Special mixes, page 3 — ComidaTime Pantry

Mexican green sauce: tomatillo, chile, cilantro — raw or roasted, never bottled parsley.

The blend the books still call Seven-spice — a working jar, not a garnish word.

Cumin, coriander, turmeric, and paprika — the rotisserie dust of the Levant.

Seven flavors shaken over noodles: chile, sanshō, orange peel, sesame, nori, and heat you can see.

The fasting flour that becomes a silky wat — chickpea, onion, and niter kibbeh in one bowl.

The sofrito a kitchen means when it does not specify Puerto Rican, Spanish, or Cuban.

The unnamed pound of aromatics a recipe assumes you already know how to make.

Groundnut, chile, and ginger — the dust that makes West African grilled meat taste like the street.

Chile, lime, and salt in a shaker — fruit, cucumber, and beer all asking for the same dust.

The red marinade dust of a tandoor: chile, cumin, and the color of a celebration.

Tomato cooked down with aromatics until it is a cooking fat more than a sauce.

Shiro miso: sweet, pale, and the dressing for a Japanese cucumber or a piece of black cod.

Yuzu zest, green or red chile, and salt — a Kyushu ferment that wakes a pot of nabe.

Breakfast on a flatbread: the green, sour, sesame mix that Levantine tables put out the way other houses put out butter.

Green fire from Yemen — cilantro, chile, cardamom — now at home on falafel and grilled fish.