Saffron Torrijas (or How to Win Someone Back)
For when you need to resuscitate love. I like torrijas for what they represent: time and transformation. Something as simple as bread, milk, and heat becomes tender when given time. This saffron-infused version isn’t about reinventing anything; it simply adds another layer of meaning. Saffron is special to me. My family has been growing it for years, just for our own use. It’s a fragile flower, short-lived, harvested at sunrise. From each bloom, only three or four threads are kept—and that’s enough. Enough to colour a broth, to scent warm milk, or to give depth to a dish. In ancient cultures, saffron was offered to the gods, used in cosmetics, believed to hold healing and seductive powers. Over the centuries, it’s been linked to pleasure, luxury, desire—in Persia, in Greece, in Cleopatra’s baths. I like to imagine her soaking in warm milk perfumed with saffron, the same way this recipe calls for bread to sit and soak and come back to life. There’s not much difference between a beauty ritual and a cooking one when the goal is to care for someone. Some recipes are made to revive things. Torrijas, like pain perdu or French toast, were created to bring dry bread back to life. A way to soften what’s become hard, to rescue what’s been left out too long. Sometimes love is like that too: It dries out, goes quiet, loses its softness. Cooking can be a way to soften it again. To care for the people we love, and maybe, to win them back.


