Rachel Roddy's take on Richard Olney’s saffron and tomato rice. Photograph: Rachel Roddy/The Guardian. View image in fullscreen Rachel Roddy's take on Richard Olney’s saffron and tomato rice. Photograph: Rachel Roddy/The Guardian. A kitchen in Rome Food Rachel Roddy’s recipe for Richard Olney’s saffron and tomato rice Laborious to harvest and extortionately priced, the sunset-coloured stigmas of the saffron crocus have an extraordinarily warm, pungent taste. Fortunately, however, a little goes a very long way …
Rachel Roddy Thu 27 Aug 2026 07.00 CEST Share Prefer the Guardian on Google T he saffron crocus has six lilac-purple flowers, three yellow stamens and three orange-red stigmas that extend beyond the petals like the wiry antennae of an insect. The thread-like stigmas have to be picked only by hand when the flowers are fully open, a laborious, finickety job that hasn’t changed much since ancient times. Then, to avoid the colour and flavour fading, the stigmas need to be dried very quickly, a process that reduces their weight by about 80%. Tens of thousands of fiery-looking filaments are required to produce half a kilogram of the dried threads, which make the “hay” or powder we know as saffron and explains the exorbitant cost. Fortunately, just a few threads of this precious spice go a long way.
Native to Crete, Iran and south-west Asia, the saffron crocus has been cultivated since the dawn of civilisation for its medicinal properties, as well as for use in cosmetics, perfume, food and as a dye. According to Alan Davidson in The Oxford Companion to Food , the Moguls brought the use of saffron from Persia to India, in particular Kashmir; meanwhile, in the westward direction, the Arabs were cultivating saffron in Spain by AD960, although it was not until the 13th century that cultivation spread to Italy, France, Germany and England, particularly Essex. In his book The Last Food of England , Marwood Yeatman describes the “orderly strips of purple flowers inches apart in beds of up to 10ft wide” growing in a field outside the prosperous, half-timbered Essex wool town of Chipping Walden. “The women (‘crokers’) stooped to lift the crop on damp and dewy September mornings.” By the early 1500s, Chipping Walden had been renamed Saffron Walden.
To preserve the colour and flavour, the stigma must be dried immediately without damage. In hotter, drier countries, this was – and still is – done outside in the shade. An alternative method is to use mesh trays over charcoal, while in England kilns were used, and the resulting threads or “chives” were sold either as hay saffron or pressed between weighted boards. In a year-long project by the University of Cambridge, researchers found documents from as late as 1871 recording thefts of saffron from warehouses and druggists. But, just a few decades later, while a few individuals continued to grow saffron for their own use, commercial cultivation in Britain had ceased.
These days, growers such as David Smale , a geophysicist by training, are cultivating English saffron commercially, and it is Smale’s advice I followed this week when I made Richard Olney ’s recipe for buttered saffron rice and slivers of ripe, carefully peeled tomatoes: a delicate, delicious dish that can be served with poached chicken, fish or hard-boiled eggs.
Remember, to release their sunset colour and extraordinarily warm, pungent, slightly metallic taste and hay-like fragrance, the saffron threads need to be soaked and infused…