Autumnal updates
A recap of summer events, menus, and adventures
Hello dear friends,
Happy belated autumn equinox. I hope you felt some moments of hope and ease during this challenging summer. And if not, I hope the autumn gifts you some of those moments.
Summers are often the busiest time of the year for me. Weddings, celebrations, and various events fill my calendar before I even start sensing the warmth of summer. This Summer, I was too busy working two jobs and moving through all the changes in my life over the past year. However, what held me the most during the summer was a sweet road trip with family and friends, as well as the few community events I organized from the heart.
In late July, we left the heat of Los Angeles and took a road trip to North-est parts of California. Our week was spent camping in the forest near Lassen and Mount Shasta. Beautiful lakes, breathtaking waterfalls, and creeks surrounded us. Under the light of the moon, the stars, and a meteor shower. It was such a gift to be surrounded by the magic of the earth, sharing meals with loved ones by the water. Experiencing the magic of the seasons together.
Each day, we had different people in charge of breakfast or dinner. We arrived in the evening and enjoyed delicious olovieh (potato salad) sandwiches made by my aunt and Sogol. On the first morning, Hossein made adasi, a lentil soup, and together with Scheherazade, they set up a Persian breakfast picnic table by the lake.
At night, Mekah made us kabob burgers over fire with roasted veggies like zucchini, eggplant, onions, and more. We inhaled it all with heaping spoonfuls of mast moosir after spending the whole day hiking the waterfalls and swimming in the lake. The next morning, I roasted sweet potatoes over the fire for breakfast. Lonoe brought this beautiful mulberry preserve that he had made from the mulberries he harvested, and I poured it all over a bowl of cottage cheese, topped it with pepitas and olive oil, and served it with lots of bread that I toasted over the fire per order. We left our campsite and drove further north into Burney Falls and Mount Shasta that day. Lonoe made us hot dogs with caramelized onions over the fire, and we enjoyed some chips dipped in yogurt as we cooked and prepared dinner.
We spent the heat of the next day dipping in and out of the icy cold waterfall, drinking tea, and lazing by the river.
I left the mountains feeling like I have found myself a little more. I spent the following week in Folsom and Oakland, visiting family and chosen family, and returned to Los Angeles quite refreshed.
Brunch with Cafe Maghreb
In mid-August, my dear friend Majda of Cafe Maghreb and I came together to host an Iranian-Moroccan brunch at the stunning Zizou, a French-Moroccan bar in LA. The owners of Zizou built everything themselves, and when you step in, you can feel that you are in a special secret oasis, with a beautifully tended garden of blooming flowers, fruit trees, and passionfruit vines. It is just such a wonderful place that I need you to visit, rather than relying on my description. And while you’re there, perhaps order the harissa braised short rib. You won’t regret it.
Majda and I developed a menu of our favorite breakfast items, inspired by our childhoods growing up in Iran and Morocco. We each came up with two dishes of our own and one collaborative dish. Mirza Ghasemi, a northern Iranian dish of smoky, garlicky eggplant, came together with Shakshuka to create what we called Mirza Shakshuka: eggs softly poached in a tomato sauce with fire-roasted eggplants, garlic, herbs, and Moroccan spices. Mirza Shakshuka was our collaborative dish. There were four more courses at brunch. We started with an heirloom tomato and harissa whipped cream cheese toast, marinated olives by Zeytoon Joon, fig jam and butter, plus a plate of panir sabzi/Persian breakfast with herbs, cucumbers, feta cheese, seasonal fruits, and nuts, served with fresh sangak.
Mirza Shakshuka followed this course, and we concluded with a two-course dessert: labneh orange blossom ice cream with honey-stewed plums and a cardamom cake by moi, alongside Baghrir, Moroccan semolina pancakes smothered in orange blossom honey and butter.
This was probably one of my favorite restaurant pop-ups. I love the nature of collaborative work and how it gives every creator a little more space to play. It feels more balanced, especially when working with the right people. Majda’s grounding presence and the magic of beautiful and welcoming Zizou made this a brunch to remember. If we did another brunch like this, what would you want to eat?
Persian Tea Nights: Autumn Equinox with Tea at Shiloh
To celebrate the final day of the summer and the arrival of fall, we gathered in ceremony at Tea at Shiloh. For these seasonal transition ceremonies, I set up an elaborate seasonal food altar and plan the evening's ritual based on the season. This whole evening was inspired by the quince tea that my grandma sent me from Iran. The quince is grated and dehydrated in copper pots, which lends a beautiful red tinge to the tea. When you brew the tea, it has the sweetness of the fruit, with a touch of autumnal warmth and a beautiful red hue. The tea is grounding, soothing, yet invigorating, and that is the intention I took with me for curating this evening. I brought some of this special quince tea, which was brewed with saffron and rose, and served throughout the night along with other teas blended by the tea fairies at the teahouse.
Some of the treats on the seasonal food altar included labneh with fig & fig leaf jam, cardamom bergamot cake, eggplant pomegranate dip, fresh bread, butter, honey, and jams, cucumber yogurt dip, noon panir sabzi, and a variety of nuts and fresh fruits of the season.
To honor the gift-giving ritual of Mehregan, a harvest festival and fading fall tradition from ancient Iran, we asked guests to bring an offering with them. The sweetest guests brought instruments, poems, and much more to share as their offerings. Alejandro, our Oud player, mainly known around LA as thedudewiththeoud, ran into his friend with whom he used to perform on the NYC subway years ago. Together, they performed beautiful songs, a performance of singing, dancing, and, of course, Oud. There were so many unexpected magical encounters like that that night, everyone said magic was the word of the evening.
People were brought together around the table from different parts of the country and even the world (!), to sit in ritual and connection with the earth, the seasons, each other, and therefore their own selves. We meditated in the candlelight, breathed together, and journaled to set our intentions for what we wish to shed or walk into in the new season with. We built a community altar with our offerings and our intentions. We danced into the night together to welcome in a season of ease and introspection.
Things are always changing.
I started this newsletter last spring as a birthday present to myself. I wanted to share my love of Iranian food with you and share thoughts and memories that did not fit into Instagram’s word limits and small grids. Growing up, I was always writing. I had a way with the words. I would let poetry books take me away into faraway lands for hours. Words were my muse, my escape, my being. I won teen awards for my short stories and was always the only one sharing my poetry in front of the classroom as I braved the tremble in my bones.
After immigration, I felt that I could neither write in Farsi nor English, so I didn’t write at all. I wrote nothing for years. During my survival years, I moved through the world like a lost deer, with no words and no destination. I wrote nothing those years, words clogging my throat until they came rushing back to me in every language. Jumbled and confusing, but I knew I had a lot to say.
I had a lot to share. And I cared a lot; I saw that I cared too much about the heart of things, about cuisine, produce, culture, poetry, and Iran. I care too much to shut it down. I care too much, and I can’t contain it, so I have to write. And it means the world to me that somehow, you care about my writing. You have found me in the massive world of the internet and the oversaturated world of Substack, and you stick around for one more poem or one more memory, and you care about saffron recipes as much as I do. So thank you for being here.
Things are always changing, and this space is changing too. Starting this season, I will be sending out one or more newsletters each month, instead of two or more. The monthly newsletter you receive will be longer, essentially consolidating the content of two newsletters into one, which may sometimes not fit in your inbox and may require you to use the app. I promise it will be worth it. Paid subscribers continue to receive a monthly recipe, with occasional extra recipes available to everyone, as always. Much of the content in the newsletters is free, featuring numerous free recipes along the way and lots of oversharing about my feelings. I believe the hard work of artists and recipe developers should not go uncompensated, and I am learning to value my own work. This is an attempt to share something I deeply care about in a way that is sustainable. And again, it means everything to me that you are here.
Whatever has brought you here, I am deeply grateful for your presence. I am so thankful to paid subscribers for supporting this newsletter and my livelihood. Your support makes it possible to share the gifts and flavors of Iran with everyone. Please consider a paid subscription if it is within your means; it will help this newsletter continue bringing you recipes and musings. And it will help me on my mission of bringing people together through the simple beauty of Iranian cuisine and hospitality.
I hope this newsletter has brought you some love and ease.
If you have made it this far, I hope you know how much you mean to me. As always, please share any thoughts or musings in the comments.
What do you wish to see from this space? What recipes do you want in your inbox? What do you dream of this fall? What are you welcoming into your life this season?