I had a friend, a true maverick who hitchhiked all the way from India to Europe back in the 1970s. He picked up all kinds of interesting things during his trip, and in that treasure trove was a recipe for an Iranian rice dish. It was a light rice-and-chicken dish, topped with nuts and raisins. When he came back to India, he often cooked it for us, and we couldn’t have enough of it. Now that he is no longer with us, I miss his unbending dedication to causes and that delightful chicken dish.
Iran is in the news, and while we debate war, ceasefire, and peace, I also think of Iran’s rich culture and, in particular, its cuisine. When I was a young man, I had quite a few Iranian friends. They were studying in India, and took part in many rallies against the Shah regime. But those were tumultuous times, and we spoke of many things, but not so much about food. My introduction to its cuisine — apart from the friend’s chicken pilaf — was curiously through a dish made popular by a restaurant called Peter Cat in Kolkata. If you ever tell anyone from the city that you had a meal at the restaurant, you’d certainly be asked: Did you have their chelo or chelow kebab? The first time I had it, I shuddered to think what the Iranians would make of it. But on subsequent visits, I quite enjoyed the fragrant rice, served with seekh kebabs and tikkas.
Iran has links to the cuisine of a swathe of regions — from Central Asia and Greece to Turkey and Russia. The Levant region has common flavours. And Indians, too, are acquainted with many of their dishes. While there are a great many Irani cafes in parts of India, Irani food is sadly not readily available across the country. We do have eateries that specialise in Parsi food, and while that has its own characteristics, the cuisine shares a legacy with Iran, of course. Take the much-loved Parsi dish, berry pulao.
Iran’s zeresh polo, like the berry pulao, is a dish of long-grain rice cooked with saffron and nuts, and layered with barberries (zereshk). Barberries are dried berries, sweet and tart, which are sauteed and then added to the rice. Polo, like our pulao, is the word for rice cooked with other ingredients — sabz polo, for instance, is rice steamed with a variety of herbs. Plain rice, like our chawal, is called chelow (hence the name, chelow kebab).
What makes Iranian food so special is the subtlety of the flavours; the food is cooked with just a few spices. Saffron threads are often used for colour and flavour. Cumin is a basic spice, as is turmeric. Sour lime and sumac — a spice made from dried and ground berries of the sumac plant — add flavour. Pomegranate seeds adorn a dish. Walnuts are added for crunch and taste. Fruits infuse a sweet touch to many recipes. Take fesenjan, a sweet-and-sour, slow-cooked khoresh or stew, cooked with minced meat, etc, and served over rice.
Just a few days back, while trying to find a gripping police procedural show on the telly, I suddenly found myself straying into an Iranian feast. It had no dialogues, but the elaborate video told me that a great meal of chicken, meat, rice, and vegetable dishes was being prepared.
Huge mounds of meat were cleaned, sliced, and cooked in large cauldrons. A master chef, helped by his assistants, fried the onions and the meat, adding sumac and saffron to it. Elsewhere, women meticulously chopped vegetables. At a distance, I could see a row of empty tables, covered with a pristine white cloth, waiting for the dishes to make an appearance. I was miles away, but felt like I had been invited to the feast. I could even get a whiff of the aromatic rice!
— The writer is a food critic
