The saffron tales, p.1
The Saffron Tales, page 1
For Pedar Bozorg, my grandfather,
who taught me how to eat.
Contents
Introduction
A taste of Iran
The Persian store cupboard
BREAKFAST
Persian ajil granola
Date, almond and tahini energy balls
Date and cinnamon omelette
Tomato and spring onion omelette
Baked eggs with spinach and sumac
Scrambled eggs with feta and dill
Saffron and cardamom vermicelli with fried egg
Spiced butternut squash preserve
Carrot, cardamom and rose water jam
RASHT Tales of rice paddies and tea plantations
MEZZE & SIDES
Mixed herb platter
Olives marinated with walnuts and pomegranates
Easy naan bread
Persian flatbread
Yoghurt with spinach and garlic
Yoghurt with pomegranate and mint
Yoghurt with cucumber and dill
Yoghurt with beetroot and mint
Burnt aubergine and walnut dip
Chicken livers with pomegranate molasses
Gilaki pinto beans
Corn with sumac and za’atar spiced butter
Mixed herb kuku
Green bean and caramelised onion kuku
Saffron, potato and barberry kuku
Herby baked falafels with a fennel and watercress salad
TEHRAN Tales of coffee shops and counter-culture
SALADS
Salad Shirazi
Cucumber salad with sekanjibeen dressing
Persian garden salad
New potato salad with a dill yoghurt dressing
Watermelon, mint and feta salad
Carrot and pistachio salad
Red cabbage, beetroot and date salad
Persimmon, goat’s cheese and rocket salad
Fragrant mixed herb and flatbread salad
Broad bean, sour cherry and rice salad
ISFAHAN & SHIRAZ Tales of saffron and rose water
SOUPS
Legume noodle soup
Onion and fenugreek soup
Pearl barley and vegetable soup
Spicy lentil and tamarind soup
Hot yoghurt and chickpea soup
Butternut squash and dried lime soup
Pomegranate soup
Pistachio soup
TABRIZ Tales of milk and honey
MAINS
Persian rice
Aubergine and mushroom tahcheen
Smoky aubergines with egg and tomato
Stuffed aubergines
Rice with lentils, dates and walnuts
Garlicky beans with dill and egg
Gilaki herb stew
Bandari fishcakes with a tamarind and date sauce
Grilled mackerel with a spicy pomegranate salsa
Mixed herb rice with baked salmon
Lemon and saffron baked sea bass
Whole baked fish stuffed with walnuts and pomegranates
Prawn, coriander and tamarind stew
Lime and saffron chicken kebabs
Apricot and prune chicken stew
Chicken stew with spinach and prunes
Chicken with walnuts and pomegranates
Barberry and saffron rice with chicken
Roast chicken with pomegranate and za’atar glaze
Lamb meatballs stuffed with barberries and walnuts
Slow-cooked lamb shoulder with dried lime and split peas
Lamb and mixed herb stew
Dr Asaf’s juicy lamb kebabs
Rice with lamb, tomatoes and green beans
Spiced beef with eggs and spring onions
BANDAR ABBAS Tales of spices and seafood
DESSERTS
Chocolate and pistachio torte
Pomegranate and sour cherry sponge cake
Yoghurt cake with poached figs
Rhubarb and cardamom cheesecake
Poached quince with mascarpone and pistachios
Apricot and pistachio tart with orange blossom cream
Orange blossom and date pudding
Cardamom crème caramel
Saffron, rose water and pistachio ice cream
Choux buns with rose water and pistachio cream
Sour cherry and dark chocolate cookies
Date and walnut squares
Persian love cake
Planning a meal
Lists of gluten-free and dairy-free recipes
BEFORE WE BEGIN, I’d like to address a sometimes perplexing question: Iran or Persia? Persia was the name given to Iran by the Ancient Greeks several thousand years ago. Since that time, the West has used the term to describe the empire and the country whose inhabitants were called Persians and who spoke the Persian language. However, people inside the country have always referred to it as Iran, a place where Iranians live, who speak their native language, Farsi.
This all changed in 1935 when the Iranian government requested that all foreign embassies refer to their country as Iran.
To Iranians, the name Iran is inseparable from their country’s rich and ancient cultural traditions, which gave rise to one of the world’s most influential civilisations – pioneering advances in astronomy, science and medicine, as well as exquisite art, beautiful carpets and architectural prowess. For most non-Iranians, however, ‘Iran’ has no such cultural connotations and these days is more commonly associated with the country’s recent political history. Because of this, some Iranians prefer to refer to their country as Persia when talking to non-Iranians, particularly when they are discussing something cultural, such as food. I use the words Iranian and Persian interchangeably in this book.
Introduction
When I was little and living in Iran, I used to sob my heart out each morning as my mother got ready to leave for work. Clinging to her legs, I would beg her not to go, and, to appease me, Mum would explain that she needed to go to work to earn money so she could buy me some pomegranates. I practically pushed her out the door when I heard this.
My obsession with pomegranates started early, nurtured by visits to my grandparents’ farm where I could pick the fruit fresh from the trees. I had a knack for vigorously rubbing the leathered skins of the fruit between my hands, listening to its ruby seeds quietly pop and crunch beneath my fingers, until the pomegranate was soft and pulpy enough for me to tear a hole in one end and squeeze its scarlet juices into my mouth. I don’t even want to think about the number of outfits I ruined over the years by being too hasty or clumsy in my efforts.
I was born in Croydon, south London, but my mother’s side of the family comes from the sub-tropical shores of the Caspian Sea in northern Iran. Growing up in 1980s Britain, I was always acutely aware of the gulf that existed between the Iran I knew and loved and the Iran depicted on the news. As I got older, this gulf turned into a chasm and my frequent trips to Iran to visit my maternal family were greeted with surprise and intrigue from friends and colleagues alike. With raised eyebrows, people would ask probing questions, fascinated to know how an independent Western woman such as myself could take so much pleasure in visiting a country fraught with controversy and turbulence.
My answer was simple. I loved the exuberance, warm-heartedness and affection of the Iranian people; I loved the dramatic mountains and dazzling scenery of Iran’s landscapes; and I loved the garlic and herb infused food that harmonised sweet and sour flavours so perfectly.
Shortly after I was born, my grandparents moved to a small piece of land outside Astaneh-e Ashrafieh, a small town in the Gilan province of Iran, and began working the land, growing rice and vegetables for sale in the local markets. They grew pumpkins, squash, aubergines, tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, chillies, garlic, spinach, half a dozen different varieties of beans and countless fresh green herbs, as well as apples, oranges, quinces, blackberries, strawberries, watermelons, cantaloupe, kiwis, greengages, persimmons and loquat. Needless to say, no one ever went hungry at our house.
I remember sitting with my grandmother, cross-legged on the kitchen floor, making jar upon jar of pickled garlic, and being sternly lectured by my uncle, also a rice farmer, on how important it was to cook rice properly so that all the grains stayed separate. But it was my grandfather, Ahmad Rabiee, who really nurtured my love of good food. Pedar Bozorg (which means grandfather in Farsi) was the kind of man who would drive for several hours just to buy a kilo of his favourite oranges when they were in season, or embark on solo hikes through the mountainous terrain of Gilan’s forests to source pots of his favourite organic honey. One time he poked me and my cousins awake with his walking stick at 6am to share a basket of figs he’d just picked from the tree in the front garden. And we knew if we weren’t up and at the table by 6.05am, he’d have eaten the lot.
The inspiration behind this book came from my desire to share the Iran I know and love. Armed with little more than a notepad and a bottle of pomegranate molasses, I traversed more than 3000 kilometres of the country’s rugged landscapes searching for recipes and stories that captured modern Iranian life.
I travelled from the snowy mountains of Tabriz to the cosmopolitan cafés of Tehran, via the rice paddies of the Caspian Sea and the majestic deserts of central Iran, ending up at the tropical fishing ports of the Persian Gulf. On my journey I visited saffron farms and pomegranate orchards, artisan chocolatiers and ancient tea houses, cooking and eating with farmers, artists, electricians and school teachers. As we ate together, the people I met shared the stories behind the food they love and the country they call home, and it is their stories that are interwoven with the recipes in this book.
Some of the recipes are for dishes that have been cooked the same way for thousands of years, others are modern interpretations of Iranian classics, and others still take inspiration from Persian ingredients. Many reflect my personal preference for moving towards vegetarian and plant-based food. At the heart of all of the recipes though is a common thread: a celebration of a side of Iran that never makes the headlines but that is central to its story – its amazing food.
A taste of Iran
Persian cuisine weaves together a myriad of delicate spices and elegant flavours gathered from Iran’s position at the heart of the old Silk Road.
Those unfamiliar with the food often come to the sofreh (the patterned tablecloth on which dishes are served) expecting spicy, fiery flavours, perhaps more befitting the country’s climate and politics, and are often surprised to find that the cuisine is gentle and soothing – a poetic balance of subtle flavours such as dried limes, saffron and orange blossom.
Slow-cooked stews known as khoresht and elaborate rice dishes layered with herbs, vegetables, legumes, meat, nuts and fruit are the bedrocks of Persian cuisine, creating a dazzling mosaic of scents, textures and colours at the dining sofreh. There are innumerable different types of khoresht, with regional and seasonal specialities, but each will be sure to have a sour and sweet balance – Iran’s most dominant taste.
Outside the home, kebabs are king and on every street corner you will find succulent cuts of meat or fish, often marinated with yoghurt and spices, threaded onto skewers and barbecued over hot coals. Kebabs are served sprinkled with sumac (a tart red spice made from the dried berries of the sumac bush) and are either piled high on white rice or tucked into large flatbreads, and are always accompanied by some grilled tomatoes, fresh herbs and crunchy pickles.
Iranians adore fresh fruit, which accompanies breakfast, lunch and dinner, and those in-between times when you might want to take a break from eating. The moment you walk into an Iranian’s house you will be presented with tea, sweets and a large platter of assorted fruit, and failure to eat at least three different varieties risks causing serious offence to your host. The country’s fertile soil and diverse climate nurtures peaches, apricots, grapes, persimmons, melons, kiwis, figs, cherries, quinces and, of course, the mighty pomegranate – Iran’s national fruit, shrouded in mythology and celebrated through the ages in Persian art and poetry.
Using fruit to flavour savoury dishes is another defining feature of Persian food. Pomegranates, plums, greengages, sour cherries and apricots are salted, dried and pounded into flat fruit leathers or cooked down into pastes or molasses to be added to savoury dishes such as khoresht and soups. When no one is looking, I’ve been known to sneak a teaspoon of homemade pomegranate molasses from my grandmother’s fridge, relishing its pucker-your-lips sharpness. Lemon juice, pomegranate molasses and verjuice are all used to sharpen dishes, along with the bitter and piquant juice of Seville oranges (narenj).
Iran is a vast country and the regional differences are striking, not only in culture, language and climate but also in cuisine. Depending on which part of the country you are in, the dishes that are found on the sofreh will vary. Meatballs stuffed with prunes and walnuts might feature in the Turkish-influenced north-east of the country. Garlicky aubergine dips might appear by the Caspian Sea. Sweet rice dishes, layered with fruit and nuts, abound in central Iran; with perhaps some spicy fried squid in the south. In each region, the sofreh celebrates the best local and seasonal produce, in dishes that have been perfected over centuries to suit the local climate – but there are also some nationwide commonalities.
Eating the Persian way
Traditionally the main meal of the day is eaten at lunchtime and is often a leisurely affair, followed by a short siesta. (Well, it is hot.) The sofreh is likely to hold a couple of larger dishes – a stew, a rice dish or a kebab – alongside smaller plates of salads, yoghurts, pickles and platters of fresh herbs, and diners help themselves to as little or as much as they like. Meals are eaten with a fork and spoon (perfect for scooping up those mounds of steamed rice) and washed down with water, juice or doogh, a cool and refreshing savoury drink made with yoghurt and mint.
Dinner is often more casual: perhaps some bread, cheese and herbs or simply a glass of warm milk. One of my grandfather’s cherished sayings was ‘Eat breakfast on your own, share your lunch with your friends and give your dinner to your enemies.’ This proverb encourages us to take time to quietly savour breakfast and contemplate the day ahead, take joy in our lunch and use it as a time to connect with our loved ones, and to eat lightly at night, a time when our digestive fire is at its weakest and the body is beginning to wind down for the day – a practice that is now advocated by most nutritionists.
Modernity is certainly inescapable in Iran today. It is an incredibly young country, with two thirds of the population aged under 35. This new generation of Iranians has enthusiastically embraced fast food; hamburgers, fries and pizza are ubiquitous throughout the country. At the same time, just as in many Western countries, vegetarianism is gaining in popularity amongst Iran’s middle class youth, as the social, environmental and health implications of eating too much meat become a wider cause for concern.
Young Iranians are developing their own contemporary food culture, creatively fusing the ingredients and cooking styles of Persian and Western food. This merging of the old and the new is one of the defining features of contemporary Iranian cooking, and many of the recipes in this book reflect this, offering a selection of ancient dishes from the Persian sofreh, reinterpreted for the modern kitchen.
Food to feed a crowd
As with many cultures, food plays an important role in social customs and traditions in Iran. At the heart of this is the concept of sharing food, which is central to the Iranian approach to eating. An Iranian would never simply reach into the fruit bowl and take a bite of an apple; instead, they would cut the apple into slices and offer it around the whole group, even if that meant there was only one slice left for them at the end. If that happened, they would simply start again with another apple from the bowl. Sometimes when I’ve been travelling on my own on a bus or a plane in Iran, people sitting nearby have offered me fruit and nuts, or some of their lunch – anything they have. Even if you have very little, it is important to share what you can, wherever you are eating, and this is one of the nation’s most charming traditions.
The communal spirit cultivated through food is found in other areas of Iranian life too. On the anniversary of the death of a loved one it is customary to make vast pots of a certain dish, perhaps a soup, or a sweet saffron and cinnamon rice pudding known as sholehzard, and deliver portions to all of your neighbours as nasri (a religious and symbolic food offering).
Festive feasts
Food symbolism also features heavily at Iran’s main cultural festival, Nowruz, the Iranian New Year. Nowruz is an ancient Zoroastrian celebration that marks the beginning of the Persian calendar and coincides with the spring equinox, which in the Western calendar falls on either the 20th or 21st March. Zoroastrianism is the 2500-year-old religion of Iran, steeped in mythology and symbolism associated with the element of fire. It is believed to be one of the world’s first monotheistic religions, and many of its beliefs and practices are deeply connected to nature, astronomy and the seasons.
The weeks before Nowruz are all about purification rituals as the whole nation embarks on a massive spring clean, decluttering their houses and cleaning them from top to bottom. Outside of the home, a pre-Nowruz frenzy hits the stores and markets, which are packed from early March with people buying new goods for the New Year.
On Char Shambe Soori, the last Tuesday before the festival, small bonfires are lit in people’s gardens or on the street. It is customary to gather with your family and jump over the flames, repeating ancient adages to cleanse yourself of any misfortune and impurities from the year before and prepare yourself for the year ahead. Symbolically, the fire takes away your yellow pallor (sickness) and feeds you its fiery red power, giving you vitality and strength for the New Year.
At the exact astronomical moment of the equinox, families gather in front of an auspicious, beautifully decorated Nowruz altar to see in the New Year together. This altar will always have seven symbolic objects on it, each beginning with the letter ‘S’ in Farsi, representing wishes for prosperity for the year ahead.
