Diary of a Shopkeeper, 8th June
Back at the start of the year I spent several weeks writing an A to Z of deli food and drink. I was trying to cover three letters every week, and it was a real challenge to convey the history, flavours and fun of tasty stuff like Riesling, Sardines and Taleggio in 250 words each. In the end I was defeated by only two topics, the most ubiquitous and seemingly simplest of ingredients: salt and pepper. These seasonings turned out to be so interesting and complex that I couldn’t do them justice in the space available, so had to leave them out.
Now I’m going to take up the challenge again, making life easier by devoting this week’s diary to just one subject: pepper. Even with 750 words at my disposal, I’ll have to narrow things down. I won’t talk about peppers of the Capsicum family, which includes red, yellow end green peppers, as well as chilli peppers.
I can’t fit in Sichuan Pepper, a remarkable mouth-befuddling spice from south-west China. I do remember being introduced to it by Stewart Craigie of the Hope, at an extremely basic Formica-tabled Chinese carryout in Fountainbridge. Stewart reckoned the Wing Sing Inn served the best Chinese food in Edinburgh. It was certainly the most Chinese food, with no concessions to Scottish expectations: dishes like Shredded Pig Ear and Beef Stomach Pot were a long way from Sweet and Sour Chicken. Everything came doused in a peculiar spice that at first tingled the tongue, then sent my whole mouth buzzing and numb: Sichuan Pepper.
But I don’t have space for that. Nor for Kampot Pepper from Cambodia, which I fell in love with at a trade fair in spring 2020, and ordered in bulk – in multi-coloured varieties – for a grand introduction to Orkney food-lovers. Sad to say, it disappeared into the black hole of that Covid summer, my stocks went out of date, and my heart went out of promoting it.
But my love remains strong for good old black pepper, which I sprinkle or grind over just about everything that lands on my plate:
Golden, bubbling cheese on toast with a thick sprinkling of black spice-specks.
Duck breast brushed with honey and studded with roughly crushed peppercorns (sweet and hot is a beautiful combination.)
Even Caithness strawberries, halved and sprinkled with a tiny amount of sugar to draw out the juices then a whisper of pepper to bring a surprising but flavour-enhancing kick.
I do think it’s far better to use freshly-ground peppercorns rather than pre-ground powder in a plastic tub. The flavour and aroma of the pepper starts to disappear as soon as it’s ground, so the sooner after grinding you use them the better.
It’s easy to give a quick twist of the grinder over whatever you’re cooking, without really thinking about it, and only changing the food subliminally. But if you choose, pepper can contribute a huge amount of character to a dish. Another Chinese restaurant taught me this. It was a long time ago, and I’ve forgotten the name of the carry-out (it was in South Queensferry) but I still remember the glorious aroma that burst out of the tinfoil tray when I peeled back the lid on my Pepper Sauce Chicken. The sauce was thick and almost black: there must have been two tablespoons of pepper in my serving. That made it as fiery as a Madras, but with a completely different flavour: sharp, citrussy, earthy. In short, a revelation.
Twenty years ago, Gunnie Moberg and Tam MacPhail introduced us to two of their friends, rare book dealers Kulgin Duval and Colin Hamilton. Somehow Kulgin and Colin were involved with a pepper farm in Kerala, south-west India.
‘It’s the best pepper in the world,’ said Colin.
‘Where can I get some?’ I asked.
‘Valvona & Crolla in Edinburgh,’ said Kulgin. ‘Or…you have a deli: why not import it direct and sell it yourself?’
I agreed to give it a go, and a couple of days later I received an email from Akash Parameswaran: ‘Hope you’re well and enjoying. Your order has been despatched and should be with you very soon.’
Three months later a battered and very heavy cardboard box arrived containing 120 cotton bags, each protecting a 75g pack of gnarly black peppercorns. Colin was right: it was the best pepper in the world, or the best I’ve ever tasted. It’s become a key ingredient in everything I cook, and a staple on the shop’s shelves. K&G is one of very outlets for this marvellous spice. Valvona & Crolla still sell it, as do Spice Mountain, an online store based in London – both at a considerably higher price than we charge, I have to say!
The little white bags are easy to overlook, just as the humble peppercorn is easy to take for granted. But to do so is to miss out on one of life’s great culinary experiences.
This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 13th June 2025. A new diary appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations, and occasional small corrections or additions.