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Musk Malabi

Malabi by Tom lahat
Malabi, a photo by Tom lahat on Flickr.
If Sahleb is the royal treat of winter, then the rosy, rubbery Malabi (see recipe below) is the queen of summer in the Middle East. Served cold in every other corner and almost every kiosk and restaurant of any caliber, this chilled milk-pudding captures the eye with the contrasting rosy-red syrup oozing all over the white, petri-plate-like to-go containers it comes in. I was never a big fan of its texture (ditto in regards to Rahat Loukum, also unjustly made with corn starch instead of better quality materials), but I adore its fragrance!

What always captures my imagination about malabi was its soft, evocatively sounding name, and its unique fragrant combination of rosewater and neroli. Rose and neroli are such noble flowers yet oh so different. Rose is open, voluptuous, sweet and feminine. Neroli is prim and proper, restrained, clean, ethereal and otherworldly. It's incredible that such a thing even grows from the earth, as has such a heavenly character.

Malabi with pom syrup by Dan Bar Dov
Malabi with pom syrup, a photo by Dan Bar Dov on Flickr.
The balance of these two strong-willed floral elements that inspired the creation of my new, limited edition for Valentine's Day 2014. Titled Musk Malabi, this perfume is a holy triad of sorts, between voluptuous, velvety and soft rose; airy, clean and cerebral neroli, and the pulsating animalic energy of musk. The musk is, in a most profound way, what makes these two oppositional flowers harmonize rather than compete with one another. It is told in the Koran that Mohammed's breath was as sweet as rose, and that he considered musk to be the purest of all perfumes. Musk grains were even mixed with the mortar in the construction of several Eastern mosques and retained their musky scent for years. The botanical musk in Musk Malabi was designed to smell as close as possible to deer musk, and most importantly, act like one: it plays cupid pulling all the strings between and drawing the lovers (rose and neroli) together. It doesn't need arrows, and plays the harp better than cupid, doing all of this work gently and with effortless fluidity. 

Malabi by shai.wininger
Malabi, a photo by shai.wininger on Flickr.

Musk Malabi is a limited edition for Valentine's Day 2014, which is just a month away from today! 
Love it, and it will love you back.

Top notes: Bitter Orange, Cardamom, Coriander, Blood Orange
Heart notes: Turkish Rose, Bulgarian Rose, Tunisian Neroli, Egyptian Orange Blossom
Base notes: Atlas Cedarwood, Botanical Musk Accord, Tahitian Vanilla

Malabi (Recipe)


Malabi by Ayala Moriel
Malabi, a photo by Ayala Moriel on Flickr.
Malabi is a Middle Eastern dessert, a milk pudding thickened by rice flour, which is usually served cold like Panna Cotta. Unfortunately, most of the malabi recipes, as well as what you'll find on street corners and even in restaurants are made with the inferior cornstarch, giving it (what I think is) an unpleasant aftertaste and a rubbery texture.

The dessert is made simply by cooking milk and starch as if to make a pudding. It is only minimally sweetened, if at all, and always must be flavoured with rosewater and orange flower water, which is the only thing that really sets it apart from the old fashioned baby-food that was served in the 1950's (when mothers were convinced that fattening a baby with modified starches is the way to prove that their kid is not malnourished). You may serve it warm; but the traditional recipe is for chilled malabi, which gives you room for many creative serving suggestions (i.e.: using moulds, fancy cups, garnishes, syrups and toppings).

This recipe is adapted from May S. Bsisu's excellent book "The Arab Table" (p. 322) and from Israeli Kitchen. Please note that malabi has many other names and spellings (i.e.: Mohalabia, Malabia, Muhallibieh, etc.). She also offers several regional variations on this dessert (for instance: whole green cardamoms and saffron strands are cooked with the pudding in Saudia Arabia), including the explanation about the Syrian and Lebanese version using rice flour instead of corn starch, which is my personal preference. Note: if you want a more gooey, jelly like consistency, use Sweet Rice flour, aka glutinous rice, which is easily obtained in Asian grocery stores. For a more wholesome variation (which is great especially if served warm) use brown rice flour. Note regarding the mastic: this resin adds to both the flavour and the texture of the dessert, making it more gooey, but also making the flavour a bit different (and it is an acquired taste). 

8 Tablespoons Rice Flour, whisk and dissolve in 1/3 cup of water.
4 tsp sugar
1 L whole milk
1 Tbs rosewater
1 Tbs orange flower water
Pinch of mastic resin (optional).

For the garnish:
Date honey (also called molasses), Pomegranate molasses, grenadine, rose syrup or rose petal jam.
Toasted, crushed, unshelled and blanched pistachios or almonds; OR fresh pomegranate seeds; OR ground cinnamon and cardamom plus crushed nuts. 

 - In a small saucepan, begin heating the milk and sugar.
- Gradually add the rice flour and water and rice mixture, and cook over medium heat and simmer, stirring continuously in order to prevent lumps from forming.
- Add the mastic, if desired. 
- Once the mixture had thickened into a custard-like consistency (in about 5 minutes), add the rosewater and orange flower water. 
- Pour into small ramekins or dessert bowls, a bring to room temperature. Cover with a plastic warp and refrigerate for 2 hours. Serve with a garnish of nuts and your favourite syrup.
- Please note: These do not invert well (like panna cotta), but will have to be eaten out of the ramekins, similarly to a custard or a Crème brûlée. 

Ancient Inspiration

Shisha, Sahleb and Rose Incense
My visit to Ancient Jerusalem on Christmas Eve was an inspiring olfactory whirlwind: thick smoke of rose incense at the Church of Holy Sepulchre filled the air with an unusual festive sweetness. In the shaded, arched under-covered narrow streets, vendors sold hot mint tea and Arab coffee and warm sahleb, sprinkled with cinnamon, coconut and crushed roasted peanuts. Under my feet, the smooth and cold cobblestones polished by millions of pilgrims over the course of well over 2,000 years and emitting a damp, dusty coolness that is unique to this particular rock. And sweet shisha smoke wanders among the narrow paths, inviting us to sit among shesh-besh (backgammon) players for a little tobacco and tea break at mid-day.

This could the beginning, or the end, of my perfume.
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