Bridging cultures

Sea buckthorn is a hardy berry. It clings to sandy soil, enduring wind and drought as if it were born for the desert. Yet in the lands of the Emirates, it cannot take root: without moisture and cool morning dew, the amber clusters will never ripen.

And still, the berry has a hidden thread that stretches eastward. Its Latin name, Hippophae, means “shining horse.” In ancient Greece, people believed that sea buckthorn leaves and berries made steeds strong and swift, their coats gleaming like gold.

This legend resonates with the Arabian Peninsula, where the love of horses is woven into the culture itself. Even today, purebred Arabians are fed with special care — select hay, grain, and even dates, the sweet delicacy of the desert. It’s said that for a horse, a date is a reward, a sign of affection and friendship.

Hibiscus, by contrast, is the opposite of sea buckthorn. It takes root almost anywhere, finding a place for itself in every land. In Asia and Africa, it grows wild. In temperate climates, it blooms in greenhouses and on windowsills.

The tea brewed from hibiscus flowers is familiar to many from childhood, both in the UAE and in the northern latitudes. It is sipped hot to warm the body, or cold to quench thirst. Thus it unites heat and coolness, different habits and tastes.

And so, in this tale, we brought together the seemingly incompatible: a northern berry that never claimed the desert sands, and a flower that thrives almost everywhere. From their union was born the Seabuckthorn Sunrise set, with its date pairing — where all the heroes of our story finally meet.

Long ago, in desert lands, berries were not sweet treats but medicine. The red fruits of Lycium shawii were brewed into infusions to ease colds and aid breathing. The pale berries of Ochradenus aucheri were used to support digestion. And the fruit of Capparis cartilaginea was given for stomach pain.

In time, foreign traders arrived on the shores of the Arabian Peninsula, bringing with them a drink unknown here before.

In 1908, in Manchester, pharmacist John Noel Nichols created a fruit tonic from grapes, raspberries and blackcurrants, blended with herbs and spices. By the late 1920s, Vimto had reached the Gulf countries — and quickly found a special place in the region’s culture.

Its rich berry flavour helped restore strength after the day’s fast, and soon the drink became one of the staples of evening tables during Ramadan. To this day, millions of bottles of Vimto are enjoyed across the Middle East during the holy month.

Today in the Emirates, even nature itself has been tamed. In the desert, one now finds not only wild shrubs, but also strawberries, raspberries and even blueberries — grown in greenhouses and vertical farms.

Such a marvel — forest berries without a forest — was born on the shores of the Persian Gulf, a place of secrets and astonishing transformations.

You can savour its flavour with the Desert Rose set, where Vimto syrup meets forest-berry marmalade — the very taste familiar to anyone who grew up among northern orchards and cool, shaded woods.

The date palm wears hundreds of faces — from dry, astringent fruit to soft, honey-like sweetness. Some varieties, such as Khalas, Barhi or Mazafati, are remarkably close to caramel, melting on the tongue. It is no coincidence that in Arab culture, the date is considered life’s very first sweetness: during a special ritual, the lips of a newborn are touched with its flesh, so the child may taste care and blessing from the very first days.

Later, dates become a treat for older children — a symbol of joy and hospitality, the sweet companion of youth.

But taste travels, shifting across lands and forms. In the distant northern countries where palms do not grow, it transformed into toffee — golden, chewy caramel made from milk and sugar. For many, it became the first memory of sweetness: the joy of play, the warmth of home, the mark of carefree times. Like the fruit of the eastern palms, this caramel was within everyone’s reach — not a rare indulgence, but a small everyday wonder.

And so lives the legend of a sweetness that can change its form, yet always remains a sign of care and joy. In the desert — the date. In the north — the toffee.

In the Date Negroni set, they meet again, uniting distant lands and cultures in a single flavour.

The sweetness of dates and toffee enters into dialogue with the defining bitterness of the Negroni, and from this contrast emerges a new shade of legend — a taste vivid and mature, yet still radiant, like the memory of childhood.

Long ago, Buckwheat was born in the mountains of Asia. There, amid mist and cool air, it was nurtured by people and cherished by bees. Its seeds became food, and its flowers a source of thick, dark honey — earthy in taste, deep in aroma.

Later, Buckwheat journeyed to faraway lands and found a true home in the North — where summers are short and people value simple, hearty fare. There it came to symbolize strength and endurance, and its honey became the most distinctive of all.

But Buckwheat belongs to a large family. Its brothers — knotweeds, sorrels and other kin — spread across the world. Some even reached the Arabian Peninsula. Along sandy paths and roadsides you can find modest yet resilient herbs with curious names — Polygonum persicaria and Rumex vesicarius, for example.

They fear neither drought, nor blazing sun, nor heavy footsteps. Even when dismissed as weeds, they remain part of the great buckwheat clan.

Bees do not pass their blossoms by. They gather pollen and nectar, giving rise to light and delicate honey (though in the Emirates, it is the fragrant offspring of other desert plants — the flowers of sidr and acacia — that are most renowned).

And so one day, Buckwheat set out to visit its family in the East. There, where the desert holds the sweetness of blossoms and the labour of bees, it met its brothers and their gifts.

Thus was born the Honey Yuzu Buckwheat set, in which roots and flavours entwine. And Belevskaya pastila became the crowning touch of this tale — like a golden apple offered at the journey’s end, it completes the story and preserves its sweet memory.