Kuku sabzi: a recipe from home
this famous herb frittata is a spring classic
Dear friend,
I write to you as I munch on leftover Kuku Sabzi from my Nowruz pop-up. Thank you for being here. Happy spring!
To welcome in the season of rebirth, it is our tradition to eat all things green and herby for the final meal of winter. As a way to honor this tradition and share it with others, I have been serving Nowruz feasts around California, filled with bounties of herbs and love and a touch of spring.
This past month, my kitchen has been filled with so many piles of herbs and stacks of Kuku Sabzi. There is nothing quite like the aroma of fresh herbs or freshly fried kuku sabzi filling the air.
Kuku sabzi, “herb frittata,” is a beloved dish in Iran; it is green, vibrant, and simple to make, so you can often see it on many families’ Nowruz tables. Sometimes, it is filled with walnuts and barberries, which bring a special crunch and flavor to this dish. I really enjoyed serving this spring classic on every menu this month, and the feedback I received was heartwarming. Much like me, those I cooked with, were also drunkened by the scents of fresh herbs and baking kuku sabzi in the kitchen every time. I am very fortunate for that, because there was no way I could have gotten through all those herbs without the help of friends and volunteers.
No matter where I served Kuku Sabzi, friends and strangers were comforted by it. And I only have the beautiful herbs and the ancestors to thank for that. Thank you for the recipe(s).
We connect with our ancestors [and therefore to ourselves], through the ways we engage with food. This isn’t just a whimsical idea of mine—it’s woven into many different cultures around the world. Food rituals and traditions have long been a bridge between generations, a way to learn from those who came before us, honor them and the cycles of nature. Food is more than sustenance; It is a connector beyond borders and generations. It is a thread that ties us to our roots, a lifeline that carries stories, love, knowledge, and meaning across time.
If you have ever sat down during or before Nowruz, enjoying a bite of Kuku Sabzi, think about how many generations have had to engage in the same rituals and make the same dish, for you to to enjoy it today? How many generations of people has this recipe nourished?
How many bridges and oceans and lives has this recipe passed through to get to you? How many people, with how many stories, have made kuku sabzi to celebrate the new year and spring, for you to carry the same ritual, generations later, worlds away?
Recipe
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