Gastronomie

Food, Life, Death & Being Iranian

^{Image courtesy of Peyman Meli}

It's self-evident why I'm writing this post today, I suppose. For two weeks, I have been watching, along with the rest of the world, the devastation in my homeland.

Some four years ago, I wrote these words:

"Nearly 70% of Iran's population is under the age of 30, and the median age is 23. That's an awful lot of young people who are champing at the bit for change."

While I am not surprised by what is happening in Tehran, I am shocked and saddened at its course.

I wouldn't have expected myself to be as gravely affected by the images, by the Tweets, by the words of the scholars and theologians who've been interviewed. I certainly did not expect to be this angry at or disappointed in President Obama, for whom I cast my first ballot ever. And to be honest, I kept it together fairly well until I finally watched the video of Neda Agha-Soltan's death. Since then, I find myself dissolving into tears frequently, and unable to process the myriad articles and blog posts and news stories. I mean that quite literally -- I read the same sentence over and over, keep rewinding the clips, and somehow the words just don't come together in any comprehensible way.

So I decided that since I can't control or comprehend or, frankly, deal with what's going on back home, I would make halva in honor of the brave, willful, hopeful Iranians who have spilled their blood in the streets while the Persian diaspora looks on.

We Iranians are a people for whom food is sacred. Like most ancient civilizations, we still eat dishes that have survived invasions, dynastic changes, and cultural revolutions. Our halva is quite different from those you are probably familiar with (which we call "halvardeh"). It's a sweet, slightly bitter, highly fragrant and somewhat dense paste, traditionally made and eaten during occasions of mourning -- wakes, memorials, even simply to honor a lost loved one. It seemed a fitting food to come from my kitchen these days.

Persian Halva

• 1 c. white granulated sugar
• 1/2 c. water
• 1/4 c. rosewater
• 3-4 threads good quality saffron
• 1 c. unsalted butter
• 1-1/2 c. white flour

1. Heat sugar and water in a saucepan, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Add the rosewater and saffron, cover and remove from heat.
2. Melt the butter gently over low heat; do not allow it to brown. Add the flour, stirring to create a "roux". Keep stirring (I use a wooden spoon) until it takes on a deep gold color and begins to smell quite nutty -- about 7-10 minutes*.
3. Slowly add the sugar syrup to the flour paste, stirring well to incorporate completely.
4. Turn the paste out onto a serving plate and press into place -- it should be about 1/3" or so thick. Press patterns into the halva using the back of a spoon or the tines of a fork. Allow to cool, and serve with hot tea.

*I like my halva with a little more color; if you prefer it sweeter and less "burnt" cook it a bit less. Just make sure to cook off the raw flour taste.

Nowruz-e-taan Piruz!

Yes, indeed. Tomorrow is the first day of Spring, which means that tonight at 10:48 Pacific Standard Time, we celebrate Persian New Year.

Last minute obligations are precluding us from making it to Los Angeles as we'd hoped, so I'm cobbling together a Haft Sinn from last year's provisions. It will do, though it can't possibly hold a candle to my mom's. Dinner tonight is the traditional Sabzi Polo Mahi -- my kid brother is braving the Persian market to pick up a smoked fish and green garlic.

We miss our family muchly, but in the past six weeks of living together, my brother and I have learned that we have each other through thick and thin, as different as we may be, and despite the decade separating us.

As we jumped over the fires last night, I couldn't help but think how different last year was -- all I wanted to do was leave the prior year behind, to move on, to purge the sadness and anger of the Persian year 1385. This year, I am thankful that 1386's hardships and sadness were all steps toward growth and strength. All the people I love are in a much better place, and the upcoming year can only build upon the foundation that is solidly in place.

To all of you who follow along every day, week, month -- you don't know how much your comments and emails mean. To each of you who has been a confidante and friend, thank you! And of my family in Los Angeles, I beg your forgiveness, for I know that our last minute cancellation has caused major disappointment. I love you dearly.

Nowruz-e-taan Piruz, Interwebs!

Tags: Persian, New Year, Nowruz, Nowrouz, Eid, Haft Sinn, San Francisco, Food & Drink

Saal-eh Now Mobarak!

At 10:25:35 am today, C and I will be drinking small glasses of scalded milk with a bit of sweet pastry to usher in the Persian year 1385.

At this moment, I am sitting here watching Appadana Television on KTSF (Channel 8 on Oakland Comcast), thinking back over the events of the past year.

It's been an odd year.

We were blessed with many new friends (two of whom quickly become life-long friends), a wonderful fostering experience, and  more than a few amazing meals.

We had a few life-changing experiences, from buying my first-ever-brand-new-car and making a wonderful job change to the receiving the devastating news of my dad's illness.

Like I said, an odd year.

Check back in a couple of hours, when I will post pictures of my Haft Sinn, which I put a bit of a modern spin on this year.

Also, I'll post a quick round-up of some Nowruz events in the Bay Area that you can check out if you are so inclined.

Nowruz-etan Pirouz!!