By Nancy L. Nelson, from the February 1999 Newsletter

Food tinted with saffron is beautiful: broth shimmers golden and rice glows. But the real reason for cooking with saffron should be eyes-closed obvious—its scent.

When you lift the lid of a pot simmering with saffron, you inhale the same scent that perfumed ancient nuptial bedrooms of India, where its musky odor was an aphrodisiac; when you stir saffron-yellow rice, your kitchen takes on the ambiance of a Cuban restaurant in Miami, with its steaming arroz con pollo. All this from a few red threads of saffron.

Such kitchen magic seems appropriate for a spice that begins life tucked inside a lavender-colored, fall-blooming crocus grown in gentle climates. Its harvest is at dawn, when workers gather it into their aprons and tuck it carefully into canvas-covered baskets. The flowers are then painstakingly torn apart, revealing the powerful, valuable source of saffron: the stigma of Crocus sativus.

Thank goodness each flower's three red stigmas are potent. At $7.60 per gram (about one scant tablespoon) saffron is, by far, the most expensive spice on the Co-op shelf. Supermarkets sometimes don't even stock it because of that sticker-shock price. Most Moscow area grocery stores carry saffron but charge prices that can be double the Co-op price.

Expensive as it is, food writers will tell you that saffron isn't such a bad buy and have estimated that it comes in at fewer than 5 cents a serving. Most recipes call for a "pinch of saffron threads," which I have found results in about a dozen of those little flower stigmas (plus any broken pieces—don't lose a bit!) So maybe that's 20 or 30 cents worth of saffron, and I'd call that a cheap cuisine thrill.

Saffron has always been the most expensive of spices due to its cultivation, which requires careful handling at every step and yields so very little. Saffron sold at the Co-op comes from Spain, the largest producer of saffron exported to the U.S. Other sources include northern Greece, Kashmir, India, Morocco, China, and Italy. There is one U.S. grower located in Lancaster Co., Pennsylvania, where German immigrants have used saffron in cakes and breads for more than 200 years.

In the 16th century, saffron was widely grown and used throughout Europe, including in England where, according to a patriotic tale, a pilgrim returning from the Holy Lands brought wealth to his native soil by stealing a saffron crocus bulb and hiding it in a hollowed-out staff. This single plant led to a local industry that lasted 200 years and inspired the town name of Saffron Walden in Essex.

Because of its great cost, consumers through the centuries have guarded against paying for impure saffron. Methods of adulteration include adding weight by coating flower stigmas with oil or honey, or adding volume with cheaper flower parts, including pieces of safflower and marigold flowers.

When you buy saffron, make sure it is dry. Only dry saffron yields the most intense flavor. It should also be deep orange-red in color and made up of threads about an inch long. Keep it well-sealed and away from light and it will last several years.

To make the most of your saffron, there is one rule: always soak it in liquid before adding it to the food. Saffron is water-soluble, and for maximum flavor, needs to steep at least 20 minutes in hot water or other liquid. This is when saffron begins to cast its spell—the water will turn a vibrant red-orange, and its scent is released. Don't stir your saffron water with a wooden spoon, unless you are willing to share your flavor with the unappreciative, absorbent utensil.

The most traditional saffron dishes are based on rice, due most likely to the showy effect of bright yellow on the white rice kernels. Italian risotto, Spanish paella, and, of course, arroz con pollo all use saffron. Sweet cakes and breads, including Santa Lucia buns, used to celebrate the winter solstice in Norway, also become yellow and fragrant with the spice. Generally, saffron goes well with the flavors of tomatoes, garlic, thyme, ginger or lemon. Try it in quick breads, including poppyseed or almond.

This web site includes lots of recipes and inspiration from someone who has traveled extensively to saffron growing areas. Following is a recipe from Ellen Szita, who formerly maintained a "Contemporary Guide to an Ancient Spice" on the Web. I used canned tomatoes as a winter adaptation.

Garlicky Tomato Saffron Soup

9 cups vegetable stock
¼ teaspoon saffron
1 large leek, sliced thin
4 large garlic cloves, pressed
6 Roma tomatoes, skinned, seeded and cubed
½ teaspoon dried fennel seeds
8-10 fresh spinach leaves, sliced

Heat half a cup of the vegetable stock and add the saffron; set aside. Sauté leek in just enough vegetable stock to soften, press in the garlic and sauté another three minutes. Add the remaining ingredients, except spinach. Simmer, partially covered, 30 minutes. Add spinach and serve immediately.

My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices,
to feed in the gardens, and gather lilies.
Song of Solomon

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