Make It Spicy
When you hear the word spice, what comes to mind? Something hot? Maybe you can even feel a sensation on your tongue. Or possibly a scent that seems to float across your nose? I must admit, when someone says the word “cumin”, it conjures up the smoky smell and creates immediate comfort as I think of all the delicious foods it lends its flavor to.
Spices have a fascinating (and complicated) history involving colonization, currency, and war. In today’s economy, it can be hard to imagine fighting over spices since we tend to take them for granted. We can quickly run to the market and pick up a bottle of oregano or cloves, and we have what seems like an endless option of salt on the shelves. But when we indulge in those with bigger price tags – such as saffron and vanilla – we get a glimpse into their precious nature.
As a noun, “spice” is a plant substance that’s added to food to enhance taste. Certain foods are good friends with specific spices, blending well to maximize the experience on our taste buds. For the more adventurous, we explore new territories and tinker to see what works and what doesn’t. Almost like a chemist, we can create different flavor profiles based on combinations and experimentation. The bottom line: when used well, spices make food taste better.
As a verb, we can “spice things up” – the action of using these powders, leaves, and seeds to kick flavors up a notch (no, I will not be quoting Emeril here . . .) or create delight through unexpected taste experiences. Being able to spice food well isn’t complicated, but there is a certain art to it. And when you’re good at it, you almost become a sort of magician.
There have been moments where I’ve had to muster my courage to increase the amount of a specific spice in a dish, since being unfamiliar with it means I need to know its power. In my kitchen, it’s not about using spice in a recipe, but being cautious to not over-season. We all know the experience of biting into something and having it flood our mouth with too much cinnamon, chili, or salt . . . it can stop us in our tracks. Which reminds us of the cardinal rule of spices: We can always add more, but we can’t take it back.
At this point, you’re likely asking “Suzanne: why are we here talking about spices?” My answer comes in the form of a question:
How might we apply the spice analogy to how we communicate?
Let’s step out of the kitchen and into the exchanges we’re having every day. The dialogues we enter into at work, with our family and friends, and in our larger communities. We’ve all had a conversation where we held back on saying something and regretted it after the fact. On the flip side, I’m sure you’ve spoken with someone and seen their eyes glaze over as they wade through what might be too many words coming out of your mouth. There is a delicate balance in communication, just as there is in finding the right level of spice.
What will add zest and build interest for our conversation partners?
Where might we need to be cautious about over-seasoning with too much information and data?
What are the flavors we want to leave with someone when they leave our conversation?
Staying on the spice train (pardon the bad pun . . .), here are a few questions for our communication toolkits. I find it helpful to keep these on hand, based on what I’m looking to achieve:
Influencing: What matters to the person we’re having the conversation with? Does she/he/they have a favorite topic/angle/flavor we’re bringing to the exchange?
Create Connection: What shared interest can we use as the foundation for this conversation? Is there a shared flavor profile/favorite ingredient?
Build Trust: Are we creating space for our conversation partner’s thoughts/opinions? Are we assuming we know what they want without asking? For example: are we asking if they like salt before shaking it over a shared dish?
Reset/Level Setting: Is there a way to spice up the conversation by adding an unexpected topic or suggesting an inventive idea?
Whether you’re a leader, partner, chef or home cook, effective use of words opens up the possibility of creating sweet alchemy (“Nailed it!”) and reduces the chance of cooking up a (kitchen) nightmare.
