Saffron
It is the elegiac muse that ought to write the account of saffron, for its glory is departed. The stigmas of this autumnal crocus (crocus sativus) were once all important in European cookery, and were supposed to possess the rarest virtues and attractions. Henry Stephen said of it "Saffron should be put into all Lenten soups, Sago sauces and viands. Without saffron we could never have a good purée, good peas, nor good sauce." There was a time when England was known as merry England; and Lord Bacon in his History of Life and Death says: "The English are rendered sprightly by a liberal use of saffron in sweetmeats and broth." Saffron is now but little used anywhere in human food to please the eye, to tickle the palate, or to strengthen the stomach; and in England it has been so completely ousted by curry that what once rejoiced the heart of man is now only sprinkled in water to cheer the melancholy of canaries.
Compare the saffron with the bean. At one time it was worse than parricide to eat beans; and beans are now in great repute. At one time it was a superstition to flavour and colour food with saffron; and now it is a farce. So the wheel goes round, and high becomes low and low becomes high. Let us be thankful that one thing will last while man lasts-the saffron-coloured morn.