
I wasn't always fond of pepper, at least not as a child. My younger sister, who affectionately referred to pepper as 'hot salt,' was so enamored with it that she’d sprinkle it on cantaloupe, a fruit often served at my grandmother’s dinner table. Over time, I grew to appreciate the spicy, fermented berries—particularly white pepper, which more people should embrace and cook with.
To me, white pepper is the real 'hot salt,' but the 'hot' here is more about its subtle allure than fiery heat. While black pepper can be sharp and overpowering, it demands attention, white pepper stays in the background, quietly enhancing a dish with a mild earthy richness.
Both black and white pepper come from the same plant—the Piper nigrum. Black pepper is harvested from unripe berries, dried with the skin still intact, giving them their characteristic wrinkled, dark appearance after fermentation and processing. White pepper, on the other hand, is made from fully ripe berries, soaked and fermented before their outer layer is removed, leaving a milder, lighter berry behind.
White pepper is praised for its ability to seamlessly blend into light-colored dishes without leaving noticeable specks, but for me, it’s all about the flavor. It’s a staple in Vietnamese, Chinese, Thai, French, and Swedish cuisines, and its mild, approachable nature makes it ideal for seasoning delicate dishes like poached meats and seafood, light broths, and creamy soups and gravies. It even shines in desserts, like ice cream or crème brûlée.
If you’re not sure where to begin with this subtle spice, just use it like you would black pepper. Lately, I’ve been adding it to almost everything, while the black peppercorns in my grinder sit untouched and lonely. It’s found its way into my onion dip, lending savory, funky depth to the caramelized onions; scrambled eggs, where it mixes into the creamy curds with a warm, earthy richness; and fried chicken, because KFC taught me well. (Yes, white pepper is one of the not-so-secret 11 herbs and spices.) If it’s good enough for the Colonel, it’s good enough for me. I might even sprinkle some on cantaloupe next.
