Ginger: a taste of paradise
In the first of a new series on the hidden history of our spice racks, we see how a fragrant root from east Asia found its way to plates and biscuit tins all over the world
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In Muslim communities around the world, certain dishes are inextricably linked to Ramadan and the ending of the daily fast. Haleem, or khitchro as it is known in Gujarati cuisine, is the one I grew up with.
Made of beef or lamb, grains and lentils cooked to a porridge-like consistency, this hearty stew fills you up as soon as you look at it. It’s the definition of comfort food, flavoured with earthy cumin, cinnamon, cardamom and cloves. The most prominent note in my family’s recipe, though, is that of ginger — a spice that has a special place in the Qur’an.
“And they will be given a drink of pure wine flavoured with ginger,” reads a description of paradise in the Surah Al-Insan. The passage evokes both luxury and warmth and hints at the importance of ginger during the lifetime of the prophet Muhammad. It is one of a handful of plants mentioned in the holy book.
The fragrant root of the ginger plant has played a huge part in the history of global commerce. Its origin is widely attributed to the islands of south-east Asia, but India and China were where it first began to be cultivated around 5,000 years ago.
“Ginger, along with other food plants and animals spread throughout the Indo-Pacific, carried by the Austronesian peoples as they migrated to the Indo-Pacific,” says Shahina Ghazanfar, author of Plants of the Qur’an.
Ginger became one of the first luxury goods exchanged around the world, transported across sea and land to Africa, Europe and even further afield. The early trade was dominated by Arab nations. Around 25 BCE Emperor Augustus invaded the Arabian peninsula to secure a direct supply for ancient Rome, where it was prized as an ingredient for perfumes, cosmetics and medicines.
The traditional therapeutic use of ginger persists to this day. It remains a popular home remedy for nausea, particularly during pregnancy, and is used in ayurveda to purify the blood and stimulate the heart and circulation. There is also contemporary scientific evidence that the plant can aid digestion, and reduce pain and inflammation.
Shortly after the fall of the Roman Empire in the late 5th century, Islam was born and, by the 7th century, had begun to spread across the Middle East. Arab traders once again dominated the ginger trade, making it extremely rare in western Europe.
The invasion of the Middle East during the Crusades of 1095-1291 brought Europeans back into contact with ingredients from the east. Norman soldiers, for instance, are believed to have eaten mincemeat pies with dried fruit and spices including ginger while attempting to expel the Turks from the Holy Land.
From then on, a renewed appetite for spices grew. The drive to access them went on to fuel the Age of Exploration, a period from the 15th to 17th century when Europeans, searching for a maritime route to India, found and colonised the Caribbean and the Americas.
Ginger was introduced to Jamaica in around 1525, while the island was under Spanish occupation, leading to a huge increase in supply to Europe. In 1547 alone, 2,499,900lb (1,134 tonnes) was exported to the continent.
The subsequent growth of sugar plantations, run using slave labour, from the 17th century onwards provided treacle, a cheaper sugar by-product, that could be used to make gingerbread.
“Gingerbread is probably one of the oldest sweet products,” says food historian Samantha Bilton. “It was only available to the very rich because spices were horrendously expensive.”
Jamaican ginger’s influence on our food lives on in fiery Old Jamaica ginger beer and the classic McVitie’s Jamaica ginger cake you can still see on supermarkets shelves today. By the early 19th century, gingerbread had become an accessible treat for working-class people. Ginger pudding also featured as a recipe in the early feminist magazine Women’s Signal in the 1890s.
In the 1920s, ginger started to be commercially cultivated in Nigeria, a nation that is now the second-largest producer in the world after India. An outbreak of blight in 2023 destroyed up to 95% of the crop in some areas of the country, sending prices spiralling and placing the entire industry in peril.
Still, ginger remains a staple of biscuits, cakes and desserts — think of the once-ubiquitous ginger nut, Yorkshire parkin, Eccles cakes and the more contemporary pumpkin-spice latte. I’m a big fan of lebkuchen, a small heart-shaped gingerbread cake from Germany, with a jam centre, covered with dark chocolate. Sadly, they are usually only available in the UK around Christmas.
Fortunately, no such seasonal droughts affect Asian kitchens, where ginger is an essential ingredient all year round. Biryani, tagines and phô would all be lesser things without it, and nearly half of all Chinese dishes couldn’t exist in the same way.
As much as I love it, peeling and cutting ginger has long been an annoyance of mine. I’ve never mastered the spoon method of peeling, nor am I organised enough to freeze it. I never chop it small enough, either. That’s why I’ve moved to the easier, pre-minced option in a jar.
Compared to fresh, there are some obvious flavour drawbacks and you’d have trouble making tea out of it, but it’s still fantastic. Alongside garlic and onions, a healthy spoonful forms the foundation of my standard curry base and my go-to stir fry. I’ve yet to try my hand at khitchro, but maybe this Ramadan I will.
Like many of us, I use ginger so much that it’s easy to take for granted. The next time you reach for this superstar of an ingredient, remember that it really is a heavenly gift.
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