Life in Iran, Before the Revolution
Memories
The Nuns Who Remembered My Mother
When my father transferred us from Abadan and Khoramshahr to Esfahan, I attended a French Catholic school there at age eight. As it turned out, one of the nuns — along with another woman on staff who wasn't a nun — had also worked at the French school in Tabriz where my mother, Katherine, had gone as a young girl. They remembered her so well.
In 1917 or so, my people — the Assyrians — faced genocide alongside our Armenian brothers and sisters. Overnight, my grandmother and her two sisters, who were just little girls at the time, became orphans. Fortunately, their uncle, who was a priest, took them under his wing until each of them married.
That chapter of their lives brought about a fundamental transformation — they learned so much about self-reliance, self-discipline, and accountability. This upbringing became part of who they were, and it was passed down from them to their children, grandchildren, and beyond.
The nuns, priests, and school faculty loved my mother so much that they considered her an exemplary student. She went on to become a French teacher, and later, when she married and was expecting her first child — my brother — the nuns made a baptismal dress for her, which I still have to this day.
She taught us discipline, accountability, honesty, and so much more, which, admittedly, not all of us applied to our daily lives as well as we should have. She was an amazing mother, filled with love for her family and loyalty to everyone around her. It was her sense of love and her teachings that helped me stay on the right path while I was in France.
Coming Home from School
As I'd walk home from school — about five miles away — I remember looking forward to going home and telling my mom about that day's events, while she prepared a snack for my brothers and me. Our home was always filled with the delicious aroma of my mom's baking and cooking. She often made several dishes to accommodate my brothers' finicky eating. We always waited for my dad to arrive home from work so we could all enjoy a family meal together.
Hosting the Priest and Nuns
As we were growing up, I remember that during the Christmas and Easter seasons, my mother would invite the priest and nuns over for dinner. They always enjoyed her cooking, since she made sure to prepare their favorite foods and desserts.
This tradition carried on in Khoramshahr and Esfahan, until the regime change — when our school was shut down and all the priests, nuns, and other school faculty were sent away.
On a Diet
As a young girl, I was very skinny and never thought about gaining weight or eating too much. Those were the days when kids could eat anything and still not gain weight — perhaps it had a lot to do with everyone walking so much and not relying on driving everywhere.
One day, I was so hungry I couldn't wait for dinner. Walking home from school, I knew my mom had definitely made another delicious meal for us. And sure enough, she'd made thick spaghetti with ground beef, which we all loved. I remember piling a huge amount of pasta onto my plate, and my brothers said, "You just got home from school — how are you going to have dinner when Dad comes?" I said, "I'm on a diet. I'll eat now and only have salad when Dad comes." Everyone burst out laughing, since that much food was in no way something you'd eat if you were actually on a diet.
Tahcheen at the Sheraton
While living in Esfahan, we would go to the Sheraton hotel on weekends with our family friends for lunch, and I loved ordering tahcheen — delicious saffron rice — with chicken.
We were always surrounded by friends, whether at home or while traveling, and seeing everyone enjoy delicious meals together, listening to their stories, still puts a smile on my face to this day.
Feasts and Hide-and-Seek
While we lived in Khoramshahr and Abadan, I remember always being surrounded by our big group of family friends. The kids' ages ranged from about five — my age — up to my older brother's teenage years.
After enjoying a feast big enough to feed an army, we would play hide-and-seek until we all crashed in whatever comfortable spot we could find. The food was usually Assyrian — dishes like Dolma (stuffed vegetables, cabbage, or grape leaves), Rezza Smooghah (red rice), Kipteh (meatball porridge), and so many other amazing foods.
Summer Days at the Pool
One of our favorite summer pastimes as kids was when our dad, and the dads of our family friends, would take us to these amazingly clean, modern swimming pools — like John Brown. Our fathers would enjoy a cold beer and delicious homemade French fries and burgers for all of us, while they played darts in the well air-conditioned bar area. We loved playing in the water for hours.
To this day, I remember the taste of those burgers and fries. My mother also made the most delicious fries, which my kids often remembered and asked for whenever we visited my parents.
The Fish Market in Khoramshahr
As a little girl, I remember being with my mom all the time, everywhere she went. I remember us going to the fish market in Khoramshahr, which was right by the river on the side of the street. I hated the smell of the fish there. The fresh fish was caught early in the morning and placed on ice, shaded by large umbrellas.
She'd buy a few silver pomfret fish and make a delicious Persian dish called zubaidi — a fish found commonly in the southern part of Iran, stuffed with tamarind and herbs.
The Yacht Club in Abadan
I recall going to the yacht club in Abadan with family friends and enjoying delicious lunch there. Their kababs were prepared to perfection. Traditionally — and it may sound a bit unusual — some people ordered raw egg yolk over their rice, alongside kababs like koobideh (ground beef kabab), barg (fillet kabab), or joojeh (grilled hen).
The yacht club was so beautiful, with a lovely restaurant. The city of Abadan was so westernized, thanks to the British influence and the oil refineries. To this day, I love brick homes and palm trees, because they remind me of the homes in Abadan. All the public places were state of the art — from the beautiful movie theater to the immaculate public pools, restaurants, and shops. One felt as if they were in Europe.
Afternoons at Hotel Shah Abbas
A relaxing afternoon at Hotel Shah Abbas in Esfahan was one of my favorite and most memorable times as a young girl. I remember sitting in the beautifully manicured garden of that amazing hotel, which used to be the palace of King Abbas centuries ago.
An old man with a long white beard, dressed all in white as a Darvish and holding a staff, would tell stories from the famous book Shahnameh with such passion. Surrounded by colorful roses, with the gentle sound of a large water fountain, and enjoying Café Glacé — iced coffee over ice cream (see the recipe in Desserts) — these are some of my favorite memories of Esfahan.
My First Taste of Indian Food
My first taste of Indian food happened when I was a little girl. Living in Khoramshahr, we learned about the delicious Indian spices and cuisine there. I remember there used to be a place that served only delicious vegetable samosas.
Later on, my mom learned the recipe and started making us samosas at home. As always, perfection was the key to her mastery.