A Dinner of California Persian Cuisine Created by Samin Nosrat
Growing up in a Persian kitchen in southern California prepared me surprisingly well for a cooking career that began at Chez Panisse. My mother couldn't have done a better job of impressing upon me the importance of starting with the most delicious ingredients: suitably tangy limes; fragrant, lively bunches of tarragon and cilantro bought by the dozen; yogurt that could never be too thick or sour. We spent countless afternoons seeking out these things at the Asian markets, Mexican groceries, and organic food co-ops in San Diego.
I began cooking as a teenager and used my unusually primed palate to learn the nuances of innumerable varieties of heirloom vegetables, discovering along the way that there is no effort so well spent as finding local sour cherries during the few weeks they're available in the bay area each summer. Now, when my mother visits me in Berkeley, I take her to the farmers' market and watch as she spots the tender fava beans, crunchy green plums, and ripe, cracked pomegranates of her childhood. At the stove, Persian cuisine is guided by a principle of balancing each dish with contrasting elements: For every bite of sweet dried fruit, there must be something sour. For each crispy piece of tahdig, or crusty golden rice, there must be something soft and velvety. Imbued into my sensibility as both an eater and a professional cook, this desire for equilibrium informs my menu writing, whether for catered events for techie high rollers, public cooking classes, or the family-style "Afterhours" dinners I cook each month at Tartine Bakery in San Francisco. As these pages demonstrate, Persian food intersects with California at the market: both celebrate the best ingredients with simple preparation.
