Persian Meal

Through the ajar sliding glass door, bright sunlight filled the dining room, glinting off the leaves of the potted plants in each corner. The incoming breeze rippled around us, bringing with it the scent of the sea, which blended well with the aroma of spices in the air. In the middle of the dining table stood a porcelain vase of purple–bluish flowers whose name had escaped my memory. Each flower, nestled snugly among tiny wrinkled leaves, dangled delicately from its stalk. Arranged around the vase were ceramic plates with pinkish floral pattern, revealing the good taste of the friendly, gracious hosts, Chea San and her Iranian husband, Nasii. 

              

            Dr Loh Yunn Hua, the president of our writing Club, Society of English Writers Northern Zone Sarawak(SOSWE), was the key figure who had arranged the gathering. Six people, including me, had been invited, and each of us had paid RM30.00 to dine. With the exception of Dr Loh, who had been treated to meals at the couple’s house several times, Iranian food was a novelty to all of us. We were accustomed to the likes of fiery Malay and Indian food in Malaysia; Would Iranian food fall under the same category?

              

Contrary to our expectations, the spread of food was mild in taste, despite the generous use of herbs and spices. The first delicacy served was pan-baked pita bread cut into bite-sized pieces. It was soft, a bit chewy and eaten with a creamy yoghurt dip that brought a pleasant surprise to our taste buds. The lightly salted yoghurt complemented the bread well, tasting refreshing and leaving no greasy aftertaste. What an ideal way to eat healthily!

             Next up was onion lemon soup. Swimming atop the chicken soup were caramelized onions, whose sweetness created a blast of flavour with the tanginess of the lemon juice, whetting our appetites and compelling us to keep asking for refills. The regular consumption of this soup will no doubt make one’s skin fair and cause it to glow.

            There were three types of rice dishes served: one cooked with roselles, one with saffron strands and the other a crusty layer of rice called tahdig. “To eat the crust,” said Nasii, “you have to abandon niceties and tear it into your desired pieces with your fingers.” Quality basmati rice was used in all the dishes. There was a hint of berry sweetness to the first one, the second was redolent with the distinctive aroma of saffron and the third was smoky and addictive. Giving us a good range of textures, from fluffy to crispy, they played their role as good accompaniments to the two meat dishes, Khoresht Bodemjan and braised chicken with turmeric.

    

“To cook Khoresht Bodemjan, or eggplant and lamb stew,” explained Chea San, “you have to bake the eggplants and peel off their skin.”

The Khoresht Bodemjan was robust with flavours. The eggplants, mushy from long stewing and infused with the tang of rich spices, were punctuated by tender, juicy lamb. The gravy, slightly zingy due to the use of preserved lemons, went well with the rice. I wished I could sop it up with the pita bread, but alas, it had finished!

Throughout the course of the afternoon, we were served a continuous flow of doogh, a yoghurt drink which is mildly seasoned with dried mint and salt. It is a perfect pick-me-up on hot days. Nasii, a man of knowledge and experience, regaled us with numerous interesting Persian tales. Although Chee San had never set foot in Iran, she had mastered the art of cooking Iranian food, having been taught by her mother-in-law during the early years of her marriage to Nacee. “My mother came to Miri and taught Chee San how to cook,” he said proudly. “She successfully grasped the essence of Persian cuisine from her.”

              

The second meat dish, braised chicken with turmeric, reminded us of the ubiquitous spiced chicken which is served in Indonesian restaurants. The difference was that it was not hot, and it had a sourish edge. Drenched in thick gravy, the chicken had been cooked so tender that it fell apart upon being scooped. The dish spoke volumes about Chea San’s meticulous cooking methods.

              

We rounded off the meal with a cold dessert, raspberry jam topped with toasted almond and yoghurt served in individual glass cups. The sweetness of the jam, the tartness of the yoghurt, plus the presence of a few fenugreek seeds in the mixture neutralised the taste of spices on our tongues. I had never tasted any dessert that had been presented this way. The fenugreek seeds rendered a good bite to the wonderful sweet treat, adding a certain subtlety to it. 

Chea San and Nasii gave us a great dining experience. You could perceive their hospitality from the way in which the food had been prepared. Through the forging of a new friendship, the delicious Persian meal expanded our palatial horizons.