Tag / Pomegranate


A Winter’s Tale and a Pomegranate Soup – Shab-E Yalda – Aash-E Anar

Yeky bood, yeky nabood…
‘Twas the longest night of the year.
‘Twas the darkest night of the year.
‘Twas the most magical night of the year.
Soak the rice as the split peas simmer away.  Immerse your hands in the cold water and gently break up the rice into bits and pieces. Feel the familiar beat of nostalgia course through your body.  Memory knocking at your door.  It always begins with a gentle knock.


Mothers and Daughters – Strawberries Macerated in Pomegranate Molasses with Rose Water Cream

Once upon a time, a long, long, long time ago, there was a bang which wasn’t really a bang but more of a singular moment in time when all the matter in the universe came into laser-sharp focus and all that energy in there shook around and bounced off of each other and  contracted and contracted until there was no more room so it expanded and BANG! exploded into tiny particles forming protons, neutrons and electrons – forming The Univ

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A Music Education and a Pomegranate and Walnut Stew – Khoresh Fesenjan

George Michael and Andrew Ridgely.  They dreamily look deep into my soul – unearthing every little secret and thought as I flop on my bed – chin resting on hands looking even  deeper into their souls – the intensity of my stare almost burning a hole in the album cover – held inches from my nose.  I fancy myself Andrew’s best bud and the next Mrs. George Michael.
Well – we all know how that all turned out.


A Pomegranate Molasses BBQ Sauce and Park Ribs – Food Diplomacy 101

You never see the sun in the night, but once in an ice cream while, you see the moon in the daytime. – Luna
BBQ sauce and pork ribs are not exactly part of my everyday cooking vernacular.  I am not what you might call a BBQ sauce/ribs enthusiast – not even close.  I know there are cookbooks, TV shows and competitions dedicated to this mighty American tradition.


Pomegranate Juice – Abeh Anar

This pomegranate brought me back to life!
So said my 6 year old daughter Luna when she got through the very last drop of her abeh anar – pomegranate juice.  Next came the search for any surviving seeds that didn’t have their juice sucked right out of them.  Dainty, stained fingers ripped though the ravaged piece of fruit in hopes of one more little morsel, one more blood-red seed, one more crunch.