For a few weeks every autumn, Dr Sally Francis, gathers, picks and dries saffron until the early hours of the morning. As most of us sleep, she can be found gently preparing the world’s most valuable spice at her kitchen table in Norfolk, her mum by her side. It’s a smooth operation today, but it has taken twenty five years to perfect. It was in 1997 that then-Oxford University botany student Dr Francis asked her parents for saffron plants as a birthday present; she'd spotted a newspaper advert for them and, aware from her studies that it was tricky to grow, her curiosity was piqued.

‘Back then, if you wanted to find something unusual, it was really, really hard to source,’ she says. ‘I saw some plants advertised and I was interested to see what they looked like. It was probably because I’d read about saffron – it used to be a crop here in the Middle Ages, but the climate was all wrong to grow it. I often wondered why.’

Geophysicist David Smale’s introduction to saffron was also borne of curiosity. He had, in the early 2000s, been looking for something to grow, and the idea of saffron – and returning it to Saffron Walden, which took its name from the spice – stuck. After all, in the Middle Ages, England was the world’s biggest saffron producer, with output peaking in the 1500s. But cheap imports from overseas and the labour intensive nature of the process meant that within a couple of centuries production had all but died out.

David soon learnt that when the farming disappeared, so too did the knowledge around how, exactly, one might grow saffron. Determined to fill in the gaps, he visited a Saffron Walden museum, library and even an agricultural college to brush up, but returned empty-handed. ‘I started making enquiries, but no-one knew anything about growing it,’ he says. ‘I was told that no-one grew it anymore. Everything has been trial and error.’ He later stumbled upon a medieval text from which he gleaned some pearls of wisdom, but his knowledge today is largely the result of his own experience – even in today's digital age, he says many of the guides online are not reliable. 

While saffron, taken from the crocus sativus flower, is often associated with Spain and its vibrant pans of paella, it is believed to have originated in Crete and is most widely grown in Iran (around 98% of the global crop is produced there), before being exported to and repackaged in Spain. Traditionally used as a hair and clothes dye, the crimson spice was a sign of wealth for the rich and has long been praised for its supposed medicinal benefits. Today, most of us are familiar with its culinary uses – and its price tag. After all, it’s often said to be as expensive as gold (this isn't quite true, but it is the dearest spice in the world by some way) – Dr Francis says a 0.3g jar, enough to make a risotto for four, three times, would cost roughly £9.20.

It's no surprise that both Dr Francis and David had humble first harvests, producing little more than a teaspoonful. But as their understanding of the delicate flowers blossomed, so too did their success. And soon, word began to spread – a government grant in the early 2000s helped Dr Francis take Norfolk Saffron from a hobby to a business, while David's English Saffron caught the eye of former River Cottage chef James Whetlor. Today, they are two of a handful of growers who are returning saffron to the UK, supplying home cooks, chefs, bakers, delicatessens and more. While English Saffron has moved out of David's garden to three bigger spaces (two in Essex, including one at the home of Tiptree preserves, and another in Devon), Dr Francis has remained at her smallholding, which has been in the family since 1934. ‘The process is so labour intensive, and you would never get enough staff to look after it if it was bigger,’ she explains. ‘I can’t tell you how many hours it takes, and we can’t do very much by machine.’

It is, after all, a process which requires patience and precision. Crocus sativus, which must be protected from wildlife and bad weather (Dr Francis says she once lost 10% of her crop to a single stormy day), begins to flower in autumn and, if the weather is kind, will continue to do so for the next six weeks. The harvest signals the start of long days for growers – Dr Francis says she often begins gathering the day's buds at 7am, finishing at lunchtime. Then, sitting around the kitchen table, she picks the red stigmas and styles, or threads, and discards the flowers (which are later composted). After, they must be dried, and all of this happens with the clock ticking. ‘It’s not like apples where you pick them and it’s done,’ David agrees. ‘You can pick about 1,000 flowers an hour, but then for every hour in the field it’s about three hours of processing time.’ Luckily, there are plenty of helpers willing to chip in, with the operation quickly becoming a family affair. ‘I always say don’t come near me in October or you might find yourself directed towards a field,’ David laughs.