(This recipe is a family secret, and all rights are reserved to my aunt.)
An onion.
Be the woman, chop a big one and fry it golden.
Make sure seven neighboring houses,
In all directions, can smell it.
Add meat.
Already cut in cubes of one square inch.
Add water.
Let it boil over low fire.
Add Ghorme vegetable.
Already chopped and fried to dark green
Very dark green.
The tinier chopped and the darker fried,
The more feminine you are.
Add salt.
Never put it first when you cook meat.
Add pepper.
Just a bit.
Add turmeric.
It’s the secret.
Add Saffron.
Call it “Persian cuisine” now.
Serve it with steamed cooked rice.
Bring your macho man to his knees.
Forget the fight for women’s rights,
The right to divorce,
Custody of children,
And the fight against polygamy.
Nothing beats
The power of Ghorme Sabzi.
i enjoy cooking and i completely love this poem and wonder if we will cook it together some time....
ReplyDeleteNever loved the sickly greenish gruel served on campus that pretends to be Ghorme Sabze, until i tasted the real thing in Agha Bidar's House :)
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