As spice trader Yusef scoops up an enormous handful of pistachios from an open sack, another trader elbows his way through the dusty alleyways of the Dubai Spice Souk carrying bulging bags of cinnamon and cloves. The two men collide due to the throng of tourists, and pistachios fly skywards, tumbling on to the cobbled street. Unfazed, and sporting a toothy grin, he shrugs his shoulders: "Doesn't matter, Miss. I have plenty more."
Looking around the narrow meandering lanes of the souk, a kaleidoscope of colours cascades over bench-top displays where every spice imaginable is chaotically ordered in rows. Pyramids of multi-hued powders, nuts, dried fruits, plant seeds and various leaves are piled high, bursting from their sacks and precariously stacked up against one another. The air is heavy with flavour, pungent spicy smells and traders calling out their wares: "I have cinnamon, cardamom, saffron, pepper, turmeric, chili. Come. Look. See. I have rose buds, coriander, cumin, vanilla …" the lyrical trader barely takes a breath as he scrambles to pick up the pistachios, his voice trailing away behind me.
Spices have a long history in these parts and even the breezes that swirl through the alleyways carry a hint of the past and a heady mix of cultures. An enticing blend of herbs and spices, scented woods, delicate marinades and exotic sauces, the Middle East's love affair with food and fragrance can be traced back to chronicles of arduous nomadic journeys and rustic culinary life. The term souk is Arabic term for market, but historically, souks were so much more than just places to buy and sell goods. Festivals, cultural and social activities unfolded there, and they often served as the cornerstone of nomadic life. Aromatics were among the earliest commodities of prehistoric trade and it is thought that, at various periods in history, spices have been as valuable as gold and silver. For centuries, dhows from the Far East and neighbouring Arabic countries have been anchoring in Dubai bringing their exotic herbs and spices to these trading families of the spice souk.
On the Deira side of the Creek, just off Old Baladiya road, I talk first to trader Jamil Haghighat from Iran. "I came to Dubai 18 years ago to work here with my family - my brother, father and uncles. This was their life. My family's livelihood. Now I'm in charge. I get my spices from India, Iran, Pakistan, Greece but at least 70 per cent is from Iran as the spices are very good. It comes by dhow to the Creek. I get a delivery every two days. All shops here in the spice market get one or two containers' worth of spices from different countries every couple of days."
Yusef Esmati, from Shiraz, in Iran, elaborates further: "Lots of Iranians work here as we know our spices. There are around 120 people working here in the spice souk and it's a very old market. It's a real community, too - I know everyone and they know me. It's so cheap here to buy spices compared to Europe where it's very expensive. Plus, I think the spice souk is very important to Dubai - it's famous. If you are visiting Dubai you simply have to come here. It's very beautiful and old, and we have the best selection of spices."
And Esmati does an excellent job of attracting absolutely everybody. His shop is as close as you can get nowadays to the traditional apothecary, and he welcomes them all in, proudly speaking in Arabic, Italian, Spanish, English, German and French. "All people come here. They buy small packets as they cannot carry a lot. Sumac is popular for the kebab and also zatar, oregano and salt is good for bread. People love cardamom, which is used in coffee. Cloves are used in cooking rice, whilenutmeg and turmeric colour the rice. You can then grind all of these and make a great curry."
And that's just the beginning. Listening to the traders, their message is unanimous. In various forms, spices have served as appetisers, digestives, antiseptics, therapeutics, tonics and aphrodisiacs for not hundreds, but thousands of years. In ancient times a spice seems to have been defined as anything that bore a strong aroma. Thus, herbs, spices and incense could all come under the label "spice". Perhaps the most important aspect of an ancient spice was that it should not be perishable and could be transported for many months with little loss of pungency.
Spices, as a trip to the souk will teach you, can be burnt like incense in religious ceremonies, added to coffee to lend an Arabic taste, chewed as breath freshener or treasured for their medicinal qualities. And of course there is no end to the uses to which they can be put in the cooking pot. For centuries, tables of the Middle East have groaned with a dizzying combination of exotic seasonings, sweet and sour tastes, aromatic fragrances all layered with vivid flavours echoing a colourful past rich in history.
Amri Hayhiyhat is, like the other traders, passionate about his business and talks about the significance of spices for Arabs in particular: "Spices are very important in Arabic food and the most popular spice is saffron - the king of all spices," enthuses the Iranian. "You can tell its quality by dipping it in water. If the water goes red it's not good; if it goes yellow it's good quality. Always ask to try it before you buy. The best saffron is from Iran. Saffron from anywhere else is just not so good. It's like gold and so is the price. I charge Dh20 for one gram for the good stuff, only Dh1 per gram for the saffron from India. I sell 10 kilos per week of different spices, around two kilos of which is saffron. It goes to local restaurants and hotels, which just goes to show how important it is out here."
Spices of every kind are rooted in the history of the region and its peoples; Arab spice traders historically monopolised the movement of herbs and spices between Asia, India, Africa and Europe. As the Islamic empires grew, spreading further West, the Arabs and later the Ottomans introduced their favourite seasonings and flavourful spices to their food. Middle Eastern cuisine has therefore absorbed the flavours of almost every spice in existence. With ingredients bought from neighbouring places, each country has its own distinctive cuisine, influenced by preferred spices and subtlety of flavours, lending credence to the philosophy that "you are what you eat".
However, there appear to be unifying ingredients and inclinations. Arabic culture is renowned for its hospitality, flavoursome dishes and the notion that daily life revolves around the dining table. One eatery which neatly embodies this is the Khan Murjan restaurant in Wafi's recreation of a 14th-century souk. With dishes featuring Lebanese, Moroccan, Turkish, Syrian, Egyptian and local cuisines, it prides itself on celebrating the rich tapestry that makes up Middle Eastern food.
"When you talk about Arabia you are talking about different foods," says Bilal Alfil, the food and beverage manager of Wafi Gourmet and Khan Murjan. "Different countries or regions have particular spice blends or preferences and the herbs and spices define a country's cuisine. "Arabian food in general is not spicy in terms of hotness, but in fragrance or strong flavour. There are sweet spices such as paprika, sweet pepper and cinnamon which are used for fragrance and colouring the food. We Arabs like our food to be rich - rich in flavour. Imagine eating food without spices, it would have no taste, spices give food life."
Explaining the differences between regional cuisines, it is obvious that region, raw materials and tradition rule supreme. Bread, meat and vegetables, for example, are universal staples but have different cooking methods. The way the food is prepared, the care lavished on the preparation, it all reflects something of the character of each country, as food and culture are inextricably intertwined. "Take Falafel" says Bilal. "The Lebanese use garlic and coriander in the recipe while the Egyptians often use dill. In general, Egyptian cuisine is based around white and black pepper and dill.
"The Iranians are different as they like to include all spices. For them, marination is key. They marinate the ingredients, then add more spices again during cooking and then even after the cooking they add more spice for decoration. Cumin, ginger, chili are favourites. Iranians love their spices." With the advantageous climate of the Mediterranean, Bilal explains that Lebanon makes the most of what the earth has to offer under the nourishing sun. Olives, olive oil, chickpeas, dates, figs and pomegranates have all influenced Lebanese cuisine. Sweet spices such as sweet pepper, black pepper, c innamon, coriander, sumac, zatar and thyme are also Lebanese favourites.
Echoing this sentiment is chef Samir Yakoumi from the Lebanese Abdel Wahab restaurant, Souq Qaryat Al Beri, in Abu Dhabi. "In Lebanese cuisine the dishes differ from one part of the country to the other. The secret is all in the mixing of ingredients and the method of cooking," he says. "Some regions for example use less or more of an ingredient or spice. Take hummus, some regions might use less or more of tahini paste. Then, when it comes to cooked dishes, Lebanese sauces tend to be thicker than Syrian or Moroccan ones due to the amount of flour used, and the colour will be different. You also have to consider that many recipes have been passed down in families from grandmothers. The main courses also take a lot of time to prepare so you often have to be in the kitchen the day before a big family event. It is a labour of love."
On walking into Khan Murjan restaurant, your first impression is a mouthwatering scent; I am drawn to the bread ovens, the heart and focal point of the restaurant, where piping hot flatbreads emerge constantly from the flames of the tandoor (clay oven). The aroma of hot bread is almost overpowering. Though a staple in almost every nationality's cuisine, the way bread is cooked differs from place to place. Samir Najie, a Moroccan chef, clarifies: "Egyptian bread is made with wholegrain flour and yeast so it makes a soft dough. When we place it in the tandoor, within one minute it pops up like popcorn. Arabic and Lebanese bread is different as you use white flour and less yeast so it stays flat. We cook these by sticking the flat dough to the inside of the hot walls."
Moving on through my gastronomical journey around the open-plan kitchen, Najie steers me to his next few dishes, Harira soup (see, recipe, right) - a favourite in Moroccan cuisine using coriander and parsley. Then comes the tagine - a delectable combination of meat, poultry and vegetables simmered in sauces redolent with cumin and saffron. "I love to work with food. I like the kitchen; I know it's where I belong. When I was a child I lived in the kitchen, I loved the smell of my mother's food. Cooking is art for me. You learn about life in the kitchen. I learnt from people and they learn from me. I don't follow a recipe book as the recipe is in my heart.
"There is an ancient proverb that says,'in Marrakech you will eat with your eyes', and I always remember as a child the sights and smells of the spicy food as I walked through the markets. I was nine or 10 years old and there were items being sold from all over the country. It was like a movie, and very noisy and crowded. There were storytellers and snake charmers and people carrying monkeys on their shoulders. People running to and fro. So many open stalls with people shouting and selling their things. You could always smell the food from far away; grilled meat, saffron soup, chicken tagine and the smell of the barbecue. There were stalls selling cumin, coriander, saffron, ginger, cinnamon and paprika. I knew then that I wanted to be a chef."
Everybody with a passion for spices, flavours and food seems to agree that food isn't just fuel; properly cooked, it's something that defines the very essence of culture, whetting the appetite for life. "For us Arabs, food isn't just something that you put on your plate," says Bilal. "It's so much more than that. It's desire, comfort, family, life. It is old as time itself. Arabic culture has always focused on food and the family. We celebrate our food. Arabic people want to feed you.
"People who have a passion for food have a passion for life. When you stop caring about what you eat, you stop caring about life."