Gormeh Sabzi

A delicious Persian choresh (stew) to remember my brother with

Here is my brother Bryan, with our doggy, Penny Smith, teaching her to give paw. We both loved that doggy so much, but he was the only one who could get her to give paw. If you look at the dogs face, there is pure love in her eyes.

My brother, Bryan, was two years younger than me. We were, in turns, very close and very far apart, depending on many things, especially the influence of family craziness. Bryan and I did not look related: he was tall dark slim athletic and quite handsome. Me: shortish, blonde, chubby, not so athletic at all. Our link, and it was a strong one, was sharing our observations about family. When no others would believe us, or even worse, turn against us for speaking so, we would prop each other up. We knew what gaslit was before it was a familiar term.

But: we each had our different ways that we thought to proceed. Whereas I felt that we should have respect for and patience with the older generation, just put up with them, he felt safer and happier staying away. (This was further proof of what a terrible person he was). I figured that we should just pay our respects, put in an appearance, and erect high emotional walls so we couldn’t be hurt. After all, when this generation passed, Bryan and I would be the family, with our children, and spouses, and gatherings that were happy instead of so difficult we needed to self medicate. Unfortunately, I was wrong. We never got that far.

He died, suddenly, unexpectedly, while the whole elder generation was still alive. Now it was just me, talking to myself: it was like losing body parts, limbs, much of my heart.

Still, when he was alive, he was…a bit difficult. A unique character, and I often felt that I needed to protect him. He was also hilarious. Also, with each other we validated each other by simply knowing our truths. Simply put: with my brother, I knew who I was. With me, I believe my brother knew who he was.

For at least 7 years as a young adult he lived on my living room couch in my tiny San Francisco apartment. While he applied to and eventally enrolled in law school, he searched vigorously for a woman with whome to share a love, convinced that this would bring peace to his heart.

I worked 9-5 and catered on the side. Sometimes Bryan would help me with catering, say I was short bartender, or needed several thousand stuffed vineleaves by the next evening. Its hard to explain how things were then; all I know is that when he died, they (things) and I, were never the same again.

Bryan was like a character out of an Isaac Bashevis Singer novel, or a book by Sholem Aleichum, a supreme philospher. But none of this addresses his underlying truth: he was sad. Often. Depressed; always. The flip side to his hilarity.

The woman my brother fell in love with was Shalah Sedegatphar. Shalah was beautiful, and kind, and smart. She reminded me of my grandmother which is the highest praise I can give anyone. She lived in Tiburon, on the water, with her extended family who had fled Iran when the mullahs seized power. Once my brother and Shalah married,my daughter and myself were welcome, that is warmly wecome, to the weekly family meal gathering.

lt was so much like our childhood family meal at our grandparents—I could see in Bryan’s face the joy of each weeks gathering, and, unlike the extended family we came from, the Sedagatphars seemed really happy we were there.

Mama Naima was so kind and her cooking was, like my grandmother’s, a joy to taste, full of heart. At the risk of sounding trite, you could feel her enjoyment simply preparing these dishes for her family.

Each week was a different choresh or two (stews of meat, beans, vegetables, sometimes fruit), fluffy, sumac duted chelo (buttery rice) and she made the crispest tah-dig ever. When she saw that my daughter loved tah-dig, she always put a big big crispy piece aside, just for her.

Half the time I didn’t even know the names for what we were eating, but Naima would take me into the kitchen and show me the ingredients and how she made this choresh, that choresh. Sometimes they started a barbecue and we cooked kebabs over the fire, drinking vodka, and looking out over the San Francisco Bay.

When they got divorced, I’m pretty sure my heart was broken as much as my brother’s. All I knew was that Shalah said when my mother and aunt came to visit, that they said terrible things about him. Shalah said that her mother said: “He must be especially bad, if his own mother says such things”. And that was that.

I know no more of what happened other than this second hand heresay; I’m sure there was lots I didn’t know about. What I did learn, though, was how to appreciate Persian food, as well as learn to make some of my favourite dishes.

Gormeh Sabzi

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Gormeh Sabzi

A soupy-stew of herbs, beans, meat and dried limes/lemons. Serve with Persian rice, (chelo) which is light and fluffy and buttery and delicate, a result of cooking rice in a way that is unlike other rice cultures: par boil, rinse, reheat for a slow steaming, with a generously buttered bottom that turns very very crisp (tah dig).

Serves 4-6

2 big bunches flat leaf parsley, coarsely chopped

2 big bunches coriander/cilantro, coarsely chopped

1 bunch green/spring onions, greens and white, coarsely chopped or sliced

1 smallish bunch fresh dill, coarsely chopped

About 12 oz/300g frozen spinach, leaf or chopped (don’t bother defrosting)

1 heaping tablespoon dried fenugreek leaves, or 1 bunch fresh, coarsely chopped

1/4-1/2 cup oil, or as needed

1 big fat onion, chopped

1 1/2 lbs stewing beef or lamb, cubes of a touch, delicious cut of meat that will cook down to tenderness

1 1/2 teaspoons turmeric powder

4-5 cups liquid: half water, half beef stock

4-5 dried limes/lemons, either Persian white/yellow ones or black Oman ones

1. Saute parsley, coriander/cilantro, and green/spring onions, in a few spoonfuls of the oil, until softened, then add the spinach and fenugreek, and continue to cook a few minutes, until the spinach is defrosted (if it already is, just warm it through with the herbs). Remove to cooking pot and set aside.

2. In now empty saute pan saute the onion until softened, then add the beef or lamb cubes and lightly brown. Sprinkle with turmeric, salt and pepper to taste, along the way.

3. Remove the onions and meat to the large pot with the greens; pour some of the liquid into the saute pan to get all the lovely juices and/or crusty bits, then pour that into the pot with everything else. Also, add whatever remaining liquid there is.

4. Bring to boil, reduce heat and cook, at a slow, low, simmer, until the meat is getting tender, about an hour and a half, then add the dried limes. Return to heat and continue to simmer another hour. If sauce is too thick add more liquid, too thin and add a little more dried fenugreek to hrlp absorb the excess,

5. By now the meat should be tender, the greens a lovely delicious, albeit sloppy, sauce; add the kidney beans and cook through together, maybe another 15 minutes?

6. Adjust seasoning, and serve.