You’ve heard the saying “if you can’t stand the heat get out of the kitchen”? As far as advice goes, this one sounds somewhat aggressively charged but also particularly apt with this heat wave as the mere thought of cooking on the stove (and please let us not even mention the oven) is appalling.

Mindful of the heat, the next few recipes at Fig & Quince will focus on easy breezy recipes that will revive the mortal flesh, refresh the immortal spirit, and best of all require minimal (if any-at-all) visits to the dreaded stove. A series that we’ll call: “Recipes for a Heatwave.” Let’s toast to this development with a cheerful glass of chilled watermelon juice. Beh Salamati!

The first of our heatwave recipes, a simple and traditional summer-time fare in many an Iranian (be it ever so humble or grand) household, is “noon’o panir’o-hendonneh,” or literally: “bread an’ cheese an’ watermelon.” That is a mouthful (pun not intended.) So maybe we can just call it a watermelon sandwich? A free-spirited (unconfined by the tyrannical bounds of bread!) deconstructed watermelon sandwich? A stream-of-consciousness sandwich?

Point is: you eat it as you please, and there is no cooking – merely prep and assemblage. The key step is to make sure the watermelon is chilled. Warm watermelon is like a bad kiss – it just makes you sad, and why bother. So chill that watermelon! Other than that, gather your feta cheese (goat cheese makes an excellent substitute,) walnuts, fresh mint, and bread, and get ready to construct a hands-on lunch that is light, cold-yet-cozy, crunchy, juicy, fragrant, and refreshing.

Ingredients

• Watermelon (thoroughly chilled)
• Bread (ideally flat bread or lavash)
• Feta cheese (or goat cheese)
• Walnuts (coarsely chopped)
• Fresh mint

Preparation

1. Make as many watermelon wedges as you see fit and place in a big serving bowl.
2. Fill a small serving bowl with coarsely chopped walnuts. Fill another small bowl with feta cheese (cut into one inch or larger cubes.)
3. Trim stems of fresh mint. Wash, rinse, and gently pat dry (no rough handling or you’ll bruise the tender-skinned mint.) Arrange in a heap on a small plate.

Serving

Make a bite-size feta and walnut sandwich. Munch. Alternate with taking bites of watermelon. Nibble on the fresh mints in between. Or just wrap everything in bread and munch. There are no rules. It is strictly up to you and your taste buds.

Make it, eat it, and noosheh jaan!

Khorma is the Persian word for “date” and aloo is the word for “plum.” Put them together (khorma + aloo) and clap your hands and you get: khormaloo!  (Who knew that the Brangelina, Bennifer modern craze of mushing names together has a precedent in ancient Persia?)

Khormaloo is pretty popular in Iran.  My parents certainly relished it, I recall vividly, but I counted this fruit as foe.  The first time I tried one it did truly awful things to my tongue and I was done – it was over between us.  (My thought process went something like:  “It’s not me, it’s YOU, khormaloo!  And we’re never ever ever getting back together. Like ever!” Why, yes, I had a thought process set to a hit soundtrack in the future.  Didn’t you?)

I now trace this childhood chagrin to eating an unripe persimmon, which as everyone-in-the-know knows, is a surefire way to go off persimmons for good.

I certainly anticipated a lifelong grudge.  And I was on guard.

But for the past few months, I couldn’t help but take note of the heaps of persimmons abundantly evident in my Brooklyn neighborhood’s markets.  There they were:  cute, round, orange — and they winked at me in greeting.  “Charmed, I’m sure” I would nod back in greeting, but only to be polite mind you, without breaking my stride to heed their beckoning. I  had not forgotten our hate-affair.

But the thought of writing about them crossed my mind and eventually became an irresistible nuisance.  So I went and bought a handful.  3 for a dollar?  Sold!

And there we were.  Me and my fruitenemy.  We met again.  At long last.

Before continuing, I’ll have to get technical here.  There are two types of persimmon commonly sold in the U.S.:  Fuyu and Hachiya.  The persimmons pictured here are of the Fuyu variety that are round and in a hurried glance pass off as tomato dopplegangers.   Hachiya persimmons, not pictured, have a pointy acorn shape.  Both types of persimmons benefit from being ripe, but with a Hachiya you really, really have to allow it to get ripe before you partake, otherwise you are in for a world of hurt.  A world. Of hurt.

Are you confused?  Join the club!  Here’s a simpler way to straighten this whole thing out.  A Fuyu persimmon can sit on its butt because its butt is flat, but a Hachiya can’t because its butt is pointy.  If a persimmon can’t sit on its butt, it is a Hachiya and therefore you MUST allow it to fully ripen.  (You are very welcome for this logical and refined clarification.  Bringing elegance to blogging — that’s our motto here at Fig & Quince.)

Going back to our story, here’s what happened with the Fuyu persimmons I bought:

I waited for them to ripen – to grow soft to the touch.  It took a few days for one and longer than that for the others.  (During that time, they made a fetching still-life tableau — alone and with others.  In particular, I enjoyed persimmons and primrose.  A tongue twister!)

Once ripened – I ate one Persian style.  (It tasted delicately sweet, with a texture that is syrupy and also reminiscent of a dense, pulpy banana. It was not the stuff of horror I recalled.  It was:  nice.)

Here’s how you eat a persimmon Persian style:   cut the top with a sharp paring knife, admire the gorgeous hue, dig in with a little spoon, and scoop and scrape until you are done.

I made smoothies with the rest of the persimmons.  That:  was delicious!  Highly recommend it.

Personal conclusion: I’m still not a passionate fan but no longer a foe, and ultimately appreciate the delicate enchantment of a good ripe persimmon. There are many amazing recipes for these orange sirens -everything from a beautiful persimmon salad with pistachios to a persimmon margarita (want!) to a pear and persimmon crumble (YUM!) – and now as I continue down the path of this illusory life, I resolve to sprinkle future autumn and winter fares with some inventive and novel uses of persimmon.

I also have to add that after reading up on persimmon in the course of writing this post, it really does seem like persimmon is a fruit (technically a berry, ahem) just about to burst out on the scene and make it big time.  Big!

Question is: do you like persimmons?  Do you have a favorite persimmon recipe?

While you ponder this, I’ll leave you with a link to an atmospheric picture (conducive to a contemplative reverie) I found online of a persimmon tree growing in someone’s actual backyard in Tehran. (This backyard has a lot of goodies growing there. So charming.  I imagine the occupants to be quiet book-loving sorts of people who enjoy the simple pleasures of life.  Including a good cup of tea every afternoon.)

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Once you’ve awakened from your reverie, here are some fun extracurricular readings on the subject of persimmons for your amusement – if you are so inclined:

The NY Times praises the persimmon (Praiseworthy article.)

Smithsonia magazine:  5 ways to eat persimmon (A persimmon salad with pomegranates! A persimmon margarita? I’m so there!)

10 amazing ways to bake with persimmon (Some of these are truly amazing. Worth a browse for sure.)

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Khoda hafez till next time.

When starting this blog, a little fellow (let’s call him Felfeli) graciously agreed to lend his charming presence to Fig & Quince on select occasions.  In fact, he inaugurated our place-holder post.  A good luck charm if there ever was one.

Despite being on the wan & sluggish side after a bout with a bad cold, Felfeli accepted the mission of demonstrating how to eat a pomegranate, 2 ways — Persian Style!!  Jazz hands! — with aplomb.  We sat about our task with measured vigor and somber panache.  A boy, his dinosaurs, his aunt, a pair of pomegranates, and a couple of green tomatillos for good measure (because, why not, tomatillos are pretty, and they taste, oh my God, delicious, a revelation!)

In this, Part I of our anâr odyssey, Felfeli and I will cover the “doon kardan” deseeding technique; and will follow up with the irreverent fun-for-the-whole-family āblamboo style in Part II.  [Note: There will be a goodly amount of words and an ungodly number of pix in these posts, so if you are one of those “just-the-facts-ma’am” folks or part of the TLDR crowd, wait for the Cliff Notes Pictorial Guide, coming your way on Friday.]

And now – let the Persian Style Pomegranate Magical Mystery World Tour commence in earnest.

• You will need:  a fresh pomegranate, a cutting board, a sharp paring knife, a big bowl, and you’ll probably want to wear an apron.  (Dinosaurs: optional.)
• Wash the pomegranate quite well.  Wipe dry.

• Place the pomegranate on a cutting board.  Using a sharp paring knife, cut off the top and bottom of the pomegranate.

During this time you may:

• With your paring knife, delicately yet with force (it’s a poetic balance) score 1/2 inch crisscross indents into the top and bottom of the pomegranate.

• Place a big bowl in a sink.  Don your apron if you haven’t done so already.
• Holding your pomegranate low inside the bowl, gently tug it apart in half by pulling at the indented scored seams.  Take each half and (once again pulling at the scored seams) pull apart to halve again. Finally, take each quartered piece and pull back with your hands to persuade it to snap in half pieces.  (You should now be left with about 8 pieces, plus some adventurous arils that may have jumped out of the membrane pockets. Also, don’t worry about staining your fingers, a cold rinse and it all comes off.)

• Take a quartered piece, peel back the membranes, then start using your fingers to persuade the arils to dislodge. Pop them out! (Felfeli demos his mad aril-popping skills in this short vimeo.)

Gather yer anâr arils (picking out any stray bits and pieces of membrane or pulpy skin and discard) and put them in a nice fresh serving bowl.

Eat with either abandon or restraint but with relish for certain.  Traditionally, in old-timey Iran, people would sprinkle golpar (ground angelica powder) over anâr seeds.  I’m a fan of many culinary Persian traditions and rituals, but I have to admit, I am not terribly fond of the smell nor flavor of this spice, so I pass. Felfeli wasn’t a fan either. But give it a try and judge for yourself as most of these old-timey traditions usually have their roots in genius nutritional or digestive secrets.

So this is how you seed a pomegranate Persian style – a process called anâr doon kardan.  It may look complicated but it’s quite simple really once you get the hang of it.

It does take a fair bit of patience but a pomegranate is such a gorgeous fruit and it tastes so good that surely to treat yourself to its goodness you can get in a zen frame of mind and enjoy the deseeding proess — right?

If not, good news, there is a lazy and fun way to enjoy a pomegranate – a patented Persian method enjoyed by young and old and one that is safe to say every kid will want to try – called anâr ‘eh āblamboo.  Felfeli was delighted!

How does āblamboo–style pomegranate work, you ask?  You’ll have to stay tuned for the juicy Part II coming you way a on Wednesday to find out.

Felfeli and I bid you a fond Khoda hafez till then.

Last time, Felfeli and I showed you how to deseed a pomegranate in a simple Persian process of doon kardan that calls for a modicum of technique and a measure (more than a soupçon, smidgen less than too much) ) of patience.

For those souls entirely scornful (or bereft) of patience, or in any manner pressed for time, there’s another Persian technique (a quick and lighthearted one) of enjoying a pomegranate that is known as: āblamboo. 

The āblamboo method is a good way to get the taste, juice and goodness of a pomegranate without any of the hassles of the peeling, cutting, deseeding, and chewing.  I mean, who in the world has time to chew?

How does it work?  Instructions and pictorial guide follows.

You’ll need: a (preferably cold just-out-of-the-fridge) pomegranate, a cutting board, a sharp knife, brute force.

Here’s how it works:

• Wash the pomegranate, dry it, and place it on a cutting board or a counter.
• Proceed to press and squeeze the everlasting life out of the pomegranate – literally crushing the seeds –  but at the same time don’t overdo it or else it will puncture.  (This: is a mindful balancing act. Not as perilous as the Man on Wire, but somewhat proximate.)  Roll the pomegranate and continue pressing it on every side, every inch.  Continue this press-roll-squish business until the pomegranate feels quite malleable in hands.  (Tip: use the cushiony pads of your fingers and avoid digging in your nails.)
• At this point, a sensitive operation is called for.  Rest pomegranate on a cutting board and with the tip of a sharp knife, poke a small (1/2″ approximately) and somewhat deep puncture in the skin.  A good bit of red juice may flow out. Do not be alarmed but proceed IMMEDIATELY to the next step.
•  Pick up the pomegranate, press your mouth to the opening, and while continuing to squeeze the pomegranate between palms, suck/drink the juice.  (Basically you’ve turned the pomegranate into a “bottle” and the puncture you made, is the bottle’s opening.)  Drink until you can’t get anymore juice out by pressing.

And this is how you get an āblamboo pomegranate.  (You may now appreciate why in colloquial Farsi a person might say they are āblamboo when they are exhausted and drained of all life force.)

Felfeli had never seen it done before and he loved the āblamboo pomegranate.  Most kids will probably similarly enjoy doing this – seeing as there is a good bit of fun exertion followed by the instant gratification of enjoying the wholesome, healthy and delicious pomegranate juice.

I personally would not endorse the technique on a regular basis – particularly with nice fresh pomegranates as it would be a bit wasteful – but I do appreciate the āblamboo once in awhile when too lethargic for doon kardan a pomegranate or when left with a pomegranate that is somewhat past its prime. I particularly relish it when needing a fun pick-me-up, as for whatever reason, the juice of an āblamboo anâr gives a super invigorating shot-in-the-arm boost.  (Once upon a time it feels euphoric even.  I’m not kidding – honestly.)

And there you have it.  (The Cliff Notes Pictorial Guide to how deseed a pomegranate, as promised to the TLDR crowd in Part I, will be up on Friday.)

Felfeli takes his leave and waves a very fond goodbye.  We do hope to persuade him to come back again sometime.  Maybe to teach Rice 101?

Until next time, please go eat an anâr (filled with antioxidants) and khoda hafez.

For your viewing pleasure:  Cliff Notes for  “anâr doon kardan” — as promised.

So you probably think that after a week-long pomegranate-palooza here at Fig & Quince that we’d finally be done with it. But I have to gently break it to you … no!  We’re not.  (Didn’t you know, Persians are crazy about pomegranates!  This fruit has left an indelible imprint on not just the cuisine but also the art and poetry of Iran. It is a love affair.)

On that note, expect a post on khoresh ‘eh fesenjoon ( a ridiculously delicious walnut & pomegranate-syrup concoction) coming your way in a week or so; and just prior to that, we’ll have a special post for making your very own homemade pomegranate syrup!  (Recipe courtesy of the talented and imaginative cook, Suzanne of apuginkitchen.  Isn’t that wonderful?)

Until then, go and doon or āblamboo a pomegranate and let it race through your bloodstream with its delicious anti-oxidants.

And oh yes, Dowager Countess Violet Crawley commands me to tell you to have a great week end, whatever that is.

Rob’ eh anar, or pomegrante syrup (also referred to as pomegranate molasses or concentrate or paste) is a staple ingredient in Persian cooking.  My mother has never made it herself from scratch and since her mother’s time, she tells me, the custom has been to just buy store-bought. I geeked out therefore when I found out that friend and intrepid cook Suzanne makes her own and got her recipe, which I’m delighted to share with you – as you see above – in her very own words. Thank you Suzanne!

Homemade is best but there’s something to be said about the convenience of store-bought as well.  Caveat emptor:  the flavor and color of roe’beh anâr varies somewhat significantly from brand to brand.

After experimentation with various labels, my mother swears by the Golchin brand which she finds to have just the right balance of sweet and tangy flavor.  She also likes its rich dark color, specially for making fesenjoon.

Myself, I use the Cortas brand, and, whoa Nelly, it is super tangy, but I don’t mind, and I like the fact that it is made without sugar.  I just use it sparingly, and if I lose my head and go overboard, compensate with adding some sugar to balance the flavor.  The color is alright.  No complaints.

Point being:  try a few till you find a brand you can see yourself growing old with.

The famous khoresh ‘eh fessenjoon, made with crushed walnuts and pomegranate syrup, will be posted next and that will (finally!) conclude our all-pomegranates-all-the-time programming around here and instead will switch to barraging you with all-Norooz-all-the-time coverage.

If all goes well, I hope to have some special recipes for you (maybe sholeh zard) and to also share things like “shaking your house”, “fire-jumping”,  growing grass and then callously throwing it out in a fortnight, getting gold and giving respect, and of course,  making a spread of the Seven Persian Seen’s, and the food, oh all the glorious food.  All part and parcel and among the threads that together, since ancient times of ‘yore, have made up the traditions and celebration of the first day of spring and seeing in a new year in Iran.

Until then, zubizubizou

Pictured here is what we call chaghal’eh badoom in Iran — known as fresh (or green or spring) almond here in the U.S., that is if you can find it.   Nestled inside its fuzzy green hull lies the young skinless almond, sleeping the sleep of the just – not yet hardened and soft in texture.

Chaghal’eh badoom arrives on the scene in early spring in Iran for a mere few weeks — greeted virtually by delighted clapping of hands — just like its kindred spirit and friendly rival, the other favorite Persian bounty and symbolic synonym of spring:  goje sabz.

You remember goje sabz, right?  Unripe sour green plums:  juicy, tart, crisp and crunchy. You snack on them raw, crunch munch munch crunch, sprinkled lightly with salt.  How do you eat chaghal’eh badoom you ask?  You eat it like so:

That’s right!  You eat the whole kit and caboodle.  Only the stem remains!  Chaghal’eh badoom is crunchy with a soft center, tastes somewhat like a quite tartly-delicious apple, and makes for a very refreshing and nutritious (not to mention addictive) snack that is also wonderful in a salad or as a garnish to brighten up a meal. 

I recently met someone who informed me that in Turkey it is customary to pile a plate high with spring almonds and eat them (sprinkled with salt) while drinking beer.  Which actually makes perfect sense taste and texture wise — I can imagine that the accompaniment of sat and crunch and fresh burst of tangy flavor is a very pleasant chaser for beer.  I predict that a hip NY or Brooklyn bar will get wind of this soon enough and offer these !

Goje sabz and chaghal’eh badoom are also used to make khoresh and preserves and some-such in Iranian cuisine but since they are scarcely available here, I am reluctant to cook them and prefer to enjoy them in their natural glory and savor their unique refreshing burst of taste and ultra-satisfactory crunch that needs nary an embellishment save for the sprinkling of some salt.

Who knows how the idea of eating unripe almonds and unripe plums got started but whoever got the ball rolling created a fad that has lasted for thousands of years!  Once you experience the fresh and crunchy taste of the spring almond and sour green plum for yourself I reckon you’ll jump on the bandwagon as well.

That’s it!

Happy Earth Day. Life is our gift. Earth is our home.

ps.  Coming attractions:  Halva (a type of Persian sweet that is made with rosewater and cardamom and other nice things) recipe post + how to make homemade rosewater!  Stay tuned.

I’ll give you a few hints about what’s in the bag …

• First hint: it’s not a sheep that will eat baobab tree shrubs.
• Another hint: it’s edible.  At least, it’s supposed to be.
• Third and final hint: it’s in the bag for a purpose and not as an idle loafer.

So! Any ideas?  What in the world do you think is in the bag?

Ready or not …

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here it comes

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TA DA!

Now that you see what’s in the bag, do you know what it is?

If you do, you have one on me. Because until last week when I traipsed over to Sahadi’s (to buy chickpea flour, I’ll tell you another time why) I had never laid eyes on such a thing. I thought maybe they were plums at first.The nice dude working there joked that they were olives (I believed him!) but then confessed they were dates. Dates! Young fresh dates – grown in California and imported to Brooklyn.

He invited me to sample a taste and I happily took him up on it and bit into one and it was … not good! Raw and sour and that astringent type of taste that makes your mouth pucker, just like an unripe persimmon might. Still, how could I go home without my very own super-cute twine of dates? As a garden-deprived urban dweller, any hint or simulation of proximity to nature and our mother earth is a beguiling prospect. Plus, the guy told me I could put the dates in a paper bag and let them ripen, just like you would with a banana.

This is how the dates look after hanging out in their paper bag cocoon (tight dark quarters but rent stabilized) for 7 days:

a little bit wrinkly,

a little bit softer,

and frankly (but sssh, don’t tell them I’m saying this) a little bit worse for the wear;

and when I bite into one: still astringent and puckery! DARN IT!

Even though dates are used in Iranian cooking, I’m stomped as how to use these tart young ones. We do have a yummy lentil rice called adas polo that can be layered with sauteed raisins and dates; and there are these Kermanshahi soft-cakes called “kooloocheh” (isn’t that the cutest word?) that have a date paste filling (God do I miss eating those; when my father’s family visited Tehran they’d sometimes bring some as soghati aka gift ); and of course there’s a delicious and simple Persian sandwich or loghmeh called noon va panir va khorma that’s made by pairing dates and feta and a soft lavash type bread that goes oh so nicely with hot tea and is a perfect winter time lunch fare; and there is an almsgiving tradition of donating trays filled with pitted dates stuffed with almonds; and awhile ago I found a very interesting Iranian recipe for a date torshi (alas it entailed a deal-breaking step so thank you but no thank you) but I can’t think of any Persian recipes for fresh dates.

Internet to the rescue! I Googled “what to do with young dates” — a search query that seems rather perversive and suspect, ha ha — and landed on a cool Taste Spotting blog post with a recipe for candied dates with cardamom, which actually sounds quite awesome but more suitable for winter and also I’ve been making a ton of moraba and sharbat recently for an upcoming non-profit event and I am kind of over making syrupy things for the moment and instead would vastly prefer to make this fabulous-sounding Asian pear, fresh date and pomegranate salad – that is if my dates play along and go ahead and ripen. I’ll give it a few more days.

So, as of now, the dates go back to their paper bag residency and their future is in limbo. Any tips or tricks for encouraging the dates to mature and grow up already and/or recipe suggestions are most welcome.

Meanwhile, dates do their daily cardio.

Dates need their endorphins too after all.

ps My mom tells me that in the olden days people would give these yellow dates to babies as a teething toy! Were they trying to kill the poor babies with the astringent puckery taste?  I wonder out loud.  My mom gives me a negaheh aghel ander safih (the look one gives when dealing with a particularly foolish person) and says:  “Azita ‘ye azizam (which means ‘my dearAzita’ and oops, I’m in trouble when she calls me that) ours tasted very good and was soft and sweet.”  OK! This fool stands corrected! But California dates can learn a lot from their Persian cousins is all I’m going to say.

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Left to Right: Sharbat, torshi, moraba, marmalade. Made with foraged zoghal akhteh.

Recently, a dear and too-long-no-see cousin (my pessar amoo to be exact) came for a visit to New York and after a day of expedition in the city thrilled us all by showing up with a foraged harvest of the beauties you see in the picture below. Leave it to an out-of-town explorer to unveil the secret delights of your city!

Washed Cornelian Cherries – About to be Preserved

If you have to ask, “what the heck are these?” you are certainly not of Persian persuasion. If, however, when looking at this picture your mouth waters and you are all at once covetous, excited, and deeply curious as where this loot was found — you are almost certainly a hyphenated or sans-hyphen-Iranian in diaspora.

zoghal akhteh – a treat for birds and for Iranians

A popular summer fruit called zoghal akhteh in Iran, this berry-like fruit (dubbed “Cornelian Cherry” in the West) is rarely if ever eaten in the U.S. — and then, mostly by the birds! Unless foraged by Iranian, Russian, Turkish, or Eastern European enthusiasts who have since the ancient times enjoyed its goodness.

Cornelian Cherry’s taste is a combination of tart and floral – hard to describe. The less ripe it is, the harder the flesh and more astringent the flavor, but when dark red and ripe, it is more sweetly floral than tart and has a soft mushy texture.

In Iran, zoghal akhteh is mostly enjoyed as a fresh fruit – sometimes sprinkled with salt; and it is also sold dried (tasting like a tangy combination of raisins and cranberry) which is a very popular snack to munch on. Zoghal akhteh is also preserved and turned into sharbat (floral or fruit-based Persian syrups that are diluted with ice cold water to make fabulous summertime drinks) and moraba (jam) and marmalade and torshi (pickles.)

The zoghal akhteh torshi or pickle is exceedingly simple to prepare and does not require a recipe so much as an assemblage direction:

• Fill a sterilized jar 3/4th of the way with berries of (ideally) the same size, color, firmness and ripeness. (Trick: if yours are unripe, puncture berries a few times with a toothpick, they will soften when marinating in vinegar.) Add a pinch of dried mint (optional) and fill with your pickling vinegar of choice. (The plain old Heinz white vinegar I used works fine, although it’s a tad too harsh for my taste.) I added a very small clove of garlic as well, but in hindsight advise against its use, as even that little amount of garlic dominated and diminished the aroma of the Cornelian cherry.
• Seal and store in a cool dark place. Best after 1-2 weeks but it can also be enjoyed within a day. Makes a good sidekick for rich & robust meals or sandwiches.  (Note: Cornelian cherry has a good sized pit. Exercise caution and contain exuberance when enjoying the pickle.]

With the remainder of my beautiful bounty of zoghal akhteh, I made a divine bottle of sharbat; several jars of meh-but-not-too-bad moraba aka jam; and a batch of pretty, pink, and delicious marmalade.  Respective recipes to follow in separate posts later this week, so keep your eyes peeled.

Thank you Khashayar!

غوره unripe grapes | an intriguing staple of Persian cuisine

This post is dedicated to the memory of Doctor پ . A wonderful physician, musician, family friend, and all around lovely gentleman whose presence was a boon to all who knew him and who will be dearly missed. May he rest in peace.

♠

Recently I made a short and sweet trip home for a visit with my folks when among other things my mom made this and this and also did this; and when I got to hang out with Azi2 and also got to go to a do’reh (a regular monthly-or-so Persian get-together among friends who take turns hosting) and have a fun visit with a host of dear and old family friends who I had not seen in a good while. Some of my favorite people in the world. Sight for sore eyes! A true pleasure!

My folks live in the DC Metropolitan area and while it is by no means the new Tehrangeles, there are a good number of establishments where one can grab a quality Persian chow, be it polo khorosh or kashk ‘e bademjan or bastani and reportedly even very good Armenian pirooshki. There are also several good Persian grocery stores scatterd in the area, including a smallish but quite good store near my parents where one does seem to find most everything required to run a respectable Persian household, from kashk to various types of Persian bread to halva ardeh to — as I was thrilled and squealed to find stashed in the fridge — stalks of perky unripe grape clusters!  Or what we Persians call ghoreh غوره. (Query: The wine aficionados amongst us may perhaps identify a better name for “unripe grapes”?)

Gentle reader: you may by now have a noticed a pattern with Iranians and their love of unripe fruit and: it’s true!  Be it unripe almonds (chaghaleh badoom چاقاله بادوم ), unripe green plums (gojeh sabz گوجه سبز), and now unripe grapes — which are usually picked halfway before maturity.

Are you familiar with that classic Aesop fable of the fox and sour grapes? The story was well known in Iran as well. But what the roobah didn’t know and Persians have known since times of ‘yore is that sour grapes can be quite wonderful!

A staple of the Persian pantry, unripe sour grapes (ghoreh: غوره) and verjuice (or abghoreh: the tart juice of unripe grapes) is used as a chashni (taste, flavor) to add a bright but gentle tartness and deepen flavors in khoresh (Persian stews) and abghusht and tas kabob and āsh (thick hearty Persian soups.)

Khoresh Ghoreh Badejman | Persian eggplant stew with sour grapes

Fresh sour grapes have a very fleeting season – a few weeks late in spring – so to preserve ghoreh’s goodness for use throughout the year, Persians had several tricks up their sleeves.

One that we’ve already touched upon is juicing the ghooreh to make abghoreh or verjuice. (Fun linguistic fact, the word verjuice comes from the French words verjus which literally means green juice!) Maman says in the olden days before the availability of store-bought verjuice there was a whole ritual where each family would purchase as much of sour grapes as was within their needs or means and then wash and crush the grapes and store the extracted abghureh in a cool dark place in a very specific type of glass bottle with a long narrow neck — that could then be used as chashni the whole of winter.

Another method was to dry out the ghureh and then grind it into a powder (gard ‘e ghoreh گرد غوره) form; or, they would pickle the unripe grapes (in verjuice, or in salty water); and of course now in modern times, ghoreh can be frozen for later use.

Ghureh is extremely beneficial for various health problems. Rheumatism and diabetes among them. Maman tells me a story that when she was growing up, there was a doctor named “Hakim Abghureh” (literally: Doctor Sour Grape Juice! Ha ha!) named thus because whoever went to him with ailments would be prescribed ash ‘e abghureh (a verison of Persian thick hearty soup made with plenty of verjuice) to clear and clean out the stomach and intestine as the good hakim believed that all diseases gather in the stomach and the intestines!

Unless you are a wiley fox not interested in sour grapes, below are directions for making your own: verjuice; ground sour grapes; pickled sour grapes; and the best method for freezing these tart fleeting gifts of summer.

Starting point applicable to all methods of preserving sour grapes: pick mushy, discolored bits and discard.

How to make your own homemade verjuice (abghoreh): First question what drives you to have this urge? Ha ha. Kidding, ’tis a labor of love and one’s inner Martha must be appeased from time to time. Be warned however that it takes nearly 10 pounds or more of sour grapes to make one mediums sized (if that) bottle of verjuice, and sour grapes, harvested here in the U.S. in California, do not come cheap. (Mom reported she got hers for $7 a pound.) In any event, if you’re determined to pursue this crafty course of action, try to to purchase the juicier looking of sour grapes that’s available to you. Remove grape from stalk, wash well, then juice sour grapes in a juicer. (It’s preferable not to make verjuice using a food processor or a blender since those machines will grind the grape seeds as well thus giving verjuice a bitter tang that is far from ideal.) Pass the pulpy juice through a sieve and use immediately.

To preserve verjuice for later use you, boil verjuice in a pot for a few minutes. Remove from heat, add a bit of salt, allow to cool, then store in dry sterilized bottles. Tip: If possible, it’s best to use one-serving-size small bottles when storing homemade verjuice.

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How to make your own homemade ghoreh preserve to use throughout the year: Remove the grapes from the stalk, wash, and allow to dry completely. Once bone dried, store in a dry sterilized jar and top with enough verjuice to cover plus a bit of salt.  This method, in vogue in Kermanshah and possibly other regions of Iran, is known as “ghoreh ghoreh.” Double unripe grapes that is! Cute, no?

You could also preserve ghureh in ab namak (salty water) instead of verjuice.

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How to make your own ground sour grapes (gard ‘e ghoreh): Wash sour grapes, remove from stalk, gently pat dry and spread over a tray lined with fabric or paper towels. Leave for a few days where it would get plenty of direct sunlight till it dried out. Grind in a processor into a powder. This becomes a tasty and tart chashni چاشنی (taste, flavor) that makes stews and soups quite lovely and delicious. You could also use it to marinate fish and fowl and BBQ meat. Because, pour quoi pas? If a hint of tart is your thing, ground sour grapes could be your best friend.

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How to freeze your sour grapes! Wash sour grapes thoroughly and then remove from stalk. Bring a pot of water to a brisk boil. Add sour grapes and boil for only 30 seconds.  Drain in a colander and immediately give it an ice bath. (A bowl filled with ice cubes, roomy enough.) to chill the sour grapes quickly. Then drain once again in colander, spread to completely dry on a piece of fabric or paper, and then fill freezer bags with sour grapes. Write the date on the bag ad freeze for up to a year. Note: another school of thought admonished that washing sour grapes prior to freezing allows discoloration (turning yellow instead of green) and suggests that you freeze unwashed sour grapes and when ready to use, thaw and wash grapes then.

Make it, enjoy it, and noosh ‘e joon!

Plate of Vanooshk aka Wild Pistachio | Kermanshah, Iran 2014

Vanooshk & flowers in cousin Roshanak’s house | Kermanshah, Iran 2014

Gentle reader, hello and welcome to part 4 of the Trip to Kermanshah series!

As you saw for yourself the other day when we strolled through the Grand Bazaar of Kermanshah you can find everything there from shirini kermanshahi to gold jewelry to grizzly rows of severed cow’s heads (let us not speak of those yet or better yet never again!)

I omitted mention of the thriving farmer’s market bustling with all manners of fresh fruit and vegetables and herbs just outside and around the bazaar. Saving its tale for now.

And this is freshly harvested chickpeas! Roots & all!

Back tracking a bit, and as I pointed out recently, you may by now have noticed a pattern with Persians and their passionate penchant for unripe produce! Let’s just go ahead and call it an impetuous love affair!

To wit, we have unripe almonds (chaghaleh badoom چاقاله بادوم ), unripe green plums (gojeh sabz گوجه سبز), and just recently we made the tart yet invigoratingly pleasant acquaintance of unripe sour grapes (ghureh غوره) all of which are specimens of things not yet ripe yet beloved by Iranians and consumed with relish as either a fruit snack, or as a cherished culinary ingredient, or for its medicinal benefits, or for all of the above.

While writing about ghureh I did wonder if I were missing any other unripe fruits and vegetables that have sweet-talked their way into the Persian palette, and while writing this post I realized I’d forgotten about at least one more such instance.

During the tour of Kermanshah’s farmer’s market I came in close contact with mountain grown wild pistachios called vanooshk ونوشک and I was also tickled to  find out about the nibbling possibilities of freshly harvested chickpeas!

Kind Persian lady demos snacking on freshly harvested chickpeas

Here’s what transpired:

I was walking and talking with my cousin Roshanak but out of the corner of my eyes I couldn’t help but notice this lady munching off what appeared to be torn off tree branches! WHAT!

Inquiring minds want to know and I played my tourist card and before my cousin could stop me, pounced on the poor woman and asked what she was nibbling on. As was wont of almost everyone I interacted with during my trip to Iran, the lady was super nice and friendly and warmly informed me that she was enjoying snacking on freshly picked green chickpeas or nokhod kham as we call it in Farsi.

[Aside: In the photo above please do note the presence of my nemesis, okra, piled on trays at the bottom and in the center of the photo. My father loves okra, particularly Persian okra stew (khoresh ‘e bamiyeh) but it’s the one thing I can not abide to eat in any way, shape or form.]

The freshly-harvested-chickpeas-snacking-nice-lady offered me to try some of the nokhod ‘e kham and I confess I was not shy enough to refuse and I heartily agreed to pick and munch. I no longer recall the precise taste but I do remember that the green chickpeas were kind of crunchy and overall: pleasant. Certainly a most intriguing way to snack!

Afterwards, my cousin Roshanak laughed and said “Vai, Azi jan, chera inkaro kardi? You shouldn’t eat unwashed things!” But you know what, I pretty much threw caution to the wind during my trip, or rather, I was not even conscious of the need to be cautious, to be honest. I ate and drank what was offered and was available or seemed novel, tempting or interesting and it was all good and I lived to tell the tales! And I do have a few fun tales left to tell in that regard!

Before leaving the bazar’s farmer’s market, Roshanak wanted to buy something. A little something called vanooshk!

Vanooshk piled high! | Kermanshah, Iran 2014

Here’s a mound of vanooshk, piled high. It bears a striking resemblance to unripe sour grapes, n’est ce pas?

What is vanooshk? Well, it is the fruit of a tree called “baneh” that grows in the mountains of Iran. In Farsi, vanooshk is also known as wild pistachio or mountain pistachio. In English the tree is known as the Persian turpentine tree and if you want to get all Latin about it, the tree is called Pistacia atlantica.

To the best of my knowledge, vanooshk is not nibbled on raw, but is used to make everything from torshi (Persian pickles) to ash and abghoosht (thick hearty Persian soups) to khoresh (Persian stews.) At least, Kermanshahi folks do so. My visit was not long enough for me to taste any of these culinary marvels. Alas!

Cousin Roshanak inquiring about purchasing Vanooshk in Kermanshah, iran

Roshanak buying Vanooshk! | Kermanshah, Iran 2014

The green bounty of freshly picked grape leaves

Gasp! What have we here? Do check out this gorgeous pile of fresh grape leaves as well! Oh my! These beauties! What I wouldn’t give to get my grubby hands on some right now to make dolmeh ‘ye barg ‘e mo دلمه برگ مو (stuffed grape leaves, Persian style.)

My cousin Roshank has a beautiful bagh (a term referring not to a farm per se but a piece of land, private garden, used strictly to grow fruits and vegetables) and before I left Kermanshah she made sure to give me a tote bag packed and filled with freshly picked grape leaves from the trees of her own bagh that I took with me to Tehran, as one of the many sweet and charming souvenirs of my trip to my father’s city of childhood.

Now for good measure, I present you with a short video below that captures just a minute of the escapades of the day …

And let’s end with this nice smiley vendor

… who was a little grumpy at first but hammed it up like a champ when I asked him to pose with a vanooshk bouquet. Damesh garm!

Back soon with the next installment of this Trip to Kermanshah series.

♥

[This post scheduled to publish while I’m on my Epic Trip to Iran, part 2.]

So a few weeks ago I went on Twitter asking for help identifying the fruit in this photo (that I had snapped sometime last spring time during my epic trip to Iran) because for the life of me, I could no longer remember its name. Twitter friends came out fast and furious to help (in a good way!) and before you knew it, my mystery fruit was identified as loquat (in English) or azgil ازگیل (in Farsi) or Mespilus Germanica if you want to get all botanical and Latin about it.

A Twitter friend informed me that loquats are quite popular in Pakistan.

Then @Freejust1 told me that there are sweet and sour varieties of loquat in Kashmir and that the tree blossoms in November. He then made me quite jealous by boasting of not just loquat but also peach and pomegranate trees growing in the yard of his house in Kashmir! To prove his point, @Freejust1 shared a peek of his garden in bloom and then he just had to really rub it in by sharing a photo of this view of the mountains from his garden!

I mean! Look at that! I have a bump on my head because I swooned and tumbled off my chair! I have decided that I may just move to Kashmir! Where I may feel quite at home apparently because according to @FreeJust1 “Iran has always had a deep cultural influence on Kashmir which is known in the subcontinent as iran-i-sagheer. (Iran ‘e sagheer means little Iran, by the way.)

Back to our fruit, it turns out loquat (azgil) grows abundantly in California as well, particularly in the San Diego area, and many Californians can boast of having a few of its trees growing in their yards. Laura Bashar, fellow Persian food blogger compatriot over at Family Spice also waxed poetic about the abundance of loquat in San Diego and Tannaz, another dear Persian food blogger, over at All Kinds of Yum noted: “my area of LA blows up with loquats in spring. I have (non-Persian) friends with a tree who make jam from them.” OK, Tannazie, no need to brag! ;) Another Twitter friend @Dawn_Hawk mentioned her 3 loquat trees as well and made mention that the loquat fruit in her yard were ripening right on the branches as we bantered on Twitter! She also invited me to go harvest them in California! What a sweet offer! I’d love to accept. In fact,  after moving to Kashmir, I will then move to California. (Honestly though, after my recent visits to Los Angeles I swear I am this close and so very tempted to move to Tehrangeles for real and I’d do it too in a New York minute were it not for the deal breaking factors of the cars and the sun, ha ha. After all these years of happily dwelling car-free in New York, I cringe at the thought of having to own and drive a car and navigate traffic and I’m somewhat like a vampire, verily shunning the sun, so as you can see I would not fare well in sunny southern California.)

I was so happy to have received immediate and straightforward answer to my “Identify this mystery fruit” Twitter query but of course @RezaShaer just had to volunteer that: “I think these are called Azgil Japoni, Different from regular Azgil.” Of course, as an attorney, it behooves him to make such distinctions! Echoed by a couple of other people as well who observed that the fruit in the pic are actually called Japanese azgil. Then someone said that “no, these are not loquat” but rather a fruit called “konar“, however, others objected vehemently and pointed out that azgil is not be mixed up with Konar that does look very similar but is smaller and is a fruit of an entirely different type of tree. But people, oy vey, let’s not even worry about these things!

Konar! Fruit of “sedr” tree in Tajrish Bazaar | Tehran, Iran

It’s so funny! I Googled for images of “konar fruit” and found one of my very own pictures, ha ha, that I’d published in a post about my tour of the fabulous Tajrish bazaar in Tehran. A fruit which I back then reported as “quite popular to eat in the southern regions of Iran”, and one that “tastes something like a combination of apples and pears.”  Sounds pretty good to me! According to the yellow sign, konar is also good for problems with diabetes, cholesterol, nausea and lung diseases and filled to the brim vitamins A, B, C and calcium. That sounds pretty good too! And also, a sweet friend tells me that “they make ‘sedr’ which is the what they used as shampoo back in the day (and some still do) from the leaves of konar tree.” Very neat, no? According to my friend @andoust whose mom used to make her put the sedr “shampoo” in her hair couple of times a month after her regular shower, it did wonders for the hair. “My grandma and her mom before her all used it too.” Ha! Must give it a try if I get a chance! 

I swear that writing about and exploring Persian food sometimes feels like being Alice in the Wonderland and falling down the rabbit hole and bouncing from one amazing thing to another so that you forget where you started and have no idea where you might end up. It’s all fascinating but for the interest of efficiency and for the sake of my sanity (what little shreds and jagged shards of it remain) I’ll pretend I never did hear of this distinction between Japanese and regular azgil and I will be in steadfast denial about dealing further with konar as well! (La la la, my fingers are in my ears. I know not what you speak of.) But seriously, sigh, I’ll honor my blogging duties and look into it and report back one of these days.

In conclusion, it was fun how much activity this one simple question generated (drawing comments from Kashmir, San Diego, Los Angeles, New York, Iran and Pakistan and elsewhere) and it just shows how much people love talking about and discussing food and food related stuff on social media.

Thank you lovely Twitter and FB friends: @Dawn_Hawk @Eyeblinks @sidewalk lyrics @RezaShaer @Freejust1 @HameedPooya and Laura and Tannaz and @zozobaking and @anadoust.

And let’s end this fruity (but not nutty) post with a couple of other sightings of azgil aka loquat aka Mespilus Germanica (a sweet fruit which may just be Japanese azgil but is not to be confused however under any circumstance with Konar) as captured by your faithful blogger, aka moi, during what I frequently and persistently (although hopefully not annoyingly) refer to as #myepictriptoiran.

Azgil (loquat) in Shiraz, Iran

Fallen branch with unripe azgil (loquat) in my va va voom’s aunt‘s garden in Shiraz, Iran.

Azgil in blue glass goblets in Haleh’s kitchen in Tehran, Iran

And azgil as detected (and very probably gobbled up shortly thereafter) in blue glass goblets in lovely Haleh‘s kitchen.

That’s it folks!

Till soon’ish & until then may you have many ripe delicious things in your fridge!

Apples are not my favorite fruit. In fact, they don’t even make it my Top 20 list.  But everyone says apples are an exceptionally healthy fruit with many benefits. And by everyone, I mean there is a literal proverb in the English language that says: An Apple a Day Keeps the Doctor Away. And in Iran, ditto, apples are given massive props for boosting health. With one caveat though, there’s a Persian proverb that goes: An apple in the morning is worth gold, by noon worth silver, and in the afternoon it’s merely as good as copper. And in the evening, you should just kick that round & seedy useless bastard out of the house. Just kidding. A little aggressive blogging humor. Heh heh.

So what are these alleged impressive health benefits of apples? (Source)

• Apples Are Nutritious.
• Apples May Be Good for Weight Loss.
• Apples May Be Good for Your Heart.
• They’re Linked to a Lower Risk of Diabetes.
• They May Have Prebiotic Effects and Promote Good Gut Bacteria.
• Substances in Apples May Help Prevent Cancer.
• Apples Contain Compounds That Can Help Fight Asthma.
• Apples May Be Good for Bone Health.
• Apples May Be Good for the Brain.

Cliff notes: Apples are incredibly good for you! May Be.

So, yadi yada, when I’m being health-conscious I kind of force myself to have one each morning for breakfast.

Back when I lived in New York City I would traipse to Union Square’s Farmers Market every chance I got for its interesting vibe and energy where you could find a lot of good food and produce including apple varieties that you’d not normally spot in the supermarket. My favorite kind of apple back then was Pink Lady which is a crisp and tart apple. Just the way I like ’em. The more tart and crisp the better. I don’t much care for sweet apples and is there ever a sense of existential angst felt more keenly than biting into an apple anticipating an awesome crunch and realizing instead you’ve bitten into something spongy and mealy instead? It’s like when you shake hands with those people who have that weird limp kind of handshake that leaves you feeling bothered, unsettled and frankly appalled.

While there’s no cure for the willies you get from a limp handshake, you could always turn less than desirable apples into a Persianized apple crumble with a rosewater cream or some delicious yummy apple confections with saffron, rosewater & pistachios.

Any. How.

Now I live in Tehran, a city with almost as many fruit shops as there are street cats. Translation: a lot! Every neighborhood has at least a dozen street cats fostered by the residents and at least 3 shops that sell nothing but fruits and vegetables and fresh herbs. The closest fruit shop to me is smack dab literally a minute outside of my home and it is a decent establishment with decent products but the owner is grumpy and his treatment of yours truly fluctuates depending on how much yours truly shops. When I buy a little, he wears a thousand-yard stare, barely says anything and maybe even grumbles as we exchange goods and money. When I buy a lot, he perks up and grows effusive and says things like: “thank you for the trouble of your flower hands” as I deign to swipe the card to pay for the goods and practically bows as I take my gracious leave.  Also, I have a feeling he overcharges me at times.

What I’m saying is that whilst I am philosophically and intrinsically loyal to supporting the small mom-and-pop stores in my hood (more like pop-and-son or bro-and-bro stores here in Iran actually), I just don’t enjoy shopping at this Haji Agha’s fruit shop.

So, much like a fickle honey bee, I happily buzz and flick around at the myriad shops within the 3-mile radius of my home for my fruit and veggies and fresh herbs.  One of my favorite spots opens as early as 6 a.m and when I’m an early bird I’m their first and only customer! Which is perfect during these Covid 19 days when I try to restrict my out-and-about walking and shopping expeditions to times when there are the least amount of people present.

L’enfer c’est les autres. Must shop when no one is around. Sartre knew.

This shopkeeper usually keeps a big box filled with the best & showiest of his new arrivals right next to the cash register. One day this box was filled with very small very red apples and a sign that read: “seeb ‘e tu sorkh” (aka blood apples) in big scrawly letters and then in smaller scrawls listing the alleged health benefits of these novel beauties. “Are they sweet or tart?” I asked.  “Tart” he replied, music to my ears, and then he got almost got glowy as big-inhale-big exhale he evangelized: “Khanoom! You don’t know how good these are! These are the best. They are red inside. They are so good for you and they taste better than French apples.” I didn’t even know what he meant by French apples but how could I not buy some from him after that deeply emotional testimonial?

And reader: these apples were and are awesome. Beautiful, red inside, tasty, tart and so crisp they made my jaded heart sing. I’m half kidding. My heart is not jaded. It runs entirely on earnest power. It really did sing however with the joy of munching on these teeny-tiny crisp tart delicious things.

Obviously I did not regret the purchase but I did regret only buying a measly 1/2 kilogram. Two days later I went back with the specific intent to stock up, nay, hoard these awesome red blood apples, and realized with an alarm that he only had a little left.  I effusively praised how good these apples were and he in turn radiated a keen appreciation of my feedback and I think it’s possible that we both might have teared up with the level of emotion we exuded for these red suckers.  That was a nice moment, but it was also a   rookie & fatal mistake because my emotional outburst caught the attention of a nosey shopper in my vicinity whose ears had perked up with our chat and she immediately burrowed into the mostly empty box of apples with her plastic-glove-clad-hands practically shoving mine aside to forage for apples for herself. I guess she was influenced. Ha ha.

It would have been unseemly to get into a fistfight so I let her grab her fill and then bought what remained, which was only another 1/2 kilo. As of writing this post now I’m down to my last one, that I’m saving for breakfast tomorrow when it will be gold. I did indulge a few times here and there at night as well when they are not even worth copper because they just were such a delightful munchy snack that I couldn’t help myself.

Now what are these red-fleshed apples and where do these blood apples come from?  A surreptitious Google search sent me to this Newsweek article among other things and apparently these red apples may be genetic mutants. Mutated by man that is and not nature.

Is it a good thing to expedite mutancy by breeding ? Hmmmm. In the age of Corona and the disaster & crisis smorgasbord otherwise known as 2020 I personally no longer sweat these things and they seem the least of my worry. So yeah, I don’t know if it’s a good thing to tinker with nature or not.

What I do know and can tell you with confidence is that these mutant blood apples tasted damn good, and I’m really really really sad that I’ve run out.

But seriously, what do I know. If brevity is the soul of wit, then this novel I wrote about apples demonstrates that I’m either entirely free of wit or at best a half-wit.

Be that as it may, I hope you enjoyed this tome about my lovely mutant apples.

Let your earnest heart sing with the tart joy of biting into crisp blood apples.

The post Blood Apples & Tales of the Hood appeared first on Fig & Quince.

Dear Reader, I thought I might get our blogging journey going by introducing you to a few exotic characters that are fruity in nature — and that are now ripe and juicy and in season in Iran.

Meet azgil. An ugly fruit that tastes, uh … good?

Let’s get started by meeting this creature. If Tim Burton ever created fruit, it would look like azgil.

Azgil (medlar in Latin) is indigenous to Iran.

It is brown as you can see, with crinkly paper-thin skin. It tastes kind of sweet and it is squishy soft In texture. I don’t like its name. I don’t like its taste. I don’t care for it. Not even one bit. I do kind of harbor some twisted affection for its weird exterior aesthetic but it certainly does not look any more appealing if you slice it and look at its innards.

The macabre messy innards of azgilt

What’s inside azgil? Peer at your own peril!

Even so, azgil is quite popular with a lot of people, and some of those thus fond of this quirky fruit, slice out the top part of the fruit and then squeeze out the fleshy gut of azgil — POP — right into their mouth. I am for certain not one of those people.

There’s also a Japanese azgil (or “loquat”) and I wrote about that particular creation of the omnipotent creator of our peculiar matrix in a chatty and juicy earlier post here.

Moving on!

Still life with Persian yellow plums — you can make a wickedly good Persian stew with these little sweets

Next, let’s meet this sweet cute innocent looking specimen that is a type of plum.

These little yellow plums, or “aloo zard” (literally “yellow plum”) or “aloocheh”, (aloocheh literally means little plums — isn’t cute?) are soft, juicy, and sweet. They are not my favorite fruit either, but I don’t mind them. I did use them to make a succulent chicken and plum Persian stew and they turned out wonderful. If one were so inclined, these little yellow plums could also find themselves whirling around as an ingredient in an autumnal “āsh” (hearty Persian soups) but verily, little yellow plums are pretty much mostly enjoyed simply as fresh fruit.

Important note: Don’t mistake aloo zard with zard aloo! 

Feijoa (aka pineapple guava) is known as Fojia in Iran. Just to add to the fun!

Let’s now meet this truly exotic being that is properly called Feijoa but is called Fojia in Iran. Cultivated in the Caspian sea region of Iran, feijoa’s true origin is however from Brazil.

Family friends with a fruit garden in the region gifted a little basket of their last harvest of the season of this tree.I’d never seen or tasted this fruit before receiving this harvest gift.

My very first taste reminded me of pineapple. My taste buds did me proud because Google then said that this fruit is called pineapple guava due to its pineappley taste and aroma. In texture it is soft. Just like azgil, feijoa is also squishy inside, but it is more spongy. Fejjoa also has a way more photogenic gut than azgil.  Although it is not too hard to win that beauty contest!

What is wrong with me, dear reader, for snarking on innocent fruits?  Never mind. Let’s continue.

What’s inside the feijoa fruit

You can chop off the top part and then squeeze out the fruity flesh and pop it into your mouth — just like with azgil. I tried it. And guess what?  I don’t care for fojia’s taste either. It tastes like a meek pineapple. Like being kissed by Ashley Wilkes when you are really lusting after Rhett Butler.  Personally, I can live happily ever after without it.

What I can’t live without though are pomegranates. Gimme, gimme, gimme more.

Gimee all the pomegranates in the world!

Black pomegranate arils look just like regular arils

Black pomegranates — as photographed in the cover image — are characters well worth getting acquainted with. However, let’s reserve that introduction for another post because I think black pomegranate deserves its own post.

Meanwhile, hope you enjoyed this post about the various fruits your faithful blogger does not enjoy eating, ha ha, and if you’d like to support your snarky blogger, please:

• Do share Fig & Quince’s posts with your friends and family:
• Do follow and engage with moi on Instagram and Facebook;
• And in general, please do continue to be the amazing and kind human being that you are and do not shade innocent fruits as I did.

Thank you, kiss kiss, and till very very soon.

The post Azgil, Aloocheh & Feijoa | An Exotic Fruity Trilogy appeared first on Fig & Quince.