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Salt of the Earth: Sweeten the Pot

Writer's picture: boxton9boxton9

Updated: May 26, 2023

From 1001 Nights to Alice’s Restaurant, this cannabis-laced confection has been a favored treat of mystics, artists, and healers.


Edible Hudson Valley/Edible Westchester, Summer 2019


By Laura Chávez Silverman

Images by Randazzo & Blau


In her recipe column, Salt of the Earth, Laura Silverman writes about the hashish-laden candy of Morocco, Mahjoun.


To be clear, at this point, we were writing about hemp—the non-THC containing strain of cannabis. There were several reasons why we felt that it was important to devote an issue to weed in Edible. 1) We could see that cannabis agriculture was about to change the lives of many NYS farmers. 2) We were excited about weed as a regenerative crop that can literally remove pollutants from the soil. 3) We could smell that the legalization of recreational weed was imminent. 4) We knew that recreational weed was already hitting the underground food scene. 5) We were all for reparations made to the communities unequally prosecuted under Rockefeller Drug Laws. 6) After The Porn Issue of the previous summer, we wanted to top it.


Use The Weed Issue tag below to see some of the stories in this issue.


In 1954, Alice B. Toklas, life partner of the poet Gertrude Stein, published her eponymous, best-selling cookbook, which included a now-famous recipe for “hashish fudge,” a precursor to the immortal pot brownie. Toklas credits the poet and performance artist Brion Gysin with having given her the recipe, procured during his sojourn in Tangier, where this cannabis-laced confection is known as mahjoun. Needless to say, it was extremely popular with William Burroughs, Paul Bowles, and their adventurous band of expats.


Mahjoun, also known as “hashish jam,” has long been a traditional form of healing for the Berbers, Morocco’s indigenous peoples. It is most likely the favored treat of mystics, artists, and healers referred to throughout 1001 Nights. There are countless variations on this theme of dried fruits, nuts, and aromatic spices made into a paste and rolled into bite-size balls—sometimes including ingredients as arcane as starlight and beetle wings.


To make a version of mahjoun that’s legal in the Hudson Valley, try this recipe that substitutes CBD oil for the cannabis. It has its own calming and soothing properties, as do the rose petals and orange blossom water that moisten the rich combination of nuts, dates, and figs. Toklas deemed mahjoun “an entertaining refreshment for a ladies’ bridge club or a chapter meeting of the DAR,” so it seems there’s no parlor in which it wouldn’t be welcome.


MAHJOUN


6 ounces pistachios, shelled

3 ounces unsalted cashews, lightly toasted

4 ounces almonds, lightly toasted

4 ounces Medjool dates, pitted

3 ounces Black Mission figs, stems removed

¾ cup unsalted cultured butter, softened

½ cup honey

¼ cup hulled hemp seeds

3 teaspoons rosewater

2 teaspoons rose petals

1 tablespoon crystallized ginger, finely minced

1 teaspoon orange blossom water

1 teaspoon whole peppercorns, ground

1 whole nutmeg, ground

1 teaspoon ground coriander

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

1 teaspoon turmeric powder

1 teaspoon sea salt, or to taste

CBD oil, to taste


In a food processor, grind the pistachios into small pieces, not into a paste. Set aside ¼ cup for coating jam balls. Grind the cashews and almonds and mix with the remaining pistachios. Finely dice dates and figs.


Mix and knead all the ingredients together (except the reserved pistachios). Add a little more rosewater if mixture seems too dry; more ground nuts if too wet. Roll into balls about the size of a walnut and roll in the ground pistachios to coat. Place mahjoun balls in a single layer in a container, seal, and store in the fridge indefinitely.


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About Me

I Was Supposed to Go to Grad School

Growing up in a large, loud family of 7, they use to call me “Pass Me The, Pass Me The” for the way that I’d try to doctor my dinner with whatever condiments were on hand. At about 8 or 9, I gave up on condiments and took control of dinner entirely, cooking out of a beat-up copy of The New York Times Cookbook that I still own, my little penciled-in annotations intact. I cooked for 7 people nightly, all throughout high school. By the time I was winding up college, I’d become a damn fine cook.

 

My father was a professor of American History. I figured I’d follow in those footsteps, teaching Dickens to 18-year-olds who were not at all interested. I gathered applications to doctorate programs, meanwhile, I took a job as a waiter in a busy catering company. The kitchen where I worked was perpetually understaffed—my cooking skills were quickly identified and I was press-ganged onto their crew. I LOVED it—the excitement, the creativity, the freedom, the trench humor, learning professional cooking techniques. There I stayed for several years while my graduate school applications gathered dust.

 

Cue me, later, a refugee from a crash-and-burn restaurant opening where I was not only the sous-chef, but also the loan application writer and babysitter for a chef/owner who had gone spectacularly off the rails. By then, I had a couple of herniated discs and no desire to stay in restaurants. I moved back to the world of words, and I’ve never looked back. 

 

Since then, I’ve been a restaurant critic, a national award-winning blogger, a food journalist, a travel writer, a columnist, a cookbook author, and the editor-in-chief of four Edible titles. I can’t wait to see what's next.

 

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