It's roselle season in Pondicherry.
The beautiful little roselle is neither flower nor fruit, but the calyx of a wild hibiscus: the Hibiscus sabdariffa. Its origins trace back to North Africa and Australia, from where it traveled in the hands of slaves, slave-traders, traders, and other travellers first to the Caribbean and Central America–and Florida, where it was known as the “Florida cranberry”–and later to California and Hawaii.
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In Mexico, and perhaps elsewhere in Central and South America, it’s a red sorrel sourced from Jamaica, the stuff of which “agua de Flor de Jamaica” or simply “agua de Jamaica” is made. In Arabic it’s the karkady (كركديه)–of which the hibiscus tea served in North Africa is brewed. In East Africa, it’s (one assumes in parts outside of Sudan) as “Sudanese tea.” In West Africa, it’s known variously as bissap, wonjo (Gambia), zobo (Nigeria, where the white sorrel variety is known, too) To the Spanish, it is quimbombe chino. The Dutch (who came across the roselle in Suriname) called it zuring—sorrel again, but invoking zuur, or its sourness. To the French it was once the oseille rouge, though now the North African name predominates: it’s karkady in French and karkadé to the Swiss as well.
Farther Eastward, a host of other names proliferate: the roselle is belchanda to the Nepalese, tengamora to the Assamese (mwitha to the Assamese Bodo tribal communities), chukor (চুকর) in to Bengalis, gongura to Andhras, pundi to Kannadigas, ambadi to Maharashtrians, mathipuli to Keralites; it is chin baung in Burma, kra jiab daeng (กระเจี๊ยบแดง) in Thailand, som phor dee (ສົ້ມ ພໍດີ) in Laos. To the Malays it’s asam belanda (sourced from Assam, does one presume?); to the Chinese, luo shen hua (洛神花). [There might be some confusion in these names between the red and the white sorrel, Hibiscus cannabinus, whose leaves are, for example, more commonly known as “gongura” in Andhra Pradesh. Taste-wise, the difference may be marginal. Both species are fibre-yielding and cultivated in place of jute, giving them the name “Deccan hemp.”]
Were its names not variety enough, the wholly edible roselle plant is pressed still further for its medicinal values. Roselles are vitamin C-rich, and teas made from dried calyces are widely believed to have anti-hypertensive properties. (My boys eat the calyces straight from the plants, and seem to relish their tart juciness–releiving both their stresses and mine). John Feeney tells us that the roselle’s
leaves, seeds and calyces are used in Guinea as a diuretic and as a sedative. In Burma, the seeds are used as an aphrodisiac, in Taiwan as a laxative. In the Philippines the bitter root is roasted, skinned and eaten to stimulate the appetite. In Angola, the heated leaves, which produce a thick juice like Aloe vera, are used as a poultice to speed the healing of wounds. In several countries it is a folk remedy for certain cancers. Sudanese herbalists believe that karkady lowers blood pressure—and western scientists have confirmed the claim, identifying a glucoside, hibiscin, as the agent. Cairo doctors invariably prescribe drinking two glasses of karkady a day, along with other medication, for their hypertensive patients.
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In the early 1960’s, when the world awoke to the dangers of some synthetic food dyes, karkady became a popular natural coloring agent for many drinks and foods, and even for pink and red meats. These days much of the karkady used for coloring is supplied by Senegal, where the dried calyces are pressed into 80-kilogram (175-lb) balls for shipment to pharmaceutical and food manufacturers in Europe.
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A lovely thing about the roselle: it’s not to be found at your regular grocers. Fiesta in Houston always had packet-fulls of the larger flor de Jamaica, dried, but here one has to go foraging for the fresh stuff. And we didn’t have to go far before we found enough for several batches of jam, jelly, and syrup.
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We chutneyed the leaves (into what the Andhras call gongura pachadi or chutney) and added the greens (locally known by the generic term “puliccha keerai,” or sour greens, owing again to their tartness) to dals–but those are stories for other days.
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Lots of lovely Pondicherry ladies make roselle syrups in small home-based businesses–guarding their recipes and methods closely. Not being one to respect proprietary anything when the common good is involved–and for me the wild, adaptable roselle is metonym for the common good–I offer an illustrated version of the jelly recipe below. For a jam, you’ll want to follow all the same steps, except you’ll keep the calyces in rather than straining them out. They do add a lovely texture to the jam. For a syrup, you’ll just not worry about the wrinkle test, and just stop cooking when the liquid barely turns syrupy. Bottle, store refrigerated, and top up with cool water, ice or soda for a quick and easy “power” drink.
Other ideas: re-warm the jam and swirl through ice-cream. Or spread it on top of a warm cheesecake for a truly stunning contrast of color, texture, and taste.
[Click on the graphic to view higher-res, printable images]
Perfectly in sync we are – for I was going to blog about Zobo! Now when I do, I’ll have a superb reference post. I love the photos, especially the ones of the green calyxes being cut off.
I have bags of dried flour de Jamaica, purchased in Colorado, and it does make a wonderfully refreshing drink, especially when simmered with sugar and pineapple peel.
I’ll have to come someday to give that jam a try, and even the green leaf chutney.
And I was about to write you about Zobo! Which I never really came across all those years in Nigeria–is it found in all regions? The exquisite little roselle goes by so, so many names! (but always tastes exquisite). Crazy thing is, I posted all this and forgot the image of the jam itself! Just got it up via Facebook though. Looking forward to your post!
Wow! This blogpost was an amazingly “wild” journey that ended up in a craving for the jam! 😛
Yup, so I should say that forgetting — er, leaving out the image of the jam was all part of my devious design, to build the cravings and keep them wanting!!
And this added to the “craving” even more – “it’s not to be found at your regular grocers” 😐 It’s like saying, it is good, but you can’t have it 😛
I really should re-write this post and make it all about the creation of craving!
The roselles can’t be bought widely, but the jam is around: Naturellement makes it. Much as I like their projects, however, their jams are just too sweet for me. So, I’ll say, to further intensify the pain of inaccessibility, that the sugar bombs are in the stores — but the real “Power” Jam (as you called it!) is to be had only from Pâticheri’s hand! ha ha!
Deepa, just catching up on all the posts I missed.
I’ve had gongura but never the roselle syrup; another ‘look forward’ for my next trip!
This post exemplifies what I love, love, love about your blog so much – my tastebuds tingle, of course, but my brain gets fed!
Your writing is as delicious as ever 🙂
Thank you for those lovely words! And I draw similar inspiration from your writings, which feed mind and soul. Someday we’ll meet and take care of the feeding of the body part… <>
Wow this is such a unique hibiscus, the idea that it has more than one purpose for cultures all around the world is quite amazing to me. Especially how they heat the leave and use it to heal wounds. It also makes me want to try it and see how it taste haha.
A lovely post, thanks for sharing 🙂
[…] up. Thanks to Deepa, I have discovered its other character attribute – as jelly/jam and as gongura pachadi, its green leaves cooked into […]
[…] idea to make this jelly however began with my friend, Deepa of Paticheri. Earlier in the year, she’d made a version of the fresh Hibiscus calyxes. I was in awe. First […]
Dear Deepa,
I have been searching for dried calyxes of roselle for the past 3-4 years to make syrup myself. I even tried growing them, but the plants were all affected by mealy bugs.
I just read your post last evening, and went to Naturellement on KNK road to purchase the syrup. I was really very excited on having found it locally here in Chennai.
But, then my excitement turned to disappointment. I bought both the syrup and jam. Still have not tried the jam. But, the syrup looks like a watered down version of the jam. It is really very thick and very difficult to pour of the bottle. Thicker than ketchup. Also, the taste was nowhere near roselle flavour. Very very mild.
I have enquired with many sellers of roselle seeds but no one knows or is willing to provide details of where to buy calyxes. Really very frustrating.
Do you know any place where I can buy the calyxes? Thank you and warm regards,
Srinivasan
Very sorry for my tardy reply, Srinivasan, but I’m glad you left a comment. The only sellers of the calyces I know are local–in Pondy–and they’re almost only in private supply. If you like I can well harvest some seeds and send you though. They take almost no care to grow.. though you will need to have some space to let them take over! Leave another comment or email me (address is on contact page or you can send a PM via Paticheri on Facebook) if you’d like to have seeds. As for the syrup being super-thick — it doesn’t surprise me, actually. There’s usually so much sugar (used as a preservative) in fruit syrups that they can be pretty heavy to stand up to the heat and all the threats of spoilage. The solution (for me) is to make in small batches and refrigerate–thereby reducing reliance on sugar as preservative. You must have tried the jam by now? Naturellement jams are always too sweet for me, but the roselle stuff is really quite good.
I’m from Assam and I remember having delicious roselle jelly at our neighbour’s place when I was a kid. No other jam/jelly has ever been able to take its place. We use it to make tenga (the signature Assamese sour concoction of thin consistency). We have roselle plants in our kitchen garden, and I’m thinking experimenting with them when I go home. Thank you so much for this post. I wasn’t sure of its English name, let alone know that it’s wild hibiscus calyx. 🙂
Pari, sorry for my tardy reply. How do you make tenga — and you use roselles for it? Aside from jams, these are lovely for sherbat-like summer coolers, too. Thanks for the comment!
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[…] is a bit of Blarney because I knew what was near and sour and pink already: the beautiful and almost incidental wild little roselle. But I did find rhubarb (which is also sour and pink) in the “poison garden” by the […]
[…] But no, leave all that aside, this pappu is a special dal made with the first tamarind leaves of each new growing season, and every single Telugu person you meet and then anyone related to them will affirm it’s a delicacy. Nothing village bumpkin about it at all. If there’s a tree close to you, whether there are new leaves or old, chinta chiguru pappu will be mentioned, all manner of emotions evoked and legendary cooks cited and conjured. You have a tree? Well then there’s this dal you can make, and it’s a delicacy, and our mothers and grandmothers excelled at preparing it. Speaking of this dal is like cordoning off of beloved, sacred territory. It wouldn’t at all be a stretch to say that chinta chiguraaku [tender tamarind leaves] are the quintessential Telugu emotion-inducing green, far, far more than the much-touted gongura. […]
[…] pushpam, you could try other locally available edible flowers. Hibiscus or blue passion flowers, roselles might work also as they ferment beautifully but careful, as they also pack a sour punch. In other […]
[…] like gongura/puliccha keerai [Hibiscus sabdariffa, also the source of roselles] and tamarind leaves themselves–though these are treated as ingredients in their own right, […]
[…] do you do with these?” asked my lady of the mountain (true, for that is her name). Jams, I said, chutneys, salads, teas. She laughed as though she knew these would be my answers, but they […]
this is such a wonderful post. I found out about Jamaica through my co-worker at the school who would drink this impossibly maroon “tea”, heavily sweetened with sugar and iced during summers. After almost giving up on making a decent cup of tea sans the grit that always seems to find its way into the final drink, no matter how many times you strain it, I now get semi-dried roselles from a farmer in Napa.
I always thought this cannot be hibiscus. I have eaten hibiscus flowers in India and did not remember them being mouth-puckeringly sour like the flor de Jamaica. Now I know. Looking at the pictures of the fresh roselles that you posted, I thought they looked so much like Okra pods. They are indeed related.
Yes, related! But also in the ways you say, quite different. I don’t get the grit at all from our local roselles (which by the way are much smaller than Flor de Jamaica–maybe a different sub-species, maybe owing to environmental factors); I wonder why that finds its way in? I’ve done a separate post on extracting color from hibiscus. Here locally hibiscus is known as “power” (the Goddess’ color and therefore power) and the syrups sold as power syrup!
Thanks for your reply ! I suspect the grit was a feature of Jamaica sold in the latin American stores, especially the ones from the bulk section. The nooks and crannies of the shriveled flowers always had a lot of dirt; I would be frugal with repeated washings, fearing I was washing away a lot of the antioxidants and the flavor molecules. The semi-dried ones from Napa seem fresher and at least to me, seem more intact because they haven’t made the arduous journey across hundreds of miles nor have they been languishing in the bulk bins for years.
I do doctor the tisane with a tiny droplet of rose extract. To my taste buds, that adds a floral note to the unidimensional tartness but does not taste cloying or like your (my) grandmother’s talcum power.
laughing at that line about your/my grandmother’s talcum — I shall try the rose droplet next time, thanks for the idea!