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Photo: Getty Images
Photo: Getty Images

KaiAugust 8, 2021

Growing the world’s most expensive spice in New Zealand

Photo: Getty Images
Photo: Getty Images

The laborious hand-harvesting process that makes saffron so pricey hasn’t put off some enterprising growers in Aotearoa. Olivia Sisson pays a visit to a saffron operation in Canterbury.

When rapper 2 Chainz asked this business to make pickles for his show Most Expensivest Things, they put heaps of saffron in the brine. 

Saffron is the world’s priciest spice. According to Business Insider, one kilo costs about $NZ15,000. Half-gram containers at New World set you back $10.

So what is saffron and why is it so dear? The MasterFoods packaging offers no answers.

She’s not cheap

Saffron is the red stigma of the stunning purple flower Crocus sativusEach crocus flower contains three thread-like stigmas, which must be plucked out by hand. Per Business Insider’s calculations, 150,000 flowers are required to produce one kilogram of saffron. 

The labour-intensive harvest and saffron’s many uses both factor into its cost. Saffron was likely discovered in Bronze Age Greece, but is now grown throughout Europe, Asia and even New Zealand. Adding a golden hue and imparting a subtle, almost musty hay-like flavour, it’s prized all over the world and features in dishes like Spanish paella, Moroccan couscous, Afghani pulao and Swedish saffransbröd (sweet buns). America’s Pennsylvania Dutch add it to scalloped potatoes and chicken pot pies. 

Afghan workers pluck saffron flowers on a farm in Herat, Afghanistan, in 2010 (Photo: Majid Saeedi/Getty Images)

In addition to food, there’s almost nothing saffron hasn’t been used for over the course of history. Cleopatra was known to bathe in a mixture of mare’s milk and saffron before suitors called in. Alexander The Great used it to treat his battle wounds. Minoan women made lipstick with its pigment and the Romans sprinkled it in public spaces to improve the smell for Emperor Nero.

Recent studies have shown saffron may help treat depression, inflammation and sexual dysfunction. In 2020, London burglars made off with $60,000 worth of it in a well-documented spice heist

While the vast majority of the world’s saffron comes from Iran, a handful of New Zealand growers specialise in small-quantity, high-quality product.

According to Dr Graham Strong of Wynward Estate Saffron, the crop was initially tested here by Crop and Food Research. They found it grew best in Clyde thanks to the hot summers and deep winters. Growers in similar climates sprouted up from there.

Today, saffron is grown in Otago, Wairarapa, Marlborough, Hawke’s Bay and Canterbury. A visit to one grower shed light on how rewarding – but also how demanding – saffron cultivation is.

A photo of some of the 8,000 flowers picked at Lassad Saffron this year, and Crocus sativa corms (Photo: Olivia Sisson)

Lois and Selwyn Dobbinson run Lassad Saffron on their lifestyle block outside of Ōtautahi Christchurch. 

As Selwyn says, saffron is easy to grow, but much harder to harvest and sell. 

To get a crop going you just need to plant out some Crocus sativus “corms”, which look a bit like tulip bulbs. The plants look after themselves for the most part, Selwyn says, and lots of New Zealand growers sell starter corms if you want to have a go. Although you’ll need quite a few to get any kind of quantity of the end product. 

Once you’ve planted your corms you must stay on top of the weeds and wait. 

Selwyn and Lois Dobbinson of Lassad Saffron (Photo: Supplied)

“The thing that has always amazed me about this crop is that one minute there will be nothing to see. Then one day I come back in the morning and there the purple flowers are. Just think of how complex the flower is, and it comes up in 24 hours. It’s totally impressive,” Selwyn says. “There must be a word for that magic.”

When the flowers start to pop up in late March, the fervent harvest begins. It’s painstaking work that lasts six weeks.

During harvest time, Selwyn and Lois rise early and rarely get to bed before midnight. You have to harvest the flowers first thing in the morning before they open, Selwyn says. The chemical compound that gives saffron its flavour is UV sensitive. It begins to degrade as soon as the sun’s rays hit it.

In the evenings, the duo process the flowers, removing each precious stigma by hand. From there, Lois carefully dries the saffron. Rather than chucking the flower petals away, she uses them to make some seriously effective hand/heel cream.

This year the couple picked and processed about 8,000 flowers. “Don’t drop that,” Lois laughs as Selwyn proudly shows off the harvest on a platter. 

Lassad Saffron (Photo: Olivia Sisson)

The saffron that Lassad and many other NZ producers grow is high-grade stuff, Selwyn says. Some imported (and often supermarket) products have been sprayed, or dried in the sun, meaning the spice’s full potency has been lost. Yellow stigmas, which are less flavourful, are also sometimes included to bulk up the weight.

Lois and Selwyn sell their incredible product at local Christchurch markets. If you’re outside of Christchurch and keen to try it, just flick Lois an email (lassadltd@gmail.com). She’ll post it directly.

When you get your saffron, have fun with it. Lois likes to use it in panna cotta. She’s even flavoured gin with it. As many cultures can attest to, saffron makes vibrant, aromatic and special rice dishes. But don’t go chucking it all in at once. Only a few threads are needed. 

To draw out saffron’s full power, Wendy King from Wynward Estate Saffron recommends infusing it into a bit of water and then adding that to whatever dish you’re making. 

“The infusion is the most important part – leaving it for 24 hours will give the best result, but if you’re pushed for time use an acid like yoghurt, cream or alcohol.”

Keep going!
Customers queue outside No. 1 Pancake’s Lorne St store on its last day (Photo: Jihee Junn)
Customers queue outside No. 1 Pancake’s Lorne St store on its last day (Photo: Jihee Junn)

KaiAugust 4, 2021

Auckland’s pint-sized pancake palace farewells the CBD

Customers queue outside No. 1 Pancake’s Lorne St store on its last day (Photo: Jihee Junn)
Customers queue outside No. 1 Pancake’s Lorne St store on its last day (Photo: Jihee Junn)

Last week, Auckland’s much-loved hole-in-the-wall Korean pancake store closed its doors for the last time. But even after 20 years in the business, its owners aren’t ready to call it quits just yet. 

If there was ever a doubt about No. 1 Pancake’s popularity, the hour-long queue on its final day was certainly proving a point. Shortly after the downtown hole-in-the-wall opened its doors on Friday afternoon, hundreds of orders had already started pouring in. And in the kitchen, standing elbow-to-elbow in a space no bigger than a bathroom stall, a team of five scrambled to work as quickly as they could, filling, folding, flattening and frying one pancake after another. 

It’s tough, repetitive, laborious work, but for owners SK Lim and Abigail Park, it’s been their livelihood for more than 20 years. While No.1 Pancake was first started by a family friend in 2004, Lim and Park took over the business six years later. Since then, the store has developed a cult following, popularising hotteok 호떡 – a common street food in South Korea – among Auckland’s masses. 

While the traditional filling is cinnamon and sugar, which produces a crispy outside and caramelised inside, No.1 Pancake has expanded its offering over the years to huge success: a chocolate hotteok with a sweet gooey centre, a chicken and cheese hotteok for a savoury twist, and a ham and pineapple hotteok not unlike a Hawaiian pizza. Its most successful version, however, has been the potato and cheese, which was voted one of Auckland’s iconic top 100 eats.

Hotteok on the hot plate (Photo: Jihee Junn)

But now, with the couple approaching their 60s, they’ve decided it’s time to take a step back, making the difficult decision to close down the Lorne Street store at the end of July and move to a scaled-down operation on the North Shore instead.

“We’ve always been a small family business, and they did it to make ends meet. But somehow, through a lot of luck and support from the community, it’s grown into something bigger than they ever imagined,” says David Lim who, along with his brother, Jonathan, has helped work on the business with his parents behind the scenes. 

“But it’s a really physical process for them, and they put a lot of their time and energy into it. My mum, for example, can’t even make a fist with her hands in the morning because after all these years she’s used her hands so much … [Also in 2018], my dad almost had a heart attack, so these health scares made them realise there was only so much they could do.”

However, Lim says the transition has been bittersweet. No.1 Pancake has become a cult favourite over the years with a crowd of loyal customers, many of whom had written heartwarming messages (“Always loved your pancakes, helped me get through uni on the cold days!”) for the store’s photo wall on its last day. In return, the store pledged to donate all proceeds from the day to Auckland City Mission as a gesture of gratitude for the community’s support. 

“I know there are some customers who used to come here when they were in uni and high school, and now they come along with their own kids,” says Lim. “So to see that whole transformation and to see people still remember [my parents] and are buying pancakes from them all these years later… I mean, what can you say about that?” 

Customers wrote heartwarming messages for the store’s photo wall on its last day (Photo: Jihee Junn)

The family moved to New Zealand in 1994 – first to Christchurch and then to Auckland in the early 2000s – and Lim recalls his parents (who’d previously studied law and worked as a nurse in South Korea) having various jobs over the years, from radio broadcasting to working with international students. After moving back to South Korea for a short period of time, Lim says the family eventually returned to New Zealand after a business venture his dad had pursued didn’t work out. 

“From that period to about 2010, it was a really financially unstable and difficult time for my family. My mum was receiving food donations from neighbours and friends because sometimes there just wasn’t enough to buy groceries,” says Lim. “So it was out of a period of real struggle and realising they were approaching middle age that they were asking themselves ‘what do we do? How do we make money?’”

By coincidence, No.1 Pancake came along when a friend in their church community was moving to Australia and was looking for someone to take over their hotteok business. Lim remembers how the early years were a steep learning curve for his parents who were working six days a week, often for 12 hours a day, prepping ingredients and making batch after batch of dough. 

“I remember when they first started my mum was so overwhelmed by the amount of work that went into preparing the ingredients. Once she was hunched over a huge container of chicken thighs that she had to shred for the pancakes and was literally sobbing as she was preparing them.

“So there was a lot of trial and error, and it took a long time for them to actually find their beat and get into the rhythm of things,” he says. “But they’re just one example of many examples out there of immigrants coming here [and having to adapt]. They had to come here and start from scratch.”

Five staff stood elbow to elbow filling, folding, flattening and frying (Photo: Jihee Junn)

Nowadays, No.1 Pancake is a smooth and efficient operation. But on closing day, orders were flying in faster than its tiny, narrow kitchen could handle. When I joined the queue at 1.50pm, there were signs warning customers of a wait time of anywhere between 10 minutes to more than an hour after ordering. When I finally reached the front of the queue at 2.50pm, a staff member outside asked for my phone number, noting “it could take a while” and that he’d text me when my order was ready. After heading off to the library across the street to work and watch Olympic gymnastics, I finally received a text message: “Your order will be ready in 15 minutes!”. It had just struck 6pm. 

It’s bizarre to think that people would wait four hours for some fried dough, especially when the business is only moving – not closing forever. With that said, people wait hours for food all the time, and many reckon the reward is more than worth it. Mob psychology probably has something to do with it as well: one girl I talked to in line said she’d never been to No.1 Pancake before but had seen people lining up all week and was curious to try. “I heard someone waited for two hours,” she said. I thought she was exaggerating: obviously not. 

The queue for No. 1 Pancake snaking down Wellesley St East (Photo: Jihee Junn)

But the main reason, I suspect, is to do with No. 1 Pancake’s new location. Not everyone will be willing to make the trip up to Rosedale, where its new premises are set to open later this year. After all, most of its regular customers are based in the city – office workers on their lunch breaks, uni students killing time between lectures – who gravitate to No.1 Pancake not just for the food but for the convenience. 

But Lim says Rosedale wasn’t just picked out of the blue – it’s where they currently have their main kitchen for preparing all the ingredients. Now, people will be able to order online and pick up locally, allowing the family to reduce some of their workload.

With that said, Lim adds they’re not looking to sit back and relax just yet. Instead of selling the pancakes themselves, he says they’re looking into the possibility of franchising the business, allowing others to set up shop in any location they like while the family preps the ingredients in their Rosedale kitchen.

“We’ll make the dough and the ingredients and then get people who can then make the pancakes and sell them. And behind the scenes, my parents have been trying to systematise things and make little tools for making the pancakes so that when new people come in it’s much easier for them to pick it up,” he says. “That way they can reach a wider range of customers. And because they’ll be making the ingredients they can still maintain the same quality.”

If the franchising proves successful, there’s no reason why a stall full of freshly made hotteok can’t make its way back to Auckland central and beyond. The next few weeks will see a lot of planning for the Lim family before officially reopening later this year. But after more than 20 years of relentless work, let’s hope they take a well-deserved break, too.


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