Lynn Strong

Cozy fantasy and beyond

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Tag: dessert

  • Rahat al-Hulqum Revisited

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    Back in 2023, I hadn’t had nearly as many resources for my first rahat al-hulqum post as I do in 2026. So here’s the updated version of that post, with a lot more history!

    Rahat al-Hulqum and Faludhaj

    The story that Nathaniel Webb bought for Wyngraf  was an 8,000 word version of the prologue of Chai and Charmcraft, which I’d titled “Rahat al-Hulqum” because of Ashar’s nickname for Faraj and the rose-flavored sweets that inspired the nickname. The confection behind that name is still available today, sometimes in rose flavors, other times in apricot or pistachio or more; you most likely have heard it called Turkish Delight. (Some people love it, others are disappointed after CS Lewis’ build-up in The Chronicles of Narnia. I ended up in the loving-it camp, obviously.)

    The confection called Turkish Delight and other names like lokum (Turkish) and rahat (Romanian) is often traced to a shopkeeper in the Ottoman Empire — but for centuries before that shopkeeper’s variation, people have laid claim to it under other names and areas, including the Safavid Empire in Iran and tenth century Egypt. I was enchanted to discover Salma Serry’s gastronomy blog post about her grandmother’s lemon faludhaj, which she connects to the 10th century versions via our queen of medieval Arabic food history, Nawal Nasrallah. Serry’s grandmother served her lemon faludhaj for sore throats when she was a child – just as the 10th century cookbook noted that faludhaj was good for the throat, and the name rahat al-hulqum meant “comforts the throat.”

    The historic version

    In the glossary of Annals of the Caliph’s Kitchens, around pages 596-7, Nasrallah gives the connections between faludhaj and lokum that Serry mentioned, and there’s an entire chapter of faludhaj variations (chapter 93). Since corn hadn’t arrived in Europe in the 10th century, the recipes here use wheat or rice starch instead, along with saffron, camphor, rose water, and other flavorings and colorings.

    This is the recipe she cites as particularly similar to lokum / Turkish Delight:

     A recipe for chewy faludhaj, fit for royalty (mulukiyya): Put 3 ratls (3 pounds) honey in a clean tanjir (copper cauldron with a rounded bottom) and light the fire under it. [When it comes to a boil,] skim its froth and pour on it ½ ratl (1 cup) olive oil, shayraj (sesame oil), or fresh clarified butter (samn). Let it cook on a low-heat fire until it comes to several good full boils. 

    Finely pound 1/3 ratl (5 ounces) sweet starch in a mortar and taste it lest it should be sour. Add water, rose water, and crushed camphor or musk, and knead them together. Do not let it be too thin in consistency. In fact, it will be better if it is rather thick. Add ½ dirham (1½ grams) saffron to it and stir it into the pot. 

    Keep stirring the pot from the moment you put it on the fire until you take it away from it. Do not neglect this for the secret of good faludhaj is good quality honey and starch, and constant stirring (darb). When the pudding starts to thicken, gradually feed it with more and more fat, beating all the time until fat starts to separate from the pudding and comes up. Now, start removing the fat as it comes up while you beat the pudding. Do this until faludhaj develops the desired color and thickness. Remove all the remaining separated fat and put the pot away from the fire. Ladle (and spread) the pudding on a platter, God willing. If you want to make it extremely chewy in consistency (mu’allaka shadidan jiddan), use more honey and less starch, thicken the pudding as mentioned above, and let it cook much longer. It will come out very chewy, God willing.” (Nasrallah, Annals of the Caliphs’ Kitchens, pp 383-4)

    (For comparison, the recipe after it lists “1 uskurruja (½ cup)” of starch per pound of honey, which works out to 1 ½ cups starch for 3 lb (or 1 quart) honey, if you have an easier time finding volume measures than weight measures.)

    A modern rendition and alterations

    Most modern lokum and Turkish delight recipes involve cornstarch, so I haven’t been able to try cooking them myself. But Nico’s recipe at the Yumsome blog looks delightful for those who can have cornstarch! 

    Kate Valent is an absolutely delightful author and human who’s as enthusiastic about recipes as I am, and she took this pomegranate Turkish Delight recipe and made her own coconut variation on it (along with adorable flying carpet ceramics from the Daevabad LitJoy box!)

    Low spoons: In addition to the many vendors’ versions of rose-flavored Turkish Delight that can be bought online, Aplets and Cotlets are made using pectin from fruit, some of which are vegan, and they ship. The founders were particularly looking to replicate “rahat locum” from Armenia, and you can see the language connection there!

    Vegan: I’ve made several flavors of Japanese kanten from agar seaweed; there are many variations online, often with fruit and fruit juices rather than nuts and rosewater. But agar will absolutely give you something solid enough for easy cubes that are finger-food compatible. Just One Cookbook has a vegan recipe including options for all three forms you may find kanten / agar in, and several flavor options.

    Kathleen’s cornstarch-free Turkish paste: My friend Kathleen knows that cornstarch is a no-go zone for me, which means most salesfolks’ rahat al-hulqum variations are off my menu now — as is most anything rolled in powdered sugar, which regularly includes cornstarch for anti caking. So for the holidays last year, she made me some specially cornstarch-free variations on her family’s gelatin-based Turkish paste recipe, including mulled wine, mint, and (in this case) coconut milk. She kindly gave me permission to share her recipe with you:

    Turkish Paste, coconut variant 

    (Kathleen Fuller, from a recipe by Martha Manderson) 

    The technique here is a bit different because the coconut milk needs to be heated gently to avoid splitting. I use canned coconut milk, which I believe has a higher fat content than the carton variety. Shake the can well before starting and be prepared to do some further stirring to integrate the cream layer. 

    • Soak for 10 minutes: 
      • 3 Tbsp (4 envelopes) granulated gelatin 
      • 1/2 cup coconut milk 
    • Warm to barely simmering, stirring constantly: 
      • 2 cups sugar 
      • 1/2 cup coconut milk 
    • Add together, continuing to stir until thoroughly integrated. Remove from heat. 
    • Add: 
      • 1/3 cup coconut milk 
      • 1/2 tsp coconut extract 
      • 1/2 tsp vanilla extract 
    • Pour into 8” x 8” pan. (Rinse pan in cold water first.) Cool and remove from pan. Cut in squares and roll in confectioner’s sugar. If the paste is stored in humid conditions it will get sticky; just roll it in sugar again. This should be stored in the refrigerator.

  • Kitty Game! and Puppy Chow

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    Man, it’s… it’s been A Time, hasn’t it.

    I’d gotten through a couple months with reposting already-written recipes, but I’ve actually nibbled through that backlog, so here’s a new one, and also a new novella: Kitty Game!

    If you’re subscribed to my newsletter, you’ll get a link to Kitty Game! this month along with links to three other freebies from author-friends S. E. Robertson/C. A. Moss, Christy Matheson, and Kate Valent. Because a “feel better” freebie collection for the bookish soul seems like something we could all use.

    Here’s one of the three recipes I associate with it: Puppy Chow for Humans, also called Muddy Buddies because I would bet someone confused it with actual Puppy Chow before some banquet sidebar sometime. Also, I’m pretty sure dogs and cats don’t do well with chocolate, so this version of Puppy Chow should not be fed to pets.

    But since the most commonly found recipe as originally written doesn’t work for me because of the combination of corn Chex Mix cereal and corn starch in powdered sugar, I’m taking it on a food-sensitivity-adaptable spin.

    Euli’s Adaptable Puppy Chow (For Humans!)

    The basic notion, scaled down to half the original party size my family made, so you can also double or further halve this if you want:

    • The base ingredients:
      • Half a box of cereal you’re not allergic to (you’re aiming for about 4-5 cups)
      • Low carb? Some of this won’t fit, but you could try a pound or two of almonds and/or cashews instead
      • Optional base-layer mix-ins: pistachios, dried strawberries, chopped dried dates or apricots, pretzel bites, crushed peppermint sticks… cinnamon red-hots if you’re feeling particularly spicy…
    • The meltable topping:
      • About 1/4 to 1/3 cup peanut butter (or other nut or seed butter)
      • About 1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips (or carob, or almond bark, or the meltable solid yogurt used to make yogurt covered pretzels)
      • About 2 Tbsp butter or ghee or coconut oil
      • 1/2 tsp liquid flavor-shifter of your choice (originally vanilla, but since this is me, I’m also a fan of rosewater or orange blossom water with chocolate)
    • The stickiness-lowering dry outer layer:
      • 1 to 2 cups powdered sugar, if you can handle the sugar and cornstarch
        or
      • 1 to 2 cups dried coconut or toasted sesame seeds or crushed dry cookies or some other dry substance
      • Optional dry spice mix-ins for your dry layer:
        • 1 tsp-ish powdered cocoa to make the outer layer darker and chocolatier
        • 1 tsp-ish spice blend: Pick one to two among cinnamon, chai spice, pumpkin spice, poudre douce, atraf al-tib, whatever your favorites are!
        • (Scale note: Don’t put 5-8 tsp of spices and cocoa into 1 cup of duster, your taste buds likely won’t thank you for that much extra powdered spice, not if you haven’t cooked it with the butter to take the raw edge off first… although with that said, hmm I wonder if the melted butter might take more spices if cooked together in advance of the rest of the meltables? Notes for future experimentation! Let me know if you try a tadka with this?)
    • The containment systems:
      • Double boiler or microwave safe Pyrex for melting the meltables
      • One or two gallon size plastic bags or something large, lidded, and safely shakeable for dusting the outer layer
      • Big flat surface or maybe cookie trays for spreading and cooling on

    The process:

    • Measure out your base materials (cereal and any chosen fruit/nut/pretzel mix-ins) into your shakeable bag or lidded container, with room for tossing.
    • If you’re going to flavor or color your outer stickiness-reducing dusting substance, stir the cocoa and/or spices through the powdered sugar or alternative until you’ve gotten the color and flavor level that you desire. (Keep it aside and safely dry until you’ve dealt with the meltables and the first round of tossing.)
    • Melt the chocolate-or-other chips, the peanut butter, and the butter or alternative fat together in your choice of a double boiler or a microwave in 30-second heat-and-stir bursts.
    • Once the meltables have melted, stir in your vanilla (or rosewater!)
    • Pour the melted meltables over your base materials in your shakeable, and toss or stir gently until the meltables have distributed throughout your base.
    • Get out that container of your (possibly-spiced) stickiness-reducing dry substance (powdered sugar or alternative). Sprinkle it liberally over your sticky base materials and toss or stir gently until it gets reasonable to handle. Reserve some for last-minute repairs.
    • Spread your now-dusted chow on your large flat surface or baking sheets in a flat layer so that they dry separately and won’t clump together as they cool. Look for un-dusted spots and sprinkle accordingly.
    • Store in an airtight container until eaten, possibly in the refrigerator if it’s warm out.

  • Zulabiyya for the Eldest Archivist

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    As part of my quest to make recipe post with history notes available for all the book recipes, here’s another from the Chai and Cat-tales collection.

    This one is everything from historical to modern. Zulabiyya is one of the recipes that has the “peanut butter and jelly” problem, in that everyone assumes everyone knows how to make it so they describe it as already understood. You get consistency directions in tenth-century cookbooks that assume you already know what “the texture of zulabiyya batter” is when it’s used as a reference point for some other recipe.

    Apparently the taste for sweet fried yeast-fluffy dough drenched in even more sweet stuff is pretty long-standing, too. Zulabiyya / zalabiya have direct connections with jalebi, zlabiya, mushabbak, and (probably) funnel cakes.

    In Daniel Newman’s translation of Zahr al-hadiqa fi ’l-atcima al-aniqa, the recipe for Cairene qahiriyya is described as applying zulabiyya batter over a sun-dried almond pastry ring and then deep frying the whole thing. I have dreams of someday being functional enough to try that one out. In the meantime, though, simple is helpful when cooking while disabled.

    Zulabiyya generally come in three shapes depending on the region and the chef’s tradition. Some of them are lattice-style, some are little round balls, and some of them are pillowy beignet-shaped bites of deliciousness. (The featured image here looks like it contains both the beignet-type and the funnel-cake-type variations on zulabiyya, so I was happy to find Raju Alam’s photo.)

    Old school:

    If you’d like a look at the historic version, Daniel Newman shows a video of himself making yeast-leavened and saffron-dyed zulabiyya on the Durham University YouTube channel.

    Simpler version, pillow style:

    My mother made a fast no-rise variation that’s similar to the Egyptian beignet-like fluffy pillow style, when we were young and she was busy and premade yeast dough was a time-saver:

    She’d buy ready-made yeast biscuits in a tube, snip them into quarters, and deep-fry them while simmering up the hot sugar syrup to dunk them in.

    Simpler version, lattice/funnel cake style:

    If you’d like to make your own but don’t feel confident with yeast, a box of pancake mix (mixed to a suitable consistency with water; leave aside the eggs and oil) will get you a self-rising sweet dough that responds nicely to frying. You could add almond extract, rosewater, orange blossom water, or anything else that pleases you before you cook it.

    If you feel like saffron, grind it up with a teaspoon of sugar before stirring it into the batter; it will distribute more thoroughly that way.

    For the latticed version, you’ll want to make the batter a bit thinner than for the pillow version. If you have a coconut shell handy, it provides both measurement and drizzling. (Funnels are fine too, of course!)

    For the ball or pillow version, you’ll want it a bit thicker and something like a scoop or ladle to measure dollops into the oil with.

    Once they’ve fried golden brown, fetch them out with a slotted spoon and set on wire racks or paper towels to drain until you’re ready for the sugar syrup.

    Sugar syrup:

    You can use half and half sugar and water, or you can heat up honey until it’s thin enough to drizzle.

    (A splash of rosewater and a pinch of cardamom in the syrup makes it even more delicious in my book.)

  • Book release: “Haroun and the Study of Mischief” Gets Unleashed!

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    Or at least it does if I have correctly flipped all the switches and clicked all the clickables!

    Haroun’s book is really personal for me. I share disability spectrums with both Shai Madhur and Haroun, and I have a lot of friends who share intersectional communities, so the afterstuff is longer than it was for Chai and Cat-tales, but the story itself is also well over twice as long even before I added in 50-some pages of recipes.

    I am also drowning in small business minutiae on very little sleep; please pardon typos. Yesterday (9/6 as I’m prewriting this), I tried to do the marketing grind and also port my whole mailing list to a new provider because the current one decided this was the perfect month to halve their free tier and start charging more than I earn in an average month from book sales. And my brain just would not cope. Neither would my body or my eyes. So instead of being on the laptop juggling spreadsheets and logins, I was flat on my back with my tablet two inches from my nose, gleefully chatting zucchini/courgettes with Lacrima Mundi, QuiteBrief, Matt Mason, and Steve Hugh Westenra.

    QuiteBrief and I both live in what I colloquially refer to as zucchini country, meaning the part of the world where at certain times of year you know you must lock your car, your porch, and/or your garage to prevent drive-by depositing of boxes of tomatoes and various gourds of a size that double as blunt instruments which were discovered under overgrown leaves by avid gardeners.

    I have had to deal with 20 pounds of assorted squash in an entirely too short time window, and so zucchini bread, many soups, many stir fries, and mad fusion crossover food like potato-zucchini fritters and Carmarthenshire Welsh-meets-Korean variants on stwmp have made it into my experimental recipe collection. Matt has some delicious looking Greek variations in that thread and QuiteBrief’s chocolate zucchini bread also sounds intriguing.

    We also bonded over a mutual appreciation of shiso, which features prominently in both Japanese and Korean food, and it makes a delightful substitute for mint with a delicate pink color (even when you use the green shiso variant) in sekanjabin. Unfortunately it doesn’t dry very well, but it’s essential in Japanese umeboshi pickles (at least in my opinion). Sekanjabin uses up a lot more of it than umeboshi do, though. I’ve also considered a shiso pesto sort of notion to blend shiso leaves with an olive and sesame oil blend and freeze in ice cubes for later use. (At some point I’m going to blog the medieval form of za’atar from Haroun’s bonus recipe collection, which is basically pesto made with thyme and walnuts instead of basil and pine nuts, and this is a note to future me to come back and link this in.)

    I confess the chat did not make my small business obligations any shorter but it was a joy and a relief to just talk about food nerdery because I wanted to, not to grind more social media marketing performances because I was obligated to.

    And since I have 50 pages of not-yet-blogged recipes from Haroun to choose from, here’s one of them! One of these days I really will get around to the mega-post about sharbat, sekanjabin, shrub, switchel, and various international variants on “sugar + acid + flavoring = beverage,” but in the meantime, here is a sweeter version of Najra’s Crimson Witches’ Brew.

    Grandmother’s Karkadeh for Good Boys, Good Girls, and Good Folks

    Technically karkadeh could be made as a sharbat, like the shahzada’s fragrant almond, khus, and sandalwood sharbat from Chai and Cat-tales. But Najra’s Crimson Witch’s Brew is at the other end of the scale from a sharbat even though it’s based on karkadeh. A sharbat is a sweet syrup with a particular flavor used to make drinks and sometimes dressings, karkadeh is a sweet hibiscus drink, and Najra’s Crimson Witch’s Brew is the sourest combination of hibiscus and other tart things that you’re willing to put in your mouth.

    There are folk tales that the pharaohs also drank karkadeh, but unfortunately I haven’t found any references more concrete than “everyone says”-type marketing materials. I wouldn’t be surprised if hibiscus drinks have been made and consumed for that long – I just can’t document it.

    Here are three variations based on whether you’d like to store sharbat concentrate and dilute to taste when you want to drink it or whether you’d like to make a cup at a time.

    A pitcher for a party like Haroun’s:

    • 1/4 to 1/2 cup dried hibiscus flowers
    • Up to the same amount of sugar (optional but customary)
    • 2 quarts of water
    • Optional: A lime or some lime juice
    • Optional: Some rose water and/or mint sprigs

    Simmer the hibiscus flowers and sugar together until the liquid is bright red and the sugar (if you’re using it) is dissolved, usually 5-10 minutes. (If some people in the party want sugar-free, you could also make the tisane without sugar and serve a container of simple syrup on the side for folks to use or not use as desired.)

    When the color and flavor are as strong as you like, strain the petals out of the karkadeh with a sieve or cheesecloth.

    Chill until you’re ready to serve.

    Taste when cool, because temperature makes a taste difference. You might want to adjust the tartness with lime and/or simple syrup at this point. Add any rosewater after chilling, so that the flavors won’t evaporate with the steam.

    Decorate the pitcher or glasses with mint sprigs if desired.

    (If you plan to serve it with ice, use less water in the simmering to start with, so it will be less diluted by the ice melting.)

    For sharbat concentrate to save and dilute later:

    Low spoons? Monin sells a tasty hibiscus syrup that’s likely intended for tea shops, but I drink enough chai to be my own tea shop. So if you need any encouragement to become your own tea shop too, go forth and brew with all the tasty benedictions!

    Making your own: Instead of making the sugar 1:1 with the hibiscus, you’ll want sugar 1:1 with water (or 2:1 with vinegar for some sharbats), so that you have a condensed syrup that you dilute to taste later. Unfortunately, I don’t know of a no-sugar alternative for this type of syrup.

    • Up to 3 cups sugar, separated
    • 2 cups water
    • 1/4 to 1/2 cup dried hibiscus petals (or, if you have them fresh, as many as you can wilt into the pot)
    • (Optional) Juice and zest from 1-2 limes, about 2-4 Tbsp
    • (After cooling) Rosewater and/or mint sprigs if desired

    First, simmer the hibiscus petals and any optional lime zest for 10 minutes or so, in order for the flavor and color to be extracted. Use a sieve to strain out the petals and give them a good squeeze with the back of a spoon to extract all the liquid into the simmering pot. (I recommend removing the petals before adding the sugar because of how thick the syrup will be; you’ll lose a lot of syrup if you let it cling to the petals.)

    After the petals have been removed, while the hot hibiscus tisane is still simmering, add 2 cups of sugar gradually, stirring so that the sugar dissolves. This will be a thick syrup when cooled.

    Once 2 cups of sugar are dissolved in and the liquid is clear, adjust the sweetness/tartness with the lime juice.

    You can taste test with a tablespoon of sharbat in about a quarter cup of cold water to assess whether you’d like it stronger or sharper. Don’t entirely cool the syrup until you’re sure you have the balance you want, though; you might overcorrect the tartness with the limes and need to dissolve some of that third cup of sugar in.

    When you’re satisfied with the sweet-tart balance, cool the syrup. If you like rosewater, add a splash of it now. Store in the refrigerator until ready to use.

    When serving, plan for one part syrup to three or four parts of cool water, more or less. (Again, taste testing is your friend! I use a couple tablespoons of syrup per cup of water. If you use carbonated water, you have your own karkadeh soda.)

    For a sugar-free alternative, individual servings:

    • 1-2 tsp dried hibiscus petals
    • 1-2 cups hot water
    • (Optional) Sugar-free sweetener of your choice
    • (Optional) A slice of lime or sprig of mint

    I do like hibiscus tisane without any sweetener in it as long as I don’t stack too many other bitter-makers into it. Everyone’s tastes vary, of course! You can also make a sugar-free batch at the pitcher size and offer simple syrup on the side for those who partake.

  • Cozy the Day Away and Lassi Nog

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    So, wow, it’s been a year, hasn’t it. I’m still trying not to think about 2025.

    If anyone else out there is in need of an introvert break between big holiday events, I think Karryn was pretty brilliant with the timing of the last Cozy the Day Away sale this year, which is happening tomorrow when I’m writing this (aka Dec. 29)

    In the general lull between big events? Check.

    Introverts wanting recharge time before the next round of big energy events? Check.

    Some folks with gift cards they’d like to find joy with? Check.

    Some folks in need of respite for the soul after too many sharp edged family or other encounters? Hoo boy, check.

    So yeah, if you need a bit of escape time on the 29th, check out the sale.

    I also sold another story that’s coming out next July! And I’ve got about 42,000 of what I’m guessing will be about 60,000 to 80,000 words written on the first book of the trilogy, with some wild ambition to try to finish a first draft in January. Not sure if that’s going to happen, but knock wood?

    When putting together the playlist for Shai Madhur’s mouse party with Emily Goss on Bluesky, I encountered the notion that it’s possible I’m the first person to put together the idea of egg nog and lassi? I’ve found egg nog, eggless nog, and, uh, I wish I was kidding about celery nog.

    But egg nog was hard to find this year — it looks like electing an orange fascist actually does nothing to miraculously lower the price of eggs, increase the availability of egg products, or solve the avian flu pandemic spreading among agricultural birds and cattle, go figure.

    I can still find yogurt, though. And people who are less allergic to corn than I am could have easy mode eggless nog with Bird’s custard powder. I do miss Bird’s, it was delicious when I could still eat it.

    So for folks who can handle either egged or corn-starch-having eggless nog, Ranveer Brar has a video with both varieties.

    Here’s my egg-free and corn-free lassi nog for the rest of us.

    Lassi Nog

    For each cup:

    • 1/2 to 1 cup sweet vanilla yogurt (or regular yogurt plus 2-3 drops vanilla and simple syrup to taste)
    • 1/8 tsp cinnamon
    • 1/8 tsp nutmeg
    • A few threads of saffron
    • A few drops of rum extract or brandy extract if you want familiar flavor without the alcohol
    • 1 Tbsp water (plus extra water or milk to thin the texture… or a shot of brandy if you prefer)

    Start the saffron soaking in 1 Tbsp water while preparing the rest.

    Put some yogurt in a container with spare stirring room and stir until soft and blended.

    Add in your cinnamon, nutmeg, and chosen extracts or alcohol, then stir through.

    When the saffron water has turned golden, stir it in as well. (Usually I would recommend grinding saffron into sugar for hot chai, but I’m not confident the sugar would dissolve well in cold yogurt. If anyone tries it that way, let me know.)

    At this point, assess the drinkability of your beverage and decide if you’d like it thinner (more water/milk/alcohol) or thicker (more yogurt).

    If you’re patient, refrigerate it for a few hours to let the cinnamon and nutmeg meld in.

    When ready to serve, grate a bit more nutmeg on top of the glass.

    I am not patient and it smells delicious, so I drank mine straight away. (Clearly I will need to experiment with larger batches for leftovers.)