A Sheer Khurma Story from My Warsaw Kitchen

Could there be a more perfect dessert to welcome Spring?

© 2025 Sanaa Boutayeb

Yesterday, my kitchen filled with the kind of laughter and aroma that only happens when you’re standing side by side with an old friend, stirring sweetness into a pot of memories. My dear friend Zar came over from Austria, and together we tested my Sheer Khurma recipe.

Zar and I go way back. We first met years ago in Washington, D.C. I was fresh out of college. We worked together in the fast-paced world of tech start-ups. To give you a sense of how long we’ve known each other, Amazon had only fifty employees back then. We traveled the world to attend conferences and trade shows – Rio de Janeiro, Geneva, Las Vegas, Dubai. Life took us in different directions—different countries, different careers—but somehow, we've always found our way back to each other’s company and kitchens. She’s been like family ever since. As an American of South East Asian origins, she’s been amazing at keeping both cultures alive in her kitchen—and lucky for me, she shares the best of both.

Sheer Khurma. The name alone is poetry—Sheer meaning milk, and Khurma referring to dates. It’s a name that promises comfort and indulgence in equal measure. A dessert that feels like silk on the tongue, woven from strands of the thinnest vermicelli (found in South East Asian stores), saffron, and cardamom, sweetened with plump dates and a handful of toasted nuts. Okay, you do have to add a bit of brown sugar too. But its magic isn’t just in the ingredients; it’s in its history, its purpose, its ability to gather people around bowls of golden goodness.

The story of Sheer Khurma stretches back centuries, carried through Persian and Mughal kitchens, across trade routes where saffron was once worth its weight in gold. It has traveled far, finding a special place on Eid tables from Iran to India, Pakistan to Afghanistan, and Bangladesh—where it is called Shemai. I tasted it in Dhaka twenty years ago and it was love at first bite. But somehow, no matter where I have it, it always feels familiar. Always feels like home.

For millions of people around the world, Sheer Khurma is the dessert of Eid par excellence—the one that signals celebration after a month of fasting, reflection, and gratitude. But I like to think of it as a dessert made of happiness itself. Even when served cold, it’s still a bowlful of warmth, shared between family, friends, neighbors, even strangers who drop by.

© 2025 Sanaa Boutayeb

And honestly, could there be a more perfect dessert to welcome Spring? After all, Spring is about renewal, light, and life bursting back into bloom—exactly what Sheer Khurma tastes like with every spoonful.

When Zar and I made the recipe yesterday in my Warsaw kitchen, we tested measurements—but we also laughed at old stories, adjusted the sweetness, and debated whether we should use slivered or crushed peeled almonds (we went slivered—crisp and delicate!). We watched as the saffron bloomed in the warm milk and marveled at how dates, simmered just enough, melt into velvet ribbons. We also slightly burned the first batch of almonds and pistachios toasted in ghee—we were too busy chatting. Luckily, it wasn’t a lot. A little bit of mixed nuts goes a long way in Sheer Khurma.

For me, Sheer Khurma is a reminder of how food connects us across continents and seasons, how a pot on the stove can carry histories, how the simplest ingredients—milk, dates, nuts, and vermicelli—become something greater when combined.

So when Spring rolls in, or Eid draws near, or you simply need a bit of sweetness to brighten an ordinary day, trust me: make Sheer Khurma. Make it for the joy, the history, the togetherness. Make it because happiness deserves to be stirred, simmered, and savored.

Zar left this morning after spending a few days with my family and me. My kitchen is quieter now, and I will miss her—but the Sheer Khurma cooling in the fridge feels like a big bowl of happiness she left behind.

Happy Spring!

© 2025 Sanaa Boutayeb

Sheer Khurma: The Dessert Made of Happiness

Yield: 6–8 generous servings

Ingredients

1 liter full-fat milk

5-6 saffron strands

3 tablespoons ghee divided (2 tablespoons for the vermicelli, 1 tablespoon for the mixed nuts)

2 cups thin vermicelli, cut into approx. 10 cm lengths

½ cup condensed milk (optional)

3 tablespoons brown sugar

5 large dates, chopped

¼ cup unsalted pistachios, chopped

¼ silvered or chopped peeled almonds

2 tablespoons dark raisins

1 teaspoon cardamom powder

2 teaspoons rosewater (optional)

Dried rose buds for garnish

Method

1. In a large pot, bring the milk to a boil. Once it starts boiling, reduce the heat to low and let it simmer gently until it reduces to about ¾ of its original volume. This will make the milk rich and creamy.

2. Once the milk has reduced, check for any burnt film at the bottom of the pot. It’s common for milk to form a thin burnt layer as it reduces. Simply strain the milk through a fine mesh strainer into a bowl, discard the burnt bits, wash the pot, and pour the strained milk back in. Then, if using condensed milk, add it now and stir.

3. Soak the saffron strands in a tablespoon of hot milk until they release their color and aroma, then add them to the pot.

4. In a heavy-bottomed pan, heat 2 tablespoons of ghee. Once hot, add the vermicelli and roast on low flame until golden brown. Stir continuously to ensure even browning and prevent burning. Once done, remove the vermicelli from the pan and set aside.

5. In the same pan, heat the remaining 1 tablespoon of ghee. Add the chopped pistachios and almonds, cooking until they turn slightly golden. Add the raisins and stir for 1–2 minutes and remove from heat.

6. Add the cardamom powder, chopped dates, and brown sugar to the milk. Stir well to combine.

7. Add the roasted vermicelli to the milk mixture, cooking over low flame until the vermicelli softens—about 5–7 minutes.

8. Stir in the toasted nuts and raisins. If using rosewater, add it now.

9. Allow everything to simmer together for another 5–7 minutes on low heat. The flavors will blend, and the sheer khurma will thicken slightly.

10. Remove from heat. Sheer khurma can be served warm or chilled. Garnish with additional nuts or dried rose petals.

If you enjoyed this little story from my Warsaw kitchen, feel free to share it or leave me a comment—I’d love to hear about the desserts that bring happiness to your table.