SpiceLines

Besides being bloodthirsty fighters, the Assyrians were also bookkeepers who kept meticulous records, notably on clay cuneiform tablets. Bottero cites an ancient stele inscribed with a stupendous list of foods for Assurnasirpal’s feast. There were whole herds of livestock--“1,000 barley-fed oxen, 1,000 young cattle…14,000 common sheep…”, plus “1,000 lambs, 500 deer, 500 gazelles…10,000 pigeons.” Everything was flavored by cartloads of garnishes, condiments and spices—including cumin, aniseed and “mock pepper”—and 100 roses.

Did the party-goers actually ingest the roses? Or were they for ostentatious display? We’ll never know: the stele didn’t record recipes, just ingredients.

But the Assyrian city of Kalku, now known as Nimrud, is just north of modern Baghdad and the use of roses—and rosewater---in Iraq and other parts of the Middle East is an ancient tradition that lives to the present day.

In Delights from the Garden of Eden, Nawal Nasrallah, a former professor of English literature who fled Sadam Hussein’s brutal regime in 1990, offers reams of recipes for Iraqui sweets, many of which are descended from ancient and medieval dishes. A fair number of these desserts are scented with rosewater: prunes stuffed with walnuts, simmered in a honey syrup; almond pastries with pistachio filling; golden saffron-flavored fritters; spicy pumpkin cake; glazed éclairs with creamy filling; sugar cookies; ice creams, sherbets and ices; cold drinks made of cantaloupe and beets, to name just a few.

According to Nasrallah, rosewater, made from Damask roses, was one of the earliest distilled liquids. By the Middle Ages, it was an important ingredient of both sweet and savory dishes. Um al-Faraj, a perfumed precursor of the modern Moroccan pastilla, began with chicken cooked with cinnamon and pepper; the meat was layered in a clay pot with paper thin sheets of dough. Both the chicken and the pastry were brushed or dribbled with rosewater in which saffron (for the chicken) or musk and camphor (for the pastry) had been dissolved; when the pot was filled to the brim, “the surface [was] dusted with plenty of sugar and sprinkled with oil and rose water.”

For most Western diners, sugary chicken pot pie flavored with rose essence would be an acquired taste. But one of the simplest Mesopotamian recipes, Mahallabi al-Timman, or rice pudding with rose water and cardamom, would make a beautiful, slightly exotic dessert for an early spring dinner. Nasrallah describes it as “simple and basic…comfort food, nourishing, delightfully scented.”

Naturally, everyone has recipe for rice pudding. There’s one in The Art of Persian Cookery, written half a century ago by Forough Hekmat, a former professor at the University of Teheran. Born into a wealthy family in Shiraz—she and her sister each received half a village as a wedding gift—Hekmat vividly recalls the wondrous feasts and foods of her childhood—including a simple rice pudding scented with rose and cardamom. According to legend, she says, shir berenj was originally the "food of the angels, first made in heaven": “When the prophet Muhammed first ascended to the seventh floor of Heaven to meet God, he was served this dish.”

Food of the angels? Made in heaven? That was enough for me. I went into overdrive earlier this week, spending most of day churning out rice puddings. The kitchen filled up with the sultry fragrance of rosewater and I confess to more than one deep inhalation straight from the bottle. By mid afternoon, I was feeling giddy, possibly even euphoric.

Hekmat’s and Nasrallah’s methods for making rice pudding are different, as is the rice they use. Now living in Boston, Nasrallah recommends jasmine rice soaked and rubbed between the fingers until the grains break. Hekmat, on the other hand, urges us to seek out hard, yellowish, two-year-old Persian rice with unbroken grains. In the end I used organic white basmati out of the bin at Whole Foods. And really the most delicious pudding was the one our Columbian housekeeper, Ruby Ortiz, used to make for our children when they were babies.

Ruby shortened the cooking time by soaking the rice in boiling water. She then slowly simmered it in milk until the liquid was absorbed and the large, slightly chewy grains had become soft and creamy. Instead of flavoring the pudding with cinammon sticks, I simmered the milk with crushed cardamom pods, then stirred in freshly ground cardamom and two big spoonfuls of rosewater at the end.

The result is a luscious pudding which you can eat warm or cold, though I like it best at cool room temperature. The pungent green aroma of the cardamom is softened by the sumptuous fragrance of the rosewater—just slightly sweet, this is truly food for the angels.

But watch out: A 13th century Andalusian cookbook warns that too much rosewater will turn your hair white. I suspect this was written to keep cooks from using too much—or perhaps, to keep them from splashing it all over themselves in a kind of fragrant delirium leading to demonic possession.

Still, it’s important to know that all rosewaters are not created equal. If you are in Paris, do not walk but run to the Marais spice shop, Goumanyat et Son Royaume, and scoop up as many bottles of Persian rosewater as you can carry. This intoxicating essence is distilled in Iran by the same people who have been making floral water since medieval times.

Naturally you cannot buy Persian rosewater in the U.S., but a decent substitute is Mymoune, pure eau de rose from Lebanon, available at Middle Eastern grocers and some gourmet shops. It is light and aromatic, neither strong nor spicy, and it holds its aroma in baking and cooking.

Whatever rosewater you use, add it very slowly, one teaspoon at a time, to the rice pudding. Stir and taste after each addition. Too much and you will wind up eating flowers. Lovely for the angels—but not for mere mortals.

Deliriously Delicious Rice Pudding Scented with Rosewater and Cardamom

Makes 4 servings

Ingredients:

1 cup basmati rice
4 cups boiling water
8 green cardamom pods
4 cups whole milk
Pinch of salt
¼ cup white sugar
Up to 2 tablespoons rosewater, or to taste (See note)
½ teaspoon freshly ground cardamom seeds (optional)
2 tablespoons heavy cream (optional)
Organic rose petals for garnish (optional)

Method:

1. Rinse the rice in several changes of water. Place it in a bowl and cover with 4 cups boiling water. Soak for 20 minutes.
2. While the rice is soaking, put the cardamom pods in a muslin spice bag (or tie them up in a small square of cheesecloth) and gently crush them with a mallet or the flat side of your chef’s knife. Put the 4 cups of milk in a medium pot, add the spice bag, and bring the milk to a slow simmer over low heat.
3. Drain the rice in a colander and add to the milk mixture along with a pinch of salt. Simmer over a very low flame for 30 to 40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the milk has been absorbed and the rice is soft and chewy, but cooked all the way through. Discard the spice bag.
4. Stir in the sugar and taste. The flavor of the infused cardamom may be quite subtle, so add a little more ground cardamom if desired.
5. Now for the rosewater: add a teaspoon at a time, stirring well and tasting after each spoonful. The quantity you add will be determined by the quality of rosewater you are using—if it is very strong, a few drops may be enough. Stop when the flavor of the rosewater is distinct, but not so strong that the pudding tastes flowery. Add heavy cream if desired.
6. This pudding is best served warm or at cool room temperature. Taste before serving and adjust the seasonings if necessary. Scatter with organic, unsprayed rose petals, if desired.
Note: Mymoune Eau de Rose, is a light, delicate rosewater that holds its flavor in cooking. It is available from kalustyans.com.