Contest Time

Too many things to jungle left me with no ready post today. But since autumn is approaching so fast paced, I had an idea for a little contest: Write a short paragraph about what autumn means to you in terms of smells, what is your favourite aroma to signal the coming of autumn and why it resonates with you and the best one (judged by me) will win a good bag of several upscale samples including Divine, Lutens, Amouage, Neil Morris, etc. etc.
Submissions valid till Sunday midnigh.
Good luck!

The clip comes from the 2004 Greek film "Weeping Meadow" (Το λιβάδι που δακρύζει) by Theo Aggelopoulos, for me the quintessential autumnal director. Music by Eleni Karaindrou.

Eggplant: Colour and Aroma of the Season

Eggplants (or aubergines as they're also known in the UK, the word derived from from the Arabic al-baðinjān) are a summer delight at the farmer's market and in my kitchen: Their varied colours and shapes (long and more rounded, in an endless spectrum) are sorely tempting, almost pleading with me to buy a few of each as I pass through the open-air market stalls with my basket in hand. One variety's really dark purplish colour almost resembles the shade of my hair in the sun and had thus always attracted me.
The exotic genus of Solanum melongena, part of the Nightshade family with its dangerous reputation, bears something of the dark attraction of India and Pakistan where the plant originates from; and also some distant relation to other solaceae plants such as the tomato and the potato. The little seeds inside the eggplant fruit, containing nicotinoid alcaloids (related to tobacco) burst forth with a bracing bitterness which is testament to the power of the human mind to find beauty in difficulty and hinder. Now that eggplants are still sticking around a little while longer, before the first frost makes them only available through the hothouse (not my choice if I can possibly avoid it!) this post is trying to capture the last rays of sun on their glistening, slick backs and bid them farewell till next spring.

The earthy, tangy and bittersweet aroma of eggplant had been my initiation rite from childhood onwards to the mystique of "grown up food" and its acquired taste delights. Luckily for myself my father loved his "meat and potatoes" meals which ~quite contrarily, as any church boy can tell you their family is probably atheist~ had the amiable effect of making me love just about anything apart from meat and potatoes from a very early age. Mother was bragging at elementary school meetings how I consumed my vegetables and legumes not only with tolerance, but actual glee! Aubergines especially were among my very favourite, an unusual trait for a child, as the vegetable is bitter by its nature. But my mother was savvy to exquisite kitchen arcana that involved little tips to be divulged at a later date: One of them is she used to salt them meticulously before broiling on the stove making the roasting aroma of eggplant one of the most beloved and nostalgic pangs I can feel in my heart of hearts even now. The whole house was aromatized by it and coming back from school I knew there was melitzanosalata on the table (aubergine paste, basically, although "salata" means salad in Greek); it's still one of my favourite goes-with-everything accompaniments on the table (Just try to resist spreading on roasted fresh bread and then we can talk). She used the pulp of the roasted eggplant scooped out with a spoon to prepare it, some crumbled feta cheese (the salty flavour again rounding off the bitterness admirably), a couple of teaspoons of extra virgin olive oil and a little finely chopped fresh garlic and blended them in a hand mixer. It was utterly delicious!

We also used to mix the roasted pulp with fresh Greek yoghurt, the paste/dip becoming a bit blander, for when there was another spirited, fiesty dish on the table and we didn't want them to antagonise; or prepared melanzana alla parmigiana and the French classic ratatouille niçoise for when we were hungrier. My grandmothers customarily prepared a main course with aubergines originating in the Near East: Either Imam bayildi (a Turkish dish literally meaning "the imam fainted", infered by pleasure of course, in which eggplants are roasted in the over, cut in half in olive oil, covered with lots of chopped onion, chopped garlic and tomato slices on top until they sweeten) or the classic moussaka with its sautéed eggplant and tomato-sauce-minced-meat layers under the thick, golden crisp béchamel sauce . I make Sicilian involtini myself nowadays. But la crème de la crème of aubergine dishes in my opinion is the Levantine baba ghanoush (بابا غنوج bābā ġanūj), a similar to melitzanosalata paste of light brown shade with so dense a smoky aroma that it is as much hypnotizing to the senses as the sound of a flute is to a cobra. I certainly can't put the spoon down!

According to the Arabs, who first brought eggplant to the West during the early Middle Ages and indirectly gave it its botanical name, "If your future wife can't prepare aubergine 50 different ways, reconsider marrying". (The info comes from Janna Gur's Book of New Israeli Food which is excellent) In Morocco and Lebanon, people eat them fried up along with hummus made from chickpeas and tahini, spreading on small pieces of pita bread. I very much liked this version and am recommending it to you as well.

Recipe for Fried Eggplants with Hummus

You will need four-five purple eggplants, preferably the long, slender variety with white and purple stripes. Also olive oil for frying and all-purpose-flour, a little salt and pepper and 1 cup of soda water for battering. It takes about 20 minutes to prepare and makes enough quantity for 3-4 people as a side-dish.

1.Put the olive oil in a pan, it should be about two fingers deep and bring it to a frying temperature. (Test it for readiness by sticking a piece of the vegetable in it, if it sizzles, it's ready. You want it to be really, really hot so the eggplants don't absorb too much oil but form a crust immediately)
2.In the meantime peel the eggplants taking care to leave a thin stripe of the peel every inch or so and cut them to pieces: I prefer to slice them or cut them in small cubes about an inch thick.
3.Mix a cup of all-purpose flour, a pinch of salt and a pinch of pepper and a cup of soda water in a deep plate and lightly cover the pieces/slices of the eggplant.
4.Fry them until they turn dark golden, they should be a little crispy but not darken too much. They tend to absord a lot of oil, so drain them on a plate lined with kitchen paper for a while.
5.Salt them some more and serve hot with hummus sprinkled with roasted pine-nuts and some pita bread to bring out all the humble, earthy elements nicely.
If you don't have a reputable Middle-Eastern deli in your area or have the inclination to make hummus from scratch, here is an easy and quite decent recipe.

As an epilogue, no matter how utterly lovely and intriguing I find the smoky aroma of roasted eggplant, I have been searching for it to no avail in some form of a scented product (Have you been successful? I need the feedback, if you have). Perfumers might not have succumbed to its charms yet, nor have home fragrance producing companies, probably because they think that its peculiar scent is not attuned to the sensibilities of western societies who associate smoky with campfires or electrical wire troubles and not indoor fun activities. Still, I am throwing the idea on the table and hoping that the tanginess and earthiness of this dark, slick beauty will find imitators soon.

Pic of eggplants via elements4health.com, pic of frying eggplant by Elena Vosnaki

Perfume Ingredient: Salicylates ~Smell, Role and Function

Savouring Vanille Galante by Hermès now that the weather is getting cooler again, I am struck by its "solar" effect, a warming, "open", bright effect that is rendered through the use of salicylates: benzyl salicylate, cis 3 hexenyl salicylate, and iso amyl salicylate. To the perfume student these molecules present fascinating facets on the path of creation because salicylates encompass complimentary aspects and aid diffusion, making fragrances open up and "expand" in a sunny, exhilarating way. Gardenia, tiaré, and frangipani accords are usually built on salicylates and their summery vibe warms our heart even in winter. In this article we're going to occupy ourselves with the ones which are most often used in fine fragrances.

Benzyl Salicylate (benzyl ortho hydroxy benzoate) is an almost colourless liquid that has a mild balsamic, sweetly floral note possessing excellent blending capabilities. Often used ~like foundation is for make-up~ as a base for heavy florals such as ylang, gardenia, jasmine, lily etc. It is also used in functional products such as soap, shampoo and fabric softener. Along with Methyl Salicylate, salicylates “turn the most banal floral composition into a real perfume, with majestic weight and sweep” divulges Luca Turin. However some people are anosmic to it, including some perfumers. Guy Robert could not smell benzyl salicylate at all, but could instantly recognize its presence in perfume: “I recognize it as if it were a friend seen from behind in a crowd, by the cut of his shoulders”. Indeed in the words of nose Bernand Chant “it produces a diffusing, blooming effect very pleasing to the public”. Many orchid fragrances are built on salicylates, while the mysterious emerald glow of the vintage Je Reviens is also due to them. Coupled with eugenol and isoeugenol, the effect becomes almost carnation-like with its clove tint. The magic of benzyl salicylate can be best experienced in the archetypal floral bouquet of L’air du Temps featuring an overdose of the ingredient. Its progeny included Wind Song, Norell, Estée, Charlie, even Angel! However the recent restrictions on the use of benzyl salicylates have taken their toll on many floral fragrances, L’air du Temps included, which simply do not smell as they used to.

Methyl salicylate (salicylic acid methyl ester or oil of wintergreen ~because it is present in lots of evergreens such as birch and also rhododendrons~ and commonly featured in arthritis and muscle body rubs but also in Life Savers) has a green glow with camporeous aspects. Naturally occuring in tuberose, jasmine and hyacinth absolutes, as well as ylang ylang and neroli oil, it provides that characteristic eucalyptus-mint nuance of Tubéreuse Criminelle and to a lesser degree Carnal Flower. It is also a big ingredient in birch tar, used in Russia in treating leather and therefore associated with Cuir-de-Russie-themed fragrances, modernly interpreted in Dzing! and Bulgari Black. Also present in cassie absolute, so it seems to be the bridge between those and Une Fleur de Cassie; the connection being that acacia bark (the inspiration behind the latter) was also used in treating leather, in France.

Amyl salicylate (pentyl ortho hydroxy benzoate) is a colourless liquid related to coumarin olfactorily, frequently used to round off a composition and fix fine fragrance (floral or non-floral) even though not a constituent of volatile oils. The molecule is also referenced as orchidee, trefle or trefol due to its orchid-like lightly sweet floral and herbaceous-green aroma and its inclusion in L.T. Piver's 1898 mythical Le Trèfle Incarnat. A tiaré accord built on amyl salicilate is used in the Dior Bronze range to impart the lightly powdery floral nuance which serves as a reminder of beloved products of sunbathing (see below). Chances are you've smelled amyl salicylate in your favourite shampoo, deo, hair spray or fabric softener too as it is so prevalent in those products or used it in your anti-rheumatism prescription.

Ylang ylang (cananga odorata), a very frequent floral essence in perfumery and a constituent in Vanille Galante which prompted these syllogisms in the first place, naturally encompasses salicylates and eugenol (a spicy ingredient); the former in the form of benzyl salicylate is the basic ingredient in the Ambre Solaire suntan lotion, with its white flowers tinge, which is synonymous with summer vacations to many Europeans (The ingredient first entered the composition for its sunscreening properties and later overstayed thanks to the fond reactions of users to its smell). Even the humble aspirin is a product of salicylates. The magic of salicylates is that they creep up on you from the most unlikely places!

Ref: E. Gildemeister, The Volatile Oils

Pic via edwan.blogspot.com, Ambre Solaire ad via mtblog.self.com

Enrique Iglesias for Azzaro Homme: new face, new campaign

Azzaro pour Homme, the fougere classic from 1978 is gaining a new spin, that of the seducteur (a womaniser), in the face of Enrique Iglesias (full name Enrique Miguel Iglesias Preysler).

The son of Spanish legend Julio Iglesias is a singing star in his own right: Recognised at numerous awards (including Grammys, American Music Awards and the 2008 NRJ Music Award for Best International Masculine Artist) the top-selling Spanish-speaking singer worldwide according to data as of this minute, Enrique is successful, handsome and the "exotic" yet approachable type that would have consumers sit up and take notice. Enrique Inglesias's own track record is impressive with liaisons with Sofia Vergara, Christina Aguilera, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Shannon Elizabeth, Samantha Torres, and the ex Miss Universe Alicia Machado.

The press release is quite clear-cut into what they are aiming at: "It takes a certain kind of man to personify the distinctive style of this iconic fragrance: the eternal charmer, a man who loves and respects women. The proverbial "tall, dark and handsome"… good looks, unmistakable, innate sensuality, a magnetic personality and energy… "

Enrique is all that and we're elated he isn't lending his pretty mug for a celebrity scent now. His previous take on celebrity endorsement included a stint for Tommy Hilfiger's True Star (Refresh your memory with this). Under the auspices of Michel Mallard, Artistic Director of the new Azzaro pour Homme campaign, and with Steven Klein behind the lens at the Pier 59 Studios in NYC, the fragrance which was previously positioned as the professional type of the 80s overachiever is coming into a new image.

The new campaign for Azzaro pour Homme is set to roll this coming October and looks like it will entice a younger wave of wannabe "Latin lovers" into trying this woody classic. Good job, Azzaro team!

Cacharel Scarlett: fragrance review

It is with a sense of disillusionment that I encountered Scarlett by Cacharel while perusing the aisles of Sephora in search of a gift. The brand has something of νόστος, of L'Éternel Retour for me: Anais Anais with its funeral parlour lillies (no offence inferred) always attracted me with its subtle autumnal romanticism which so contrasted with our innocence of the times; Loulou has been a sweet memory of long-ago, a shadowed Lolitesque reprise of L'Heure Bleue behind the parapet of a circus (and it still has devoted fans); Cacharel pour Homme was rampant in school, even though it probably didn't merit quite such a popularity; Eden and Eau d'Eden had the merit of being completely individual in their own little way (a wet wools fruity-oriental and a watermelon ozonic that didn't hiss at you, respectively); Noa is a pretty white musk with a powdery little whiff that can be an office-friendly scent that's not completely trite thanks to a hint of coffee; and Gloria was ~before its unexplained discontinuation~ a pipe-tobacco dream on the lips of a modern young coquette posing at some night-club wearing a pailleté top and licking Amaretto off her lips.
Then they started producing über-sweet fruity stuff that was mediocre at best: Amor Amor, Promesse and Liberté seemed like efforts to tune in the craziness of everybody else issuing fruity florals with intense sweetness on a bed of cleaned-up patchouli, no doubt hot on the heels of Coco Mademoiselle's commercial success: efforts with results hard to deferentiate between and ultimately forgettable. Along with a pleiad of flankers that didn't shine any too brightly in the galaxy...

Scarlett goes even lower, reminding me of a deodorant mist or a shampoo more than a perfume and it really pains me to say so. Composed by such experienced and talented perfumers such as Honorine Blanc, Olivier Cresp and Alberto Morillas, it's probably a testament to the rush of companies to issue new things at a breakneck speed giving them about a week to come up with something. Or alludes to the desire to adress a pre-nubile audience raised on Japanese-style erasers and soapy non-perfumey "perfume" on their mothers: If you're brought up on Amazing Grace, anything more smelly than a bar of soap just might trip you into sensory overload. "Soapy" isn't necessarily bad, if done right: Great aldehydics of yore as well as modern musky florals prove it can be pleasant and even refined. The wrong kind however can tilt the scales into floor cleaner, deodorant cream and the laundry cupboard.

Scarlett starts on fresh pears that hint at the lightly gourmand and innocent opening of Petit Chérie by Annick Goutal and continues on girly transparent (and completely artificial, detergent-style) flowers, while vaguely being reminiscent of Juicy Couture overall only less polished. It completely belies both its wonderful flacon ~designed by Christophe Pillet~ and its fiesty name that would allude to passion and sensuality (this is neither O'Hara, nor Johansson). And just because someone had it phrased so very wittingly I am borrowing their words for once and quoting: "If Scarlett had worn this, she could have stopped the war all by herself. The yankees would have suffocated on their approach to Atlanta, and Rhett Butler would have donned a bonnet and crinoline and danced with Ashley Wilkes rather than endure our whiffy heroine".

But its invitation is so short-lived that a testing spree shouldn't leave you with too much to wash off, so do give it a try when you approach a department store and see if you think differently. I thought it wouldn't work too great on blood stains anyway...