Myrrh DIstillation at Last

I figured it was high time I tried distilling myrrh.

We have a little myrrh here--from the area near the Yemen border, but not in any kind of amount that would lead to one finding it for sale in the market. So I went with the available Somali origin one--it’s nice and has a clean, thrillingly antiseptic note--very comforting in myrrh Wallah--exactly what you want from a plant so well known for skin healing, and anti-septic properties.

Myrrh is notoriously hellish to distill, and I had some hesitancy. It has a worse texture possibility than frankincense and frankincense can be a horror when it’s boiling. Even worse, myrrh essential oil has the same weight as water. So how do you separate it?
You can add salt I guess. Or centrifuge it. If you have one. Whatever, it’s just me in my Salalah kitchen, as usual.

I can say that it’s been fun getting to know myrrh, in these initial stages. I let it soak for a while and over time a fantastic sliminess came through, and a skin formed on the top of the water. I couldn’t help but reflect on how appropriate this was, given myrrhs spectacular healing properties, as a disinfectant and wound healer/helper. Really, myrrh displays her charms quite openly.

Unfortunately, there was a drama with my gas line after a few hours and so I either didn’t distill to its full potential or saved it from burning just in time, depending on how you look at it. But I got some very fine hydrosol. It’s packed with micro-molecules of essential oil.



There was no question about taking that oil out. I remember being at our chamomile distillers farm, in England. They distill resins also. They steam distill myrrh under pressure and they illustrate the textural nightmare perfectly well. Beakers and cylinders litter their office and lab, all crusted with myrrh effluvia. I couldn’t imagine.

For some reason I didn’t expect the myrrh to have such a strong, commanding, scent. Don’t know why. I have to admit I wasn’t too keen on the scent of myrrh. Maybe I couldn’t place it. It smelled......important in a medical way....no personal attachment though.

But even before I started distilling this smell made me happy. I stuck my hand in to touch the sliminess and my hand smelled of myrrh for hours. And during distillation the kitchen reeked of this new, important smell, I don’t know why I keep using the word important but it was. It had an element like frankincense, but it clearly wasn’t. I think myrrh is the Nurse Rachet of frankincense, no nonsense, all business and terrifying if you’re a microbe.

Something in the smell of myrrh is like stripes, and gleaming silver, and very very clean. It may even be some reactionary DNA throwback; dancing visions of teeth and suppurating wounds come into my head.

I’m leaving the hydrosol as is. We’ve got little spray misters to carry around here in Oman, waiting for a burn, a cut, a scrape or anything! It’s a packed-full-of-essential oil hydrosol, and we shall see where it takes us. Should have some in the store soon. I will announce it when we do.

Cake and Eat It

No season in New York is complete without a trek to Joe’s house, and aroma-tidbit time.
“When do you want to come for geranium-jasmine cake?” he asked.
Well, of course I answered as any sane person would: “As soon as possible please!"
And so I went last night, up to visit him at the north end of a bare and wintry Central Park.

The cake was flavored with geranium absolute (yes, absolute, deal with it) with rose filling and jasmine sambac frosting.
I mean please.

Need I say anything about these flowers affinity for butter, for cream, for sugar? What better home for jasmine than buttercream frosting?

Since there is not a lot of description I can go into, lets go with the gustatory version of a picture being worth a thousand words.
Just make it yourself.



I don’t have his exact recipe for the cake but any decent recipe for white cake will do, just as long as you make it with real ingredients, and don’t use an instant mix. Try Joy of Cooking, or any good cookbook if you don’t have your own recipe and add the essential oil (or absolute) as you’re creaming the butter and sugar. Joe used three (3) drops geranium absolute. It’s gonna bake in there. Needn’t be strong, just palpably there.

For the icing just make a simple rich heavy one. I agree with Joe in that a lighter icing, for example a whipped, egg whitey one, will not give the essential oils (or absolutes) their due respect. Just stick to traditional American (French) style and you’ll be fine. Remember, butter, cream and sugar are friends of aromatics wallah. Don’t use a canned or instant or packaged frosting. If you are intimidated because you don’t cook, don’t worry, just look at a frosting recipe. It’s easy, really. It will be better if you make it yourself with your hands. It's basically butter and sugar and maybe milk or cream. Add the eo or absolutes when you're combining ingredients.


Joe made 2 separate bowls and used 2-3 drops of oil in each. For the filling frosting he used Rose Ruh, (you can use rose otto,) and the frosting (icing) was jasmine sambac absolute.

The combination of geranium cake with rose filling was sublime; they married exquisitely. Of course they did. Look at the love and commonality geranium and rose share, after all! And that Sambac, like a fairy queen, sprinkling her magic sparkle in blessing.

You could seriously seduce someone with this cake. Or just make a miracle.

Ice Cream School

What a fabulous little reality blip I just sailed through. For anyone out there interested in the business of Ice Cream, and this certainly applies to anyone who might own a dairy, you can’t do any better than the Penn State Ice Cream Short Course held every year at Penn State University in insanely cold central Pennsylvania.

Be forewarned if you’re planning on doing this course! It’s super intensive and they will slam a ton of information (and ice cream,) into you, relentlessly, for 15 hours every day. Considering it’s not that far removed from what I already do, a short hop to gustation from olfaction, it’s different in other ways. There’s no attached trade show with dueling vanilla venders, Belgian chocolate makers, and local/organic/hand milked/cow caressed/grass fed dairies clamoring for your tiny business.

Nope, it’s a big, well known, and widely understood industry, unlike essential oils. Meaning that whereas essential oils are not really known to the general public, at least not in the depth that we know them, everyone knows milk, and cows, and ice cream. So the information reflected this. We learned about mixing ingredients, about freezing, and pasteurizing milk. We did lot of chemistry, micro-biology, and even physics! We ate a lot of ice cream. We did get into vanilla in depth, as a matter of fact, and even made a blend of different origin vanillas to compete in a blind taste test next week. We did quite a bit with chocolate.

What kind of people come to this class? Dairy farmers. Ice Cream makers. Frozen dessert companies. Entrepreneurs. Even though it’s unlikely that all the information will be relevant to you, some of it will be. This is the well known and respected ice cream course and it’s not going to show you how to make ice cream in the sense of do a nice little maceration of fresh peppermint, or give you ideas about new flavors, but it will show you how to make ice cream in the practical sense of percentages of milk fat, serum solids, and this type of unromantic but highly pragmatic information.



Stripped bare like this, ice cream is a little more intimidating yet straightforward than I thought, It’s less happy discussions about mangos and apples and more in the sense of a guy in overalls with a milk stool, a cow and a mop. But it’s better like that, to learn practical information than to trade creative tidbits like matchbox cars. Cause all that creativity is swimming around inside anyway.

Speakers and presentations run the gamut from absolutely fabulous and ultra-engaging to an endurance test. This being Penn State, there is a lot of history thrown about, like the fact that the Berkey Creamery was started in 1865, and they originally made only butter! There was no refrigeration, no pasteurization, ice cream was something that happened in the moment, so you had to actually be there when it was made if you wanted to try it. And they have pictures of all this. It’s fascinating. Today the creamery uses all the milk produced at the diary barns and then brings in about 30% more just to make enough products for the town that feeds off Penn State, and they also make ice cream for the White House. It’s good ice cream and you can’t get more American than Penn State. Even the Naval Academy from Annapolis showed up at the hotel. It’s a full American experience; big and healthy, large cows, athletes, butterfat, comfortable inns glowing in the snowy night, a cozy fire roaring, alpha all the way.

So why did I go?? Well, I had my reasons, and they changed once, twice and three times while I was there. It’s always better to do something, if you can, and I could.
Does this mean we’ll have constant ice cream in the store? Hmmmm. Maybe, maybe not.
It gave me something to think about.

Something else I thought was just great: there is a class for this. I went to an essential oils training course at Purdue University in Indiana in 1996-1997. That course also covered a lot, but it wasn’t really geared towards getting people into any kind of business, except, perhaps, research. In the ensuing years I taught myself a lot of things. All those ice cream formulations? Yes, very difficult and complex but at least we don’t have to figure them out for ourselves! I mean, we have a method to find solutions. We can just have an idea, come up with a few numbers and plug them into some equations. We don’t have to figure out the method of the equations too!

I am so exhausted! I thought I could work on my taxes in the evenings!! That was fanciful! We started at 8 am sharp every day, and had our coffee and breakfast in class. Lunch was in the next room, and the afternoons were either more of the same or labs. Dinner and alcohol was usually taken in the main room again over meetings, questions & answers, homework. I felt I had to have wine every night, in self defense, as I could feel my arteries hardening, and my heart racing as we plowed through dozens and dozens of ice cream tastings. Every night I could barely wash my face before falling into bed and corpse-like sleep, waking with difficulty and rising from a deep hole the next morning, to stagger downstairs and sit blinking though the mornings classes, sipping coffee and trying to focus. It was grand.

Met a lot of nice people, a variety, not the kind of people I usually meet. Dairy farmers, mostly. Doesn’t do to limit oneself, dear.

So what now? We’ll see. Maybe not what you think.

Penn State Creamery

The Seven Year Itch

Wouldn’t it be kind of cool to actually start every year off again, fresh? Pretend you can carefully pick and choose the the things you’re taking with you, leaving the rest in a psychic trash bin? We’d probably make that even more of a disaster, if we had the choice! As it is, we just lurch ahead, freighted with all the crap we’ve gathered along the way. Some of us learn from it. Some of us just bang our heads.

This will begin the seventh year of writing this blog! It’s insane. I can’t even remember the original reason I started it, but I think it was to chronicle the trip I took across Africa with Jonathan in early 2007. It was a rally, of old junker cars. You weren’t supposed to spend over £100 on a car and all cars were donated in Bamako (or Banjul) at the finish. Our team was “Ex Marks the Spot.” Jonathan is my ex, obviously. We kept separate blogs of our adventures with the Mauritanian army, the djinns of Morocco, the groove of Mali, and of course, that indescribable entity, the Sahara. And our wheezing yet gallantly tenacious 1984 Volvo station wagon. We are both lucky we didn’t kill each other.

Then, instead of letting the blog slip away, I found I liked writing it, and tried to highlight traveling for essential oils, investigating what certain terms mean, like “organic”, “fair-trade,” “endangered,” “attars,” “natural” and “ethically grown.”
I’ve done pretty well with that, and the only trouble, actually, is that I can’t seem to travel enough these days to investigate new oils. Between the enormous amount of energy (and money) I’ve invested in Oman, and the move in New York, traipsing around Madagascar has been out of reach, no matter how many times I almost get there. When I go chasing something nowadays, it’s usually to India, where even though I will flail about, I know where to go to find sandalwood, agarwood, jasmine. Or I go to Southeast Asia.

The blog also became a catharsis throughout my Omani journey. The first year in Oman I was attached to someone who was helping me, and the second year I was helping him. The third year with him went from one extreme to the other with a sad final result. My process and journey have been very organic, in that I didn’t come with a plan, and the plan that eventually unfolded changed several times, as possibilities leapt up. The first year was quite blind, actually. Like feeling my way alone down a dark passage. The second year I was snatched up by the Diwan of Royal Court Affairs, and the third year, it has been my own vision and plans. It’s still unfolding organically.

The first year I could still write about what was happening with me, and Oman, and frankincense, and the frangipani enfleurage, and even my friend, although I referred to him obliquely, of course. I was blindly in love with Oman then.

The second year, with the attachment to the Diwan being the biggest thing in my life, I couldn’t even whisper about it. I was floating on air for the first part of that association, and gradually became disillusioned over the year. But it was not the Diwan itself that disillusioned me; and it was nothing to do with His Majesty, whom I adore. It was the antics of the Minister at the time, and some of the people attached to him, wallah. It’s no secret any longer. I have told a few people about it, in Salalah, because the episode didn’t leave a good taste in my mouth. It’s when I became less blind, although still in love with Oman. Since it took up most of the year, and was excruciating in its devolution, the only loyalty I feel is toward His Majesty and his Diwan, not the (ex) Minister, his wife or his facilitator. Course, can’t write details, even though that Minister is no longer at his post. The “Frankincense Revolution” saw to that. I resigned from the project and delivered my letter to his office 10 days before he had to stand down.

This past year I wrote less, as my personal posts became fodder for people with bad intentions. Combine that with the discretion needed to not mention people, and therefore situations which could lead to the guessing of those same people. Back on my own, supposedly with my original guy, after a couple of months I realized that Americans don’t need sponsors. That set me free, although the ramifications are still shaking things up. Can’t write too much about that though, too new, too fresh.

I do enjoy writing this blog. It’s hard to say why. I don’t get a lot of comments, and I’m not sure how many people read it. Someone does. Hi There! Although I do occasionally go off on a political rant, this is not meant to be a commentary on social issues, even though I obviously have plenty of opinions. It’s a personal blog, for someone whose personal life is largely her company and related things, like looking for sandalwood oil. But it gives me a sense of satisfaction. I thought perhaps it was time to stop, but I really don’t want to.

I do hope that this year, the fourth one in Oman and the seventh one for AbsoluteTrygve, will have some interesting entries on certain oils and flowers I’ve got my eye on, in a couple of places I’ve been salivating over. And I hope to finally be able to chronicle my progress with Enfleurage Middle East, without incurring the wrath or envy of those nearby.

Reaching a Plateau

Too bad it’s not always a straightforward battle like you might find in Taekwondo. Someone throws a punch and you block it, move out of the way, kick them, punch them back. But it’s good training for all kinds of attacks, really. Before I did martial arts and even for a long time as I was training, I thought black belt was the goal, the destination. It is, but what isn’t apparent is that it’s only a goal, the first of many, merely a place to rest for a moment and then start the serious work.

All I can say is WOW.

The new store in New York is up, and ready, and open, and furnished, and absolutely lovely. Still not 100% finished as we have a few small touches to complete. This store was a group effort and would simply have not happened without the help of Tom and Jon, Stacy and Christina, Ken, Freddy and Daniel. Tom, as usual, takes everything upon himself and was completely responsible for every aspect of the new store. Awning, furniture, colors, coordination, you name it, he did it. And Jonathan flew out to NYC several times, dealt with the construction crews, painted, designed things, worked with Tom, etc. Because of them I was able to actually be away from New York as the new store was being built. That’s unheard of. Mind you, I was here for several months before construction started, and we only got the building permits 2 days after I went back to Oman. I was not able to make it happen any faster.




In Oman things changed quite dramatically. I have the new space, and everything is filed, registered, discussed, signed, and ready to go. Jealousy and malice can be kicked down the stairs where they belong, not clinging to my back. We have the full protection of Omani law. There is no more question of being held to the winds of whim and subterfuge. Seems like quite a bit of ugliness and shocking betrayals were unearthed, thank God at the end of the vulnerable phase. Alhamdulilah. It’s fantastic, and hard to imagine, but true. It was quite a journey, but it appears I have arrived, and now for a quick breather, and to survey the climb ahead, and then continue, older, scarred, tougher and wiser, Mashallah.



On a sad note, I lost my Landcruiser, it was killed under the most unlikely circumstances. Can’t write about those circumstances of course, at least not at the moment. But even though I, and all my friends, miss that wonderful, intrepid and awesome vehicle, it was a price I paid for knowledge, clarity and freedom. I will buy another. There is so often a silver lining.....

That which doesn’t kill us.... makes us stronger. Or so they say.

One other sad note--I had written about bringing a new oudh from Laos in from Oman. This was our first new batch of Laotian since........2007. It had been sitting on a shelf in Vientiane, waiting for me to take it, for years. It was the last batch of Super Lao, completely irreplaceable. I can safely say this was an oil I was planning on keeping in my private collection for the rest of my life. It didn’t make it. It was seized by US Customs as it did not have the fairly newly mandated CITES certificate. I believe that agarwood as registered as CITES appendix II in 2006. I think that oil has also been included as a product which is supposed to be registered with CITES since 2009. Not sure about these dates, but as I have written at length in the past, personally, I think the whole CITES thing, (when it comes to agarwood--I think it’s great and necessary for the trade in endangered animals) is misguided, prone to misuse, confusing and without any link at all to what it is ostensibly for, to protect agarwood. But they don’t care what I think, and now that lovely bottle will sit on some bureaucratic shelf in the bowels of JFK until someone either steals it, or pours it out. There is no discussion, because the people enforcing this believe they are doing something highly moral. And I agree with them when it comes to regulating the trade in animals. There is no end of trouble for all kinds of people due to the CITES agarwood thing, and I don’t mean me. I mean all the people in NE India and around the world who must deal with the agarwood mafia since their industries were declared null. CITES certificates are bought and sold just like how you’d expect. It’s got nothing to do with the reality of an ethical harvest. Never occurred to me to get a certificate for this batch--I’ve been sitting on it so long. My bad there. Anyway, it’s gone. For the few who read this and were looking forward to trying it......sorry. We all knew there would be an end to oudh. So here we are. The farmed and inoculated crap is also subject to CITES by the way........If you’ve got oud, hold onto it. I can tell you the good Laotian stuff is now gone. As for most of the other origins....I have no idea. Our speciality was Lao, as everyone who knows us knows.



Back here in New York, the holiday season is here, and for once it’s not a horror show. The new neighborhood is just great, we don’t feel crushed, choked and hammered. We feel.......good. Weird.

It’s all small businesses, lots of old ones, pretty decorations, no big corporate anything, nice people, not as many drunks, plenty of trees and dogs.....and it’s still Greenwich Village. I walked down Bleecker the other night with Tom...Those absurd corporate luxury boutiques no longer irritate me. I don’t give a damn if Burberry Brit pays $70,000+ a month for a small space on Bleecker. I’m gone. And the first of the discount stores has moved in, across from the new Jimmy Choo boutique. The pendulum will swing back, and I am so relieved to be away from all that.



Ironically, the new Enfleurage is more “upscale” than any of those pricy places--our old store was the old Village style, and very colorful, friendly, informal, and I have to admit, dated. It’s a complete switch. The new store is an ocean of calm serenity, solid and with a modern almost Japanese feel to it. We have a tester bar with seats, for our essential oils, and three small bays with our new candle line, incense and herbs. The coconut palm floors glows with warm reds and browns. Even our logo is new and decidedly more elegant, modern, and aesthetically pleasing than the last one. Our color scheme is now earth tones, browns, tans, colors of the desert. You can feel the stress drain out of your face as you come into the new Enfleurage. It’s where we all want to be, all the time. It’s intimate and cozy, yet clean and spare. Very happy.

Hello West 13!

That's a palm wood floor, folks. Coconut palm, Wallah. See how it glows? Love love love that.
No furniture yet, we will be on boxes for this, our soft opening.
Grand Opening coming up Jan 2. Sign up for the newsletter or check our facebook page for updates.
This new store is so homey and cozy we should probably offer robes and slippers, a seat by the fire, and a chilled martini or a cup of cocoa to all who wander in.
Did I mention our next door neighbor specializes in Rare Wines?
Could there be a better match? In heaven? Lilac chocolates is around the corner too....

And not only that! Coming soon! The finest, most succulent, all rounded and roasted robustness, new and old, already aged, super rare new Laotian Oudh.
That's right. Even though we continue to slowly sell our down our Super Lao, we have a new batch, one that's been sitting, awaiting, aging and maturing in Vientaine, and now, finally makes the journey to us.
It's 2 or 3 years aged, and one of the last batches from wild trees. Distilled on-site in Northern Laos, from the distiller to me here in Oman and carried by me, very soon, to New York. I'll be bringing some of our new batch of frankincense oil, hand distilled by me in Salalah, to help ring in some holiday cheer too.

Enfleurage Middle East has a new home! We found the perfect location, and slowly slowly it's coming along. Probably would be faster if I wasn't split between New York and Oman, but that's the way it is, I can't help it! Say hello this spring! And start thinking about that future trip to the sweetest place on Earth, The Sultanate of Oman. We're here.

So long, So sad

Bye, Bleecker