Forbidden Black Rice with Wild Mushrooms, Black Garlic, Crispy Sage & Blood-Red Pomegranate

Every kitchen witch knows that the most intoxicating magic begins with a little fire, a little alchemy, and the delicious promise of something forbidden.

A Little Delicious Witchcraft

For centuries, witches have been portrayed as dangerous women, seductresses whispering incantations over bubbling cauldrons, conjuring powers best left undisturbed.

But among those accused of witchcraft were also healers, herbalists, midwives, and women whose understanding of the natural world challenged the authority of their time.

Women who knew which herbs could comfort the sick, which roots could soothe, and which plants demanded respect.

Their wisdom was gathered through observation, experience, and knowledge passed from one generation to the next.

There was something sacred in that relationship between the healer and the earth.

I’ve always found something irresistible about that.

Hecate, goddess of witchcraft, crossroads, and thresholds, has become especially meaningful to me.

So much so that I carry her symbolism on my back: the moons and the serpent, ancient emblems of intuition, transformation, and renewal.

The serpent sheds its skin.

The moon passes through darkness and returns to light.

Both remind me that becoming who we are sometimes requires leaving behind who we were.

Hecate is the torchbearer who stands at the intersection of what was, what is, and what might yet be.

She doesn’t choose our path.

She illuminates it.

And there is something profoundly sensual about a woman who has learned to trust her instincts, embrace her transformations, and recognize the power she has carried within herself all along.

Tonight, I’m inviting a little of that darkness into my kitchen.

Forbidden black rice slowly drinks in Etna Rosso, a ruby-red wine born of Sicily’s volcanic earth.

Once prized in imperial China, this mysterious grain becomes glossy and dark as midnight, its violet-black hue lending an almost otherworldly beauty to the cauldron.

Wild mushrooms surrender to the heat of cast iron, their edges caramelizing into earthy decadence.

Long treasured in traditional healing practices, mushrooms have been associated with vitality, longevity, and the restorative powers of the forest.

There is something enchanting about ingredients that flourish in the shadows, transforming decay into new life.

Black garlic lends its dark, almost balsamic sweetness, a slow transformation of something once sharp and pungent into something soft, mysterious, and seductive.

Sage crackles in shimmering olive oil, releasing its intoxicating perfume.

For generations, herbalists have valued sage for comforting the throat and soothing the body.

Its very name recalls the Latin salvere, meaning “to be well.”

A plant associated with wisdom, protection, and the healing arts.

Toasted hazelnuts bring the warmth of the autumn forest, while fresh thyme lends its own ancient enchantment.

Once steeped by herbalists into comforting infusions, thyme was associated with courage and purification in ancient Greece. A humble herb whose virtues have been cherished across generations.

And then, the finishing temptation: blood-red pomegranate seeds, scattered like stolen jewels from Persephone’s underworld.

Sweet, tart, and bursting between the teeth, this ancient fruit has long symbolized fertility, desire, death, and rebirth.

Its seeds bound Persephone to the underworld, making the pomegranate an exquisite reminder that even the smallest temptation can change the course of a life.

A pinch of sea salt. One final, deliberate drizzle of olive oil.

The candles are lit. The Etna Rosso is poured. The spell is nearly complete.

Because perhaps the most powerful thing about a witch isn’t what she can summon.

It’s that she knows exactly what she wants—and no longer asks permission to want it.

A little darkness. A little desire. A little delicious witchcraft.

A Little Wine with the Witchcraft

For this particular spell, I chose two Italian reds, each with a little magic of its own.

For the cauldron, a 2024 Cantina Zaccagnini Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, an inexpensive but lovely Italian red with a charming little grapevine twig tied to the bottle. A small offering from the earth itself. How could a kitchen witch resist? Half a cup went into the forbidden black rice, lending its dark-fruit richness to the dish.

For the glass, I chose a Terre Darrigo Etna Rosso DOC, an elegant Sicilian red born on the volcanic slopes of Mount Etna. Its earthy character, delicate red fruit, and bright acidity were beautiful companions to the wild mushrooms, black garlic, and blood-red pomegranate.

There is something wonderfully fitting about a dish inspired by Hecate, prepared with wine from the Italian countryside and enjoyed with another born of volcanic fire.

A little earth in the cauldron. A little volcanic fire in the glass. A little witchcraft on the plate.

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