Saffron is one of those ingredients everyone has heard of, many people own, and rather fewer know what to do with.

Do I grind it? Brew it? Throw the threads straight into the pot and hope for the best? What should it actually taste like? And—perhaps the most important question—how do I know I haven’t paid a small fortune for dyed plant matter?

On 11 September at 6pm, I’ll be at Divertimenti in Knightsbridge, London, for an evening devoted to all things saffron. And I’ll be in extremely good company.

I’ll be cooking with Laila of Attar Apothecary, the brand behind the most exquisite saffron I have tasted in my life. Attar Apothecary works directly with Iranian farmers to source its organically grown, single-origin saffron using fair-trade practices and traditional farming methods. It is the kind of saffron that completely recalibrates your understanding of what this spice can taste and smell like: deep, floral, earthy, honeyed and gloriously complex—not merely “the thing that makes rice yellow.”

The saffron we’ll be using is Sargol, made entirely from the vivid red tips of the stigma, with none of the yellow style attached. Sargol and Negin are among the most prized Iranian commercial cuts. Negin usually consists of longer, intact red stigmas, while Sargol contains shorter or broken all-red tips and is particularly valued for its concentrated colour and flavour.

You will often see Iranian saffron divided into five commercial types—Negin, Sargol, Pushal, Dasteh and Konj—depending on which part of the stigma and style is included and how it has been trimmed. These aren’t five botanical varieties of the plant, but market classifications of the finished spice. The international ISO standard assesses saffron separately according to measurable characteristics including its colouring strength, aroma and bitterness.

For something so precious, saffron is surprisingly misunderstood. In both Laila’s world and mine, we are constantly asked how to use it—and what it is actually supposed to taste like.

Although saffron is woven deeply into cuisines including Iranian food, it is far from being a one-cuisine spice. Somehow, those delicate crimson threads have travelled all the way into Swedish baking, where they appear in lussekatter: golden, S-shaped saffron buns traditionally eaten during Advent and for the feast of Saint Lucia. A Persian spice thriving in a Swedish winter bun? Exactly the sort of culinary plot twist I love.

Above: Saffron had travelled to Sweden through Europe’s medieval spice trade, but it wasn’t added to the buns we now call lussekatter until the late nineteenth century. Their brilliant golden colour made them a natural companion to Saint Lucia’s celebration of light during the darkest part of the Swedish winter. Image from Idun.no

Personally, I use saffron in sweet dishes, savoury dishes and almost everything in between. I’ve paired it with cauliflower in a saffron-cardamom coconut sauce; with courgettes, walnuts and tomato; with mushrooms and black lime; and in a similar combination with tofu. It has also found its way into rose, chocolate and saffron desserts—which is a trio I would happily build an entire personality around.

At Divertimenti, Laila and I will show you six different ways to usehttps://www.divertimenti.co.uk/products/the-secrets-of-saffron-demonstration?variant=57589911388544 saffron, while answering the questions we hear again and again:

How can you distinguish good saffron from fake or adulterated saffron? How should you brew it properly? When should it go into a dish? How do you preserve its aroma instead of cooking it into complete oblivion? And how can you draw out every last bit of flavour without wasting a spice this precious?

Saffron fraud is not a small concern. Because genuine saffron is so valuable and labour-intensive to produce, it is frequently adulterated with cheaper plant materials such as safflower, calendula or turmeric; with dyed fibres; or even with old, exhausted saffron that has been recoloured. This is one of the reasons provenance—and knowing the people behind your saffron—matters so much.

Photographs of closely resembling samples as visualized by a naked eye: Genuine saffron (a) saffron in filaments (Laccha), (b) saffron in cut filaments (Mongra); fake samples, (c ) unknown look-alike, (d) unknown look-alike, (e) neon yellow dyed corn silk, (f) maroon red dyed corn silk, (g) unknown look-alike, (h) saffron stamen, and (i) paper strips. Source: Frontiers in Plant Science.

We will also be challenging the habit of simply tossing whole threads into a dish. Laila and I are united on this: those threads have worked far too hard to end their lives floating around under-extracted in a saucepan.

The best part? You’ll get to taste everything we prepare. You’ll leave with a proper understanding of this extraordinary spice, practical ways to use it at home and—if we have done our jobs correctly—a great deal of excitement about cooking with it.

Come food curious. Come hungry. Come ready to rethink saffron.

Get your tickets HERE for Secrets of Saffron
11 September, 6pm
Divertimenti, Knightsbridge, London