From Monkeys to Wallabies: A Short History of Saffron

“The cook who is mean with his saffron is capable of seducing his grandmother.”

Norman Douglas, Venus in the Kitchen.

Years ago on television I saw a saffron grower in Wales battling to harvest her rain-soaked crop before the moisture made it impossible to remove the stigmas from her crocuses. Watching someone in Wales growing an ingredient I identified with Mediterranean cooking made me really tune in. This was almost a decade ago and it ignited my dream of turning our wind-spanked hillside on Kangaroo Island into Australia’s La Mancha - the chalky, windy, barren plains of central Spain from which  millions of crocus sativus flowers erupt each autumn to produce saffron. Surely our Mediterranean climate of Kangaroo Island was better suited to saffron than mouldy old Wales? But as with most agricultural matters, things haven’t precisely gone to plan.

Like many before me, this led to an obsessive desire to learn more about, and grow, this ancient little flower. Wild crocus sativus was first domesticated somewhere in the vicinity of Greece during the Bronze Age.  It took a clockwise journey east into Kashmir before 500BC, then into the Middle East, and on to Spain with the Arabs. It was first valued by Romans and others for its ability to dye cloth. The Romans introduced it to Britain where it disappeared with the fall of the Empire, to be re-introduced both there and in France by returning Crusaders. In England there is a great tradition of cake and bun recipes containing saffron and a vast industry existed in Essex for centuries. No volume I own notes my role in the history of saffron and its introduction to Kangaroo Island.

Before I added the final chapter in saffron’s story, I had to work out how to grow it. Extensive research revealed the flowers emerge from a corm which looks very similar to a garlic bulb.  Better news yet, I learnt the corms produce several daughter corms each year, so the size of the crop – theoretically – increases exponentially.     
  

I knew someone in Tasmania was growing saffron but my enquiries led me to uncover something about a $20,000 investment. On contacting them, they must have detected a less than enthusiastic note in my voice, as the prospectus I requested never materialised. So I went searching overseas and eventually found a supplier of crocus sativus corms in a secret destination. This subsequently involved months of phone calls to Canberra regarding import licenses, even more international phone calls, paperwork to prove the crop wasn’t disease ridden, and extensive liaison with AQIS including the establishment of our property as a “quarantine approved premises.” Whilst AQIS exists, telecommunications shareholders have little to fear.

While I was busy in Sydney sitting in traffic or waiting for a bus, Dad selected a suitable site, removed all weed matter, dug in the ground by hand, collected cow manure from the paddocks and dug this in. A particularly amateurish fence was erected around the perimeter of the plot.

Actually receiving the corms was thrilling and not long after planting, chive-like foliage sprouted through the ground. This was quickly followed by dozens of magnificent, purple flowers supporting huge, floppy, brilliant red stigmas.  We had been told to not necessarily expect flowers in the first year so our excitement levels were high - despite the fact you need about 160,000 flowers to get 1kg of dried saffron. Little wonder Bronze Age frescoes at Akrotiri on Thera (Santorini) depict monkeys gathering crocus flowers. 

Apart from having any crop at all, we were delirious with the quality. Flowers are harvested in the morning and then need to have the stigma removed, which can only be done by hand. The colourant crocin in the stigma is so intense that after only a few flowers, the plucker’s fingers resemble those of a B&H Special Filter addict.  Even when dried, our exquisite saffron threads remained much longer and a more vibrant red than any saffron I had ever bought.  The tiny harvest released the most pungent and sweet aroma when the lid was removed from their jar. I took the photo below yesterday - this is all we have left of this year's crop:

The following year produced a bigger harvest, and I imagined the glorious day I’d be floating Australia’s first saffron empire.  Instead, the crop seems to be getting smaller each year. Several heatwaves in February and March in recent years have given me cause for concern. Rabbits love to eat corms, but there are no rabbits on Kangaroo Island. Bandicoots? Echidnas? Who knows. If it’s wallabies we’ve got a major problem as they are more common than rats - and they no longer stand still in preparation to be bludgeoned as they were in Captain Flinders’ day.

When we have been able to hit elusive “commercial” quantities, the meagre excess has been sold to the luxurious Southern Ocean lodge at the other end of Kangaroo Island. I forecast they will have exclusivity over the crop for at least the short term.

And so the dream rolls on. This year we plan to sift out the best corms, relocate the growing site and start again. In the meantime we’ve got just enough for personal use. Before cooking, the threads must be re-hydrated to release their flavour properties. They will also expand to their original size. Boiling water can be used to infuse saffron, as can white wine, white spirits and citrus juice. The shots below show a large pinch of saffron swelling and releasing colour into a couple of tablespoons of white wine over two hours in preparation for the recipe which follows.

While I wait for something to hopefully crack through the ground next Autumn, I've got just enough of our own Kangaroo Island Saffron to at least make a few decent recipes. With the assistance of my new wizz-bang camera, I'll be posting more in due course.

Saffron Pastini in Brodo

This recipe is adapted from one which appeared in the 2006 Gourmet Traveller Annual Cookbook.

Serves 2

1 cup of small soup pasta

1 teaspoon of saffron, approx 20-30 filaments

3 tablespoons of white wine

3 peeled whole garlic cloves

2 spring onions, white part finely sliced

4 cups of chicken stock

1 tablespoon torn Italian parsley

1 Soak saffron in the white wine for 1-2 hours in a cup covered with cling film

2 Put pasta, garlic, spring onions, and stock in a saucepan. Then pour in the saffron infusion and swirl to combine. Bring to boil over medium heat and simmer until pasta is cooked al dente. Check seasoning, and add half the parsley.

3 Serve with grated parmesan or pecorino and garnish with remaining parsley.