Saffron Rice Cake

"Why would you use four dollars worth of saffron to recycle 4o cents worth of rice?" you might ask. "Have you tried my saffron rice cake? It's fucking ridiculous." I might reply. It's crunchy, cakey, fragrant, sweet and savoury, and when you cut it open it radiates pure sunshine. The briefcase in Pulp Fiction actually contained saffron rice cake.

This recipe is loosely based on a Persian dish called tahchin. Persian purists wouldn't use leftover rice, but we're not here to conserve ancient culinary conventions, we're here to clear that fucking fridge out - so leftover rice it is.

Once you know the basics, you can muck around and add different ingredients to your rice cake. Iranians often go for a layer of chicken, braised lamb or eggplant but you could also try spiced minced meat, chopped nuts, dried fruit, wilted spinach or a combination of the above. The only essential elements are the rice, eggs, yoghurt and for me, saffron. I've added dried barberries because I had a handful in the pantry, and the sharp berries cut through the richness.

Saffron Rice Cake

~ 4-6 servings as a side dish ~

Ingredients

4 cups of cooked rice

2 large egg yolks

1/2 cup plain yoghurt

1/4 cup vegetable oil, plus 2 tbsp for oiling the baking dish

1 tsp salt

handful of barberries (optional)

1 tbsp rose water (optional)

2 tbsp caster sugar

Pinch (about 15) saffron strands

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For fuck's sake, don't snort it.

Several studies have shown that saffron is an effective anti-depressant and if you ingest enough, it actually has a powerful psychedelic effect. Saying that, the difference between the 'tripping dose' and the 'dying horribly dose' is difficult to pinpoint exactly, so probably best not to snort it. Also, you'll be walking around with bright orange saffron-stained nostrils for days - if you're not dead.

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Method

Preheat the oven to 200C, fan forced.

Grind your saffron threads to a fine powder in a mortar. Add 2 tbsp of nearly boiling water to the powder and let it steep for ten minutes - longer if you can.

If you're using barberries, put them in a pan with the caster sugar and rose water (plain old water if you don't have rose water) and gently heat until the sugar has dissolved and coated the barberries. If you're using another sweeter dried fruit like raisins or chopped apricots, you can skip this stage.

In a large bowl, whisk the yolks, yoghurt, oil, liquid saffron and salt until you have a bright yellow liquid. Tip in the rice and gently fold until combined.

Oil an oven-proof dish, preferably non-stick. I use a 24 cm pyrex (glass) dish because it allows you to check on the progress of the cake as it cooks.

Pour the mixture into the oven-proof dish and cover tightly with foil. Cook it in the preheated oven for an hour - or until the crust is reddish-gold.

To remove the rice cake from its dish, discard the foil and place a large plate (larger than the width of the dish) over the top of the dish. Hold the plate to the dish firmly and in one swift, scary manoeuvre, flip the whole contraption over so the plate is on the bottom. Lift the oven-proof dish away and the glowing crispy golden cake should be sitting on the plate. If it's not, you might need to tease it out with a spatula and a little light swearing.

You can eat slabs of saffron rice cake with a dollop of tzatziki (or the superior Persian version, maast-o-khiar) and a little salad for a lighter meal. Persians will often serve it as part of a larger meal with a khoresht (stew) or two, but we are compulsive over-feeders.