on other food sites on the internet, it seems that people who grew up with this blend of spices and herbs, which has been around since the 1940’s, have strong opinions about this being the definitive flavoring when it comes to crab cakes.

Of course, I have no plans or desire to cook crabs.  However, the Zucchini Cakes in Vegan Table could be considered Vegan Crab Cakes.  Zucchini is grated and then twisted tightly in a towel to squeeze out excess liquid.  (The recipe notes that two towels may be necessary, but I think it’s good to stop at one.  You don’t want the zucchini to be overly wet, but if it’s too dry, the cakes won’t hold together.)  Then Old Bay Seasoning is added, which is a blend of celery salt, bay leaf, mustard seed, black and red pepper, cinnamon, and ginger.  (I like to double the amount of Old Bay Seasoning in the recipe.)  Finally, bread crumbs and minced onion enter the mix before the cakes are coated in flour and fried.  I served these cakes with a big mixed salad, bread and hummus, and they were immediately gobbled up.  The seasoning stands out nicely against the very mild zucchini and bread crumbs.  The recipe says it serves eight, but I was cooking for four and they were so delicious, there was nary a cake left behind.

With the addition of Old Bay Seasoning and a few others that have made their way into Cadry’s Kitchen, I have a feeling another spice rack is in our immediate future.  Perhaps there’s still a chance that I’ll become an organized person after all… one spice at a time.