I pulled into the Bend in the Road parking lot and immediately noticed the wild roses, their pink and white blossoms spilling over the dunes. Rosa rugosa bushes thrive in sandy soil, flowering each spring before producing vitamin-packed rosehips later in the season. I gathered a few handfuls of petals, and tucked them in a container on my front seat, letting their delicate fragrance gently perfume the car. I proceeded with my walk down State Beach, dog in tow, and noticed a light breeze carried the faint rose smell to my nose. In tandem with the sun shining as waves lapped and sparkled to one side, it was glorious.
Beach roses beckon me every spring. We’re here, they seem to say. And I respond.
Sometimes I place a pile of petals in small open paper bags, or in boxes in a bedroom drawer, or by my bedside, to appreciate the fragrance. A handful in the bathroom offers a subtle, natural air freshener. The petals themselves are beautiful — soft, delicate, and almost heart-shaped.
They’re edible, too. All roses, unsprayed, are edible. This weekend, they adorned a fruit pavlova I made. I remember a wedding brunch I catered, where befittingly, rose petals went into a salad and topped a fruit and granola parfait. Another time, friends who owned a cocktail company came to give a mixology class in my cooking school kitchen. I had prepared a rose syrup for them to experiment with. On the spot, they created a cocktail using the rose syrup, along with cucumber, lime, gin, and club soda. The drink took on the rosy pink hue of the syrup, and we floated a single petal on top for garnish. We called it “the Vineyard Rose.” Rose syrup works beautifully in nonalcoholic drinks, too. Rose lemonade, anyone?
Nature never ceases to amaze me. Rosa rugosa requires little care, and returns year after year with remarkable reliability. Of course, I’m far from the only admirer. Roses have symbolized love, beauty, purity, and devotion throughout human history.
The cultivation of roses dates back roughly 5,000 years to ancient China. In Greek mythology, the flower is associated with Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Persian cultures perfected the art of distilling a rose fragrance. Shakespeare mentioned roses more than 50 times in his plays and sonnets, giving us the famous line from “Romeo and Juliet,” “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
In more recent history, many Americans think of the White House Rose Garden, redesigned during Jacqueline Kennedy’s tenure as First Lady, or the dozen roses exchanged on Valentine’s Day. In 1986, Ronald Reagan signed legislation making the rose the floral emblem of the U.S. If there isn’t already a coffee-table book devoted entirely to the many stories, symbols, and uses of the rose, there ought to be.
It was in the Middle Eastern countries, though, that roses became woven into culinary traditions. Rose water and rose syrup have long flavored desserts and drinks, and have been used to garnish festive dishes. Today, a rose syrup may still be drizzled over baklava, stirred into beverages, or used to sweeten custards.
In our own kitchens, a handful of petals transform a dessert into something memorable. Scatter them over cakes, strawberries, raspberries, or whipped cream. Freeze them in ice cubes for a touch of elegance in summer drinks. Try making the rose syrup recipe below, and experiment with your own creations. Or explore Mediterranean and Middle Eastern recipes for further inspiration.
Once beach roses have finished blooming, other edible flowers can carry the season forward. Calendula, borage, bachelor’s buttons, nasturtiums, and lavender, among others, bring color, flavor, and beauty to the table.
And for those interested in expanding their knowledge of wild edible foods, a new foraging club may be starting next fall at the Chilmark library. Keep an eye on the adult programming announcements for updates.
Meanwhile, please, stop to smell the roses.
Rose Syrup
1 cup water
1 cup sugar
1½ cups rose petals
Add water and sugar to a saucepan and bring to a boil. Remove from the burner and add the rose petals to steep. Let cool. Pour the syrup with the rose petals into a quart-size Mason jar. Store in the fridge for three to four weeks.