Curry powder
A British-Indian jar that the books still reach for when a kitchen wants turmeric, coriander, and speed.
Thai cuisine · Pantry
The Thai pantry
Every mix, leaf, chile, fat, and spice Thai cooking names in the International Cuisines series — the full shelf a home cook actually reaches for.
The Thai shelf from the book: what the recipes assume, what the free pages smell like, and what belongs next to the hearths of this kitchen.
Special mixes
Special mixes
Green curry paste
Thai green chile, makrut, galangal, and shrimp paste pounded together.
Massaman curry paste
The Muslim-Thai paste: cardamom, cinnamon, and a quieter heat.
Panang curry paste
A thicker, peanut-leaning red curry from central Thailand.
Spice paste
The unnamed pound of aromatics a recipe assumes you already know how to make.
Herbs
Herbs
Basil
One name, many plants: the sweet leaf of pesto, the anise leaf of Thai curries, the holy leaf of Indian kitchens.
Bay leaf
The leaf you never eat and always miss if it is gone: 29 kitchens in the series drop it into a pot and fish it out later.
Chives
A green onion you do not cook hard: the last snip on eggs, a soup, and a Thai or German plate that wants freshness.
Dill
The feathery green of pickles, yogurt, and fish — and, in this series, of 23 kitchens that refuse to treat it as only a Northern herb.
Lemongrass
A stalk that smells like lemon and sugarcane: the base of Thai tom yum, Vietnamese broths, and Indonesian spice pastes.
Makrut lime leaf
The double leaf that makes a Thai pot smell like itself: citrus oil without the juice, perfume without the pith.
Parsley
The green that finishes a pot in 27 of the 30 books: not a garnish, a last bright note.
Tea leaf
Loose leaves for a pot and for a marinade — jasmine, black, or the ceremony tray.
Spices
Spices
Black pepper
The berry that paid rents, launched fleets, and still sits beside salt on almost every ComidaTime table.
Cardamom
Green pods that smell of eucalyptus and citrus — coffee's companion in the east, pastry's secret in the north.
Cinnamon
Bark rolled into quills: the sweet wood that traveled with frankincense and still perfumes both pastry and stew.
Clove
A flower bud that once belonged to a handful of islands — and to every power that wanted those islands.
Coriander seed
The seed that is not the leaf: warm, lemony, and the other half of cumin in a hundred pastes.
Cumin
The seed that smells like a courtyard after rain — and the backbone of more ComidaTime recipes than almost any other spice.
Galangal
The pine-and-citrus rhizome Thai tom kha cannot replace with ginger.
Garlic powder
The dry closet version of the clove — useful in a rub, never a substitute for a smashed clove in oil.
Paprika
The red powder the 30 books reach for more than any other named spice after salt and pepper: color, sweetness, and a little smoke.
Sesame seed
A tiny seed that toasts into a whole aroma: bread, bagels, goma, and the crunch on a Korean banchan.
Tamarind
Sour pulp of a shade tree: pad Thai, rasam, agua de tamarindo, and Worcestershire's ghost.
Turmeric
The rhizome that dyes fingers, rice, and memory gold — food first, medicine closet second.
Vanilla
The orchid pod that sweet kitchens treat as air — and savory Mexican moles still remember.
White pepper
The same vine as black, soaked and hulled — heat without the dark specks, a Chinese and French habit.
Chiles
Chiles
Bird chile
The chile that birds scatter and cooks fear a little: the heat of Thai, Vietnamese, and a few Ethiopian pots.
Chile
The generic heat the books still write when a kitchen means flakes, powder, or a dried red.
Dried chile
Whole dried pods — the starting point of a Mexican salsa and a Chinese oil.
Green chile
Fresh heat, unnamed variety: the instruction to add a living pepper.
Oils and fats
Oils and fats
Butter
The fat that appears in every volume of the series: pale, sweet, and older than the word cuisine.
Cooking oil
The unnamed bottle the books reach for when the fat should stay quiet: fry, coat, and get out of the spice's way.
Olive oil
The green-gold fat of 29 kitchens in the series: a fruit juice that learned to travel, and then to stay.
Flavorings
Flavorings
Coconut milk
The fat of a curry and a Brazilian moqueca when coconut is the coast.
Fish sauce
The salt of Vietnam and Thailand: fish, time, and a smell that becomes sweetness in the pot.
Oyster sauce
Cantonese gloss: oyster extract, soy, and sugar, the brown sheen on greens and stir-fries.
Palm sugar
The caramel of Thai and Indonesian pots — not white sugar with a tan.
Peanut sauce
The satay dip: groundnut, chile, and a little sweet.
Soy sauce
The brown salt of East and Southeast Asian pots: not 'Asian seasoning,' but a specific fermentation the books name thirty-one times.
Tahini
Sesame turned into a sauce: hummus, a dressing, a drizzle, and the jar the books open in twenty kitchens.
Tomato paste
The spoon of cooked tomato that turns a thin pot into a sauce — 28 kitchens in the series keep a tin.
Vinegar
The unnamed sour the books reach for when lemon is not on the board.
Aromatics
Aromatics
Garlic
The clove that starts more ComidaTime pots than any other aromatic — smashed, sliced, or left whole in oil.
Onion
The first cut in almost every ComidaTime pot: sweet when slow, sharp when raw, the aromatic the books assume you already have.
Scallion
Green onion: the fresh allium you slice at the end, or fry into a pancake.
Shallot
Onion's finer cousin — the French and Thai allium that melts into a sauce instead of shouting.
Keep cooking
The Thai pantry, pots, and table
The spices, mixes, and hearths that belong to Thai cooking — then the people around them, and the kitchens still joining the table.
Open the Thai pantry Open Thai cookware The Thai table Host a Thai night Join the community