DECEMBER 13, 2007

from Anah Crow

Winter air swirled through Zavian's apartment. Kunal was sprawled on a chaise-lounge in front of the open balcony doors, boots up on the ugly impala hide upholstery. He was watching the night in the same way that other people watched television, staring out into it with curiousity, expression shifting slightly as he paid attention to it. Snow drifted in, caught in the black velvet draperies like stars, then melted slowly.

“Food doesn't taste right in this place,” Kunal said.

Zavian blinked and paused, halfway across the room with a vase of fresh lilies he was rescuing from the icy draft. “People taste different according to diet,” he allowed.

“Don't mean the fodder.” Kunal laughed and looked at Zavian over his shoulder. At least he was out of his layers of armor and his long black coat; the boots were always the last to go. By way of dressing, he'd dragged a black brocade robe out of somewhere and was wrapped in it, his silver hair falling loose around his shoulders. “Mean the food. I miss those little saffron cookies. The ones with the citrus.”

“You're getting old.” Zavian plunked the vase down and rolled his eyes. “Go chew on a nice wholesome police officer or something and clear your head before you start talking about walking to school in the snow uphill both ways.”

“We didn't have school.” Kunal's boots hit the floor with a crash and he stood up in a graceful motion. “Or snow. It was a brothel. And sand. The camels would spit on our heads. Both ways.” He headed for the bedroom, letting the robe slide away as he went. “I have to go meet someone. I'll be back in a few days.”

A few days gave Zavian time to hunt down something that would remind Kunal of the home that was long-since lost to history. He found someone who would make it and he opened the box to smell the scent of saffron and lemon. Perfect. On a table by Kunal's chair, the night he was due back, Zavian left a plate of the cookies and a cezve of coffee over a low flame before he went out to find something more substantial to eat.

When he returned, veins full of new blood, he knew Kunal was home. The wind from the open balcony doors whisked through and bent the flames of a few candles still burning in the dark.

“In this country, you leave out cookies at night for an old fat man with white hair,” Kunal said dryly. He was back in his ugly chair, watching the night. The plate beside him was almost empty. “If he shows up, I'm eating him.”

“Fat merchants, saffron cookies, and coffee. I wanted you to have the taste of home.” Zavian wandered close and Kunal reached out, tugging him in with one hand locked around Zavian's wrist.

“The past.” Kunal pulled Zavian into his lap, got a hand in his hair, and kissed him hard. He tasted of citrus and saffron and sweetness. “You taste like home.”
 Saffron Cookies

Whisk together:
3.25c all purpose flour
1.5t teaspoons baking powder
0.5t salt (only if your butter is unsalted)

In a blender or food processor, whirl together:
1c white sugar
2 pinches saffron strands
2T red or yellow sugar or a few drops food colouring (optional)

Beat on medium speed until light and creamy:
20T butter (=2.5 sticks) and the sugar from the above step

Add and beat until well combined:
1 large egg
1T milk
2.5t vanilla (optional)
zest of 1 lemon or orange

Stir flour slowly into butter mixture until smooth.  Put the dough in the fridge to rest 30 minutes.  Divide into managable portions and roll out to 1/4" thick on a floured surface with floured rolling pin. Chill again if dough is too soft to work with. 

Cut cookies out with cutters and set 1” apart on a greased cookie sheet or use parchment paper. Sprinkle with white sugar for extra sparkle. Bake at 375* on the middle rack. Cookies are done in 7 minutes or when golden brown on the edges. Move to a rack after 5 minutes and let cool entirely before storing in a cookie tin.

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