18 recipes that use rose water, with photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Jallab, takes 5 minutes. It is most often cooked with sugar, green cardamom pod and whole milk.
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Konafa (kunafa) is a celebration sweet of shredded kataifi pastry tossed in butter and baked in two layers around a filling of coconut, almonds, pistachios and mixed peel with glacé cherries. The hot pastry is drenched in cold rose-water syrup and pressed so it holds together, then cut into squares. Crisp, syrupy and nutty; serve cold with fresh cream or ice cream.
A refreshing, lighter mango lassi made with low-fat yogurt: ripe mangoes, yogurt, a little sugar and rose water are blended with water until smooth and frothy, chilled and poured over crushed ice. Perfect on a hot day or with a spicy meal.
Mouhalabieh is the pudding a Lebanese grandmother makes when guests drop by unannounced: milk set softly with cornflour and a little rice flour, perfumed with orange-blossom water and topped with chopped pistachios. It appears after Ramadan iftar meals, at Christmas in Beirut and on ordinary weeknights in Damascus, always cold and wobbling in small glasses or a shallow dish. No gelatine is used; the starch alone gives a spoonable, silky set. Chef's tip: mix the cornflour into cold milk before it meets the heat; added to hot milk it forms lumps that no amount of whisking removes.
Halawet el jibn, 'sweetness of cheese', is the pride of the pastry shops of Homs in Syria and Tripoli in Lebanon, where trays of the pale, stretchy rolls are sold for Eid, weddings and Sunday afternoons. A dough of melted cheese and semolina is stretched thin, wrapped around thick clotted cream (ashta), cut into rolls and soaked in rose syrup. The dough must be worked hot, which makes it the hardest dessert in this collection, but the result is soft, chewy and only lightly sweet. Use mozzarella or akkawi made with vegetarian (microbial) rennet; many supermarket mozzarellas are. Chef's tip: oil your hands and the worktop rather than flouring them; flour toughens the dough and dulls its shine.
During Ramadan in Beirut and Sidon, street sellers ladle jallab from big glass jars at sunset, and families keep a bottle of the dark syrup in the fridge all summer. Made from date and grape molasses with a hint of rose water, it tastes of caramel and dried fruit, and it is served over crushed ice with a spoon for the pine nuts and golden raisins floating on top. Bottled jallab gets its smoky edge from incense smoke; this home version skips that and is made straight from the two molasses. Chef's tip: soak the raisins in the drink for five minutes before serving so they plump up and sink less.
Sheer khurma means milk with dates in Persian, and in Pakistan it is the taste of Eid ul-Fitr morning: after the Eid prayer, families come home and every visitor who knocks that day is handed a small bowl. It is richer and nuttier than everyday seviyan: whole milk is boiled down until creamy, fine vermicelli fried golden in ghee goes in late, and it is loaded with soaked dried dates (chhuhare), almonds, pistachios, cashews, raisins and charoli seeds, scented with cardamom. It is served warm in the morning and thickens to a spoonable pudding when cold. The mistake most people make is adding the vermicelli too early or using too much; it keeps drinking milk as it cools and turns stodgy. Chef's tip: soak the dried dates overnight and slice them thinly; fresh soft dates melt away, but soaked chhuhare stay chewy and sweet in every spoonful.
Firni is the dessert that turns up in little clay bowls on Eid tables across Bangladesh, especially after the evening meal on Eid-ul-Fitr. It is smoother and thicker than payesh: instead of whole rice grains, coarsely ground rice is simmered in milk until it sets into a silky pudding, scented with cardamom and rose water and scattered with pistachios and almonds. It is served chilled, so it's made a day ahead. Chef's tip: grind the soaked rice to a coarse semolina-like grit, not a fine powder; that slight texture is what makes firni feel rich.
Sheer yakh, literally milk-ice, is the ice cream Kabul's street vendors once churned by hand in metal drums set in buckets of salted ice, and it's still the treat of choice on hot summer evenings and at Eid gatherings. It's dense and slightly stretchy, flavoured with cardamom and rose water and packed with chopped pistachios. Traditional sheer yakh is thickened with salep (orchid root); cornflour gives a similar body at home. Chef's tip: cook the custard until it thickly coats a spoon, then chill it overnight before freezing; a cold, aged base churns denser and smoother.
In Amritsar and on the highways across Punjab, lassi comes in a tall steel or brass glass, churned so thick a spoon nearly stands up in it, with a raft of malai (clotted cream) floating on top. It is a summer drink, but Punjabis drink it all year with a stuffed paratha breakfast or after a heavy lunch. This is the plain sweet kind, with no fruit, so the tang of good full-fat yogurt is the whole point. Chef's tip: chill the yogurt, milk and glasses beforehand; cold lassi stays thicker.
Shahi tukda, the 'royal piece', comes from the Mughal kitchens of Old Delhi, and you'll still find trays of it around Jama Masjid during Ramzan, eaten after the evening meal, and at Eid feasts. Thick slices of bread are fried in ghee until crisp and golden, dipped briefly in cardamom and saffron syrup, then covered with rabri, milk slowly reduced until thick and full of creamy flakes. The bread stays crisp at the edges and soft in the middle. It's rich, so small pieces go a long way. Chef's tip: start the rabri first and let it simmer while you fry the bread; it takes the longest and needs only an occasional stir.
Mawa jalebi, sometimes called khoya jalebi, belongs to Jabalpur and the towns of the Mahakoshal region of Madhya Pradesh, where sweet shops sell them stacked like dark brown coils. Unlike the crisp batter jalebi piped into hot oil, these are rolled from a soft khoya dough into ropes, coiled by hand and fried slowly, so they come out tender and almost fudgy inside a thin caramelised skin. They are eaten warm on winter mornings and bought by the kilo for weddings. Chef's tip: roll the ropes no thicker than a pencil; thicker coils look generous but stay doughy at the core.
Lucknow's cooks built their reputation on restraint: the Awadhi biryani is perfumed rather than fiery, with no tomato, very little chilli and whole spices that whisper instead of shout. Vegetables are cooked in spiced yogurt, layered with long-grain rice that is only three-quarters done, then sealed under a dough lid so everything finishes in its own steam, a technique the city calls dum pukht. It is the dish for Eid gatherings, wedding buffets and long Sunday lunches across Uttar Pradesh, served with a cooling raita and a sliced onion salad. The common mistake is boiling the rice fully before layering; it then turns soft and sticky under the lid instead of separating into long, distinct grains. Chef's tip: lift a grain and press it between your fingers before draining; it should break into two or three firm pieces with a white core.
Chhena gaja is the sweet pilgrims carry home from Puri in boxes from the stalls along the Bada Danda, the grand road to the Jagannath temple. Fresh chhena is kneaded with semolina, cut into rectangles, fried until golden and crisp, then soaked briefly in sugar syrup so the outside turns glassy and crunchy while the inside stays soft and grainy. It travels well and keeps for days. Chef's tip: dry the fried blocks for an hour after syruping; the sugar sets into a thin crust.
In Bahrain and Kuwait machboos is the rice dish of the home kitchen: deeper yellow than Saudi kabsa, with more turmeric, more dried lime and a last splash of rose water that perfumes the whole pot. Families cook it for the big midday meal, especially on Fridays and through Ramadan, and pile it high on a round metal tray. Here potatoes, cauliflower and peppers take the place of chicken, and the rice is crowned with hashu, soft caramelised onions with raisins and a pinch of black lime powder. Chef's tip: brown the potatoes and cauliflower before the rice goes in; their golden edges give the meaty depth the chicken usually brings.
Sweet noodles for breakfast surprise visitors, but in the UAE and Qatar balaleet is the dish of Eid mornings and lazy weekend brunches. Fine vermicelli is toasted in butter, then steamed with sugar, saffron, cardamom and rose water until soft and glossy, and finally capped with a thin, salty-edged omelette. The contrast of sweet, fragrant noodles and savoury egg is the whole point, so serve them together in one wedge. Chef's tip: toast the vermicelli until it is the colour of a biscuit; pale noodles taste flat and floury.
Khanfaroosh are an old Emirati sweet, made by grandmothers in Ras Al Khaimah and Fujairah and served with Arabic coffee when guests arrive, at weddings and during Eid. A rice-flour batter rich with eggs, saffron, cardamom and rose water is shallow-fried in small rounds that puff up, golden-brown with a lacy edge and a soft, spongy middle. They are less sweet than they look and best eaten warm from the pan. Chef's tip: let the batter rest for 30 minutes so the rice flour softens; unrested batter fries up gritty.
Pale, fragrant and nothing like espresso, qahwa is the coffee of Gulf hospitality: poured from a brass dallah into tiny handleless cups in majlis sitting rooms from Kuwait to Oman, always beside a bowl of dates. The beans are only lightly roasted, so the drink is golden-brown and herbal, dominated by cardamom with a little saffron and clove. Guests take a few sips at a time, and a small shake of the empty cup tells the host you've had enough. Chef's tip: grind the cardamom just before brewing; pre-ground cardamom has lost most of the perfume that makes qahwa.
On the Malabar coast of northern Kerala, the port town of Thalassery makes its biryani with kaima (jeerakasala), a tiny fragrant rice that stays separate and buttery instead of long and dry. Mappila Muslim families serve it at weddings, at Eid and at Friday lunches, the chicken cooked first in a green-chilli and tomato masala, then buried under ghee rice and sealed for dum. There is no red chilli powder in it; the heat comes from fresh green chillies, and the sweetness from cashews, raisins and deeply fried onions. Serve it with a sharp date-and-onion pickle or a simple raita. Chef's tip: toast the washed, drained rice in ghee until it smells nutty before the water goes in; it keeps every grain whole.
