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400 pages, Hardcover
First published September 20, 2016





The world of Persian-influenced cuisine is a huge one, stretching over vast distances in time and space. [...] I firmly believe that through sharing food and food wisdom we can connect imaginatively and politically with people in other countries and situations. In the summer of 2012, I was thinking about the way in which the mainstream media causes people to demonize countries ruled by totalitarian regimes. I realized that it was time I wrote about Persian culinary tradition, to try to put a human face on the people of Iran, and to show the connection and contribution of Persian food culture to other cuisines and peoples in the region. (acknowledgments)
BORANI YE BADMJAN Another in the persian borani family, this combo of smoky eggplant with creamy yogurt and fried onions is a great addition to any meal. (eggplant borani)
There's a kind of reverence surrounding two of the breads of Iran. One is the classic breakfast bread called barbari, with a ridged browned top, and the other is sangak, the chewy, textured "pebble bread" that most often accompanies lunch and supper. [...] The traditional oven of a sangak bakery has a tall, narrow opening and inside the cavern of the oven is a wall of gravel sloping upward toward the back. Sang means stone or pebble in Persian, so sangak refers to bread baked on a bed of stones. [...] It's possible to make reasonable versions of both sangak and barbari in a home oven if you have a baking stone and, for making sangak, a supply of small stones [...] If you have a starter going, us it rather than the yeast and lengthen the proofing times as necessary. (Bread in Iran)
Ajika, one of the glories of the Georgian table, is a chile paste that comes in many versions: red and green, chile-hot or milder, thick and dense or else more liquid like salsa. What all ajikas share is that they are salty, delicious uncooked condiments made of peppers, herbs, and aromatics.
I loved the public transportation, because it was a chance to be thrown into a crowd of strangers, always an interesting experience in another country. Women were very welcoming and generous to me. We shared sunflower seeds and raisins, smiles, and gestural conversations that felt relaxed and intimate. (Iran Travel)
Tucked away in the Caucasus foothills above Lahich, in Azerbaijan, is a lovely Garden of Eden. I walked up there one morning in late September. The barberry and sea buckthorn bushes by the grassy track were laden with colorful berries, and sheep graze on the hillside. Around a curve in the path, I suddenly came upon several hundred, maybe more, mature apple trees loaded with fruit, apples in every shade from pale green-yellow through pink- and orange-tinged to deep, almost wine red. [...]
A horseman came by, his horse carrying large wooden panniers. We exchanged a quick "Salaam aleikum," and he cantered off. Sometime later, I heard a laboring engine, a strange modern sound in that peaceful orchard, and around the corner came an old Lada.
Several men emerged from the car. One of them, lean and bony, in his seventies, with a high-cheekboned face and a smile came over and shook my hand as he said, "Salaam." He invited me to join them [...]
We gathered dried bits of twigs and wood, and Ajdar, for that was the thin man's name, made a fire. As it burned down, he threaded pieces of lamb onto long, wide metal skewers, arranged two rocks on either side of the fire, and placed the skewers across the embers. He also buried some potatoes to cook in the coals. [...]
Soon Ajdar brought over the first skewer and slid the meat onto a plate. Then came the others, making a heap of beautifully grilled lamb that had been flavored only with salt. As we started eating, a man came walking down the hillside. It was the horseman who'd ridden past earlier. He too was included in the feast.
The readiness to share food and drink with a stranger is part of the culture in rural Azerbaijan, as it is in Georgia and Armenia. In North America and Europe, people seem to be less open, but in the Caucasus, a place where people have suffered a lot from war and change, there's a hospitable generosity. (Feasting in a Garden of Eden)
Late one spring afternoon, a friend and I made our way to dinner at the apartment of a family that I'd met only a week before [...]
In Georgia, an enormous effort goes into preparing food and laying a generous table for friends and family--and occasional strangers from afar like me. [...] Supper will be ready when it's ready, not at some exact preappointed time. The waiting time will pass with conversation and joking around. [...] The toasts, the joking, the food explanations (translated for me by my friend Tamar), and the shifting conversations during the meal were all part of an in-the-moment delight. To Georgians, what matters most is coming together to eat and drink, finding pleasure and warmth at the table. (Warmth at the Table in Tbilisi)
When I visited the lovely shrine of Shah Chirag in Shiraz, [...] I went through the curtained women's entrance [...] over the loudspeaker, a preacher was telling a story of the martyrdom of one of the imams, and as the story moved toward a tragic crescendo, many women burst out sobbing and rocked to and fro.
All this was happening in a place of light and beauty, with the black forms of the women reflected in fantastically complex mirrored tiling, a mosaic of triangles, squares, and diamond shapes that covered the walls and ceilings and gleamed and glinted in the light from glass chandeliers. The effect was dizzying, disorienting, and also thrilling in a way I can't explain. (Mirrors and Patterned Light)