My Harlow Carr Rose Is Blooming (And a easy Rose Salt Recipe for You)
“Everything begins in the soil — the rose, the root, the recipe, the remembering.”
— Forage & Gather
My Harlow Carr rose is blooming again.
Fragrant, full, and just beginning — the first flush of what I hope will be another long season. Last year, it bloomed all the way through November. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Yes, I grow my roses organically. I break all the traditional rules — no fancy sprays, no rigid pruning schedules, no fuss. Just like my father did. He tended a magnificent rose garden filled with heirloom varieties, the kinds with names that sounded like romantic stories. It was one of his great loves — that garden — and he approached it with quiet reverence, artistry and a deep understanding that beauty doesn’t come from control, but from care. His only real rule was this: The soil is the most important thing. Rich, living soil was his secret — and his legacy to me. And it’s stayed with me, this knowing that if you nourish the foundation, everything else will bloom in its own wild, sacred time.
And he was right. I feed the soil, not the plant. I let the garden breathe and live. I don’t spray. I don’t over-tend. And still — the roses bloom.
Because in my experience roses just aren’t that fussy. They’re wild. They’re sacred. They’ll tell you exactly what they need if you know how to listen. I’ll be harvesting petals again this year — some for jam, some to candy with my grandson and scatter on cupcakes like a little spell. Maybe a few to dry and stir into salts, teas, or honey — ways to tuck summer into the stillroom for the colder months. There’s something about tending a rose that reminds me how to tend myself — with patience, with presence, and a little bit of mischief.
So today I’m sharing a favorite way to use rose petals from the garden — a simple, fragrant Persian Rose Salt I love to make that brings a whisper of the sacred to every bite. One of my fondest memories growing up was of my Persian brother, a foreign exchange student named Farhad who lived with us while studying at Case Western Reserve University. Farhad is still a dear friend, and what I remember most from those years is the rose-flavored nougat he would bring me whenever he returned from Iran — soft, sweet, and fragrant with something ancient and otherworldly. I never lost my love for that flavor, which might explain why I always make a little Persian rose salt each year, once the first blooms open…
Persian Rose and Mint Salt
An luscious offering from the garden and the sea
This salt is simple, sacred, and full of layered fragrance. Use it to finish roasted vegetables, sprinkle over buttered rice, or rim a glass for a late summer shrub. It’s beautiful on shortbread, too.
✦ Ingredients:
½ cup coarse flaky sea salt (like Maldon or fleur de sel)
2 tablespoons dried rose petals, preferably from your own organically grown roses (like Harlow Carr)
1 teaspoon dried mint (Persian mint, if you can find it — or the freshest spearmint you’ve dried yourself)
Optional: a pinch of sumac for brightness, or a few crushed pink peppercorns for warmth and color
✦ Directions:
Make sure your rose petals are fully dry. (Air-dried in the shade or gently dehydrated works best.)
Using a mortar and pestle, gently crush the petals until they’re fragrant and broken down — still textured, not powdered.
Add the salt, mint, and any optional ingredients. Blend gently.
Store in a small glass jar with a label, a ribbon, or a blessing — whatever feels right.
Let it sit a few days before using if you can. The salt will take on the scent and spirit of the rose.
🌸 To Use:
Sprinkle over roasted carrots, sweet potatoes, or beets.
Dust over buttered basmati rice or couscous.
Add to a board of fresh goat cheese, feta, or labneh.
Finish dark chocolate or caramel with a pinch of rose magic.
Or simply place a little in your palm, inhale deeply, and remember that beauty still belongs to you.
If you make it, I hope you’ll share it with someone you love.
Or keep it tucked away as a reminder of your own blooming.
“To gather is to remember that nothing truly nourishing is ever rushed. It is chosen, tended, and shared.”
— Forage & Gather
With love,
Beth