Steven Shalowitz July 16, 2008

 

A foodie noshes his way around modern Iran

You think you’ll find tuna on a bagel in Iran?” my assistant Kathy asked as I shut down my computer for the next three weeks. I laughed. Finding my favorite lunch was the least of my concerns. I was, after all, traveling to a country that President Bush identified as one-third of the Axis of Evil.

I'd wanted to visit Iran for years to view its ancient monuments and to understand this country that was closed off to Americans for a generation. But there never seemed to be a good time, and now was no exception. There's been recent U.S. saber-rattling over the Iranian Revolutionary Guard's involvement in Iraq, and ever-pressing questions about Iran's nuclear capabilities and support for terrorist groups. That's not to mention the hateful pronouncements from its president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

See our slideshow of Iran: A Culinary Vision.

And yet, much to the consternation of family and friends, I was determined to go.

I was concerned for my safety, of course, but what would I eat in a country known as much for its meat and kebabs as for its exquisite carpets? Given that I follow Jewish dietary laws and eat only kosher meat, I expected to adopt a largely vegetarian and fish diet during my journey. Just in case, I stocked up on granola bars and packets of instant oatmeal.

I arrived in the middle of the night, and was met by immigration officials who took their time questioning and fingerprinting me. This lengthy welcome was instituted in response to similar treatment of Iranian nationals visiting the U.S. My guide, Cyrus, and Joseph, my driver, waited patiently until nearly 4:00AM., then dropped me at my new temporary home: the Laleh International Hotel, formerly the Intercontinental Hotel before the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Save for the Intercontinental trash bins in its guest rooms, the Laleh retains little vestige of its past.

After a few hours of rest, I returned to the lobby to meet Cyrus, Joseph and Carl, a Canadian artist and university professor who would prove to be a perfect travel companion. Though 66-years-old, Carl was hale and hearty, which he attributed to early rising, yoga and a meat-free diet. Knowing our food constraints, Cyrus took us to the Coffee Shop & Veggie Restaurant of the Iranian Artists Forum, a stone's throw from the former U.S. Embassy where American hostages were held for 444 days. They were released when Ronald Reagan took the Presidential oath of office on January 20, 1981. Today, with anti American slogans and murals painted on its outer walls – including the Statue of Liberty’s face rendered as a skull – the facility is home to the Den of Espionage museum.

See our slideshow of Iran: A Culinary Vision.

The Iranian Artists Forum is a world apart from politics and international intrigue. It hosts performances, film screenings, art exhibitions, lectures and the only vegetarian café of its kind in the country. It was opened eight years ago by Behrang Aman, now the restaurant manager, and professor Bozorgmehr Golbidi, a European-educated food industry expert and one-time Stockholm disco manager. The pair also oversees the only vegetarian supermarket in the country, where they make tofu and vegetarian cheese and prepare traditional Iranian dishes using meat substitutions.

"In Iran, people aren’t familiar with vegetarianism," Aman said, as he seated us on the terrace. "They think it’s only vegetables, so they’re surprised when they come here." The menu was indeed, a surprise, and we ordered the Lotus Set, which included rice, veggie stew, soup, salad, pakora (deep-fried vegetables), a slice of pizza, vanilla pudding and a fruit drink.

Over the next several weeks, my 2,100-mile Iranian adventure was as much punctuated by visits to magical sites and extraordinary encounters with warm and welcoming people, as it was by frequent culinary surprises. Joseph always seemed to know the most scenic rest stops, whether alongside a river or at a mountain pass. Spread out on the trunk of the car, he poured cups of cinnamon tea while Cyrus opened up a pouch filled with a mix of pistachios, walnuts, almonds, cashews, sultanas and dried mulberries. But the real jewels were apricots the size of silver dollars, chewy, sweet and moist. In Kermanshah, an ancient city 325 miles west of Tehran (and just 75 miles from the Iraqi border), we met several bakers who were eager to show off the local specialties. Naan berenji are round white cookies that melt in your mouth; naan gandi is sugar bread that went perfectly with the evening's tea.

That’s not to say that we ate only snacks. Fish kebabs and vegetable omelets were everywhere. Then there are dishes like ash-e reshteha soup of noodles, mint, beans, spices and ground vegetables with fried onions and yogurt; and dolmeh peppers stuffed with rice, beans and vegetables; and mirza ghasemi, a mixture of eggplant, tomato, egg and garlic. I reveled in the simplicity of steamed turnips and marveled at the number of rice dishes — one with dill, beans and garlic was a particular favorite — and the varieties of yogurts, whether plain, with shallots or with celery.

Desserts, too, were a pleasant surprise. Though I didn't take to the saffron- and rosewater-flavored treats, a Shiraz specialty called faludeh was more than enough for my sweet tooth. These starch-like noodles are made from rice or potatoes, and flavored with lemon juice and other toppings. Ma’joon is a mixture of milk, walnuts, banana, honey, nuts (including pistachios) plus cocoa and ice cream; some versions are topped with ground figs and coconut. I sampled hard candy made from the zesty zanjafil while waiting in an Isfahan carpet shop for my purchases to be wrapped. And there's nothing quite like eating halva in a country that's been making it for thousands of years.

But my biggest culinary surprise was yet to come. As it turns out, there are kosher butchers in Iran. They serve a community of between 11,000 and 20,000 Jews (estimates of Iran’s remaining Jewish population vary). In Tehran, Shiraz and Isfahan, I was invited to Sabbath dinners, which follow Friday night services at the synagogues. We started with the traditional prayer over wine (which though it was banned following the 1979 Islamic revolution, Jews are allowed to make for religious observances). In place of challah, the braided bread that's familiar to European Jews, was sangyak, a flat bread with holes. Dinner itself was a parade of dishes, starting with fresh fruit and followed by spicy beef stews, pungent chicken dishes and tadik, a layer of crispy rice that's taken from the bottom of the pan. Thanks to Cyrus and Joseph, I was able to impress my hosts with the food-related Farsi words, the most important being hoshmaz: "delicious."

Three weeks later, as my journey across Iran came to close, I thought back on the fascinating people I'd met and beautiful places I'd seen. But most of all, I remembered the food. On my last afternoon in Iran, I asked Cyrus and Joseph to drop me off at the grocery store down the street from the Laleh hotel. I wanted to pick up some Iranian tea and fig jam. When I unzipped my backpack, Cyrus peered inside.

I showed him my stash of emergency food--the granola bars and instant oatmeal. We laughed at my overabundance of caution as I removed the packages from my backpack. I needed to make room for all that I’d bought.

“As we say in the U.S.,” I said as I handed them over to my new friend ‘It’s like bringing sand to the beach’.”

See our slideshow of Iran: A Culinary Vision.

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