Pickling a Peach from Tajrish

Nothing beats mooching around a bazaar, and if you live in the northern part of Tehran, Tajrish is the place to go.

Located at the very end of Valiasr Street, Tajrish is a hive of activity. With a metro station, a bus terminal, a taxi terminal and streets heading off downtown or to the foothills of the Alborz Mountains, there is always something going on and plenty of people going about their business.

Busy Tajrish bazaar

And right in the middle – is the bazaar.

Sadly ignored by most modern guidebooks, the Tajrish bazaar is a fascinating market with an interesting history. With today’s urban spread, high-rise buildings and apartment blocks, it may be difficult to believe that even in the 1970s, Tajrish was a cool, green mountain foothill holiday destination. Well, at least for those who could afford to escape the searing heat of Tehran’s hot summers.  The bazaar originated to supply holidaymakers, and is now the centre of one of Tehran’s more affluent and heavily-populated suburbs.

Although not as large and frenetic as Tehran’s Grand Bazaar, it is a place where you can find almost anything from painted baby chicks to FC Barcelona Messi football shirts. And, of course, the food there is fresher than you are likely to find any flashy supermarket.

The bazaar – any bazaar – is historically an integral part of Iran’s social and economic life. Over the centuries, as people have migrated to live in towns and cities, the bazaar served as an important connection between the town and the countryside whose agriculture fed the growing urban population. And, despite the increasing number of large supermarket chains in Tehran, bazaars continue to be influential today.

Each bazaar became a home to merchants and craftsmen, who formed their own powerful and influential trade guilds. Traditionally, the bazaaris (the shop owners) have close ties to the clergy, and next to each bazaar you are almost always guaranteed to find a Friday mosque. In Tajrish, pilgrims and shoppers alike find their way through the winding alleys to the striking Emamzadeh Saleh Mausoleum.

The power of the bazaar trade guilds was not something to be underestimated and bazaaris were renowned in the past for strikes and total shutdowns whenever they felt threatened by state or foreign monopolies. In 1951, with the events leading up to the nationalization of oil, Tehran’s Grand Bazaar, for example, staged a complete closure.

Spice shop in Tajrish bazaar

Every bazaar is divided into trade sections.  Alleyways selling saffron and sugar will be crisscrossed with other alleys selling housewares, electrical goods and others selling shoes. And, of course, my favourite alleys are the spice shops and the fresh foods.

Although I would advise checking the words for what you want to buy in a Farsi dictionary before you set out, browse in any fragrant spice store and you will find many a zesty flavouring. Organic soaps, remedies for all ills and herbs from Iran and abroad can be found in the smallest of shops in Tajrish.

The fruit and vegetable section is just pure fun to saunter around. Even with my very poor Persian, it has still been possible for me to beat the merchant down a Riyal or two (I think) from the starting price. And this is how I managed to buy some fresh local peaches to make one of Iran’s traditional accompaniments, pickled peaches.

Iranians do love their pickles and although there are many torsh-e khane, or pickle stores, in each bazaar, it is easy and rewarding to make your own.  Pickled peaches are a unique way to tart up any meat dish, and with all those summer bar-b-q’s now being planned, are a must have on any picnic table.

So, pop down to your local bazaar for some peaches and enjoy the summer fun!

Torsh-e Holu – Pickled Peaches

What you need:

375 ml white wine, cider or apple vinegar

500 g fresh peaches (the firmer the better)

Home made pickled peaches

1 tablespoon of fresh ginger (grated finely)

3 teaspoons ground coriander

3 garlic cloves, crushed

1 ½ teaspoons tamarind paste

110 grams sugar

¼ teaspoon hot chili peppers (ground or the flakes)

¼ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

What to do:

Pour 250 ml of the vinegar into a large, heavy based pan.

Peel and slice the peaches and place in the pan with the vinegar. Add the ginger, garlic and ground coriander.

Put the tamarind paste into the remaining vinegar and stir until dissolved, then pour in the pan.  Add all the other ingredients and stir gently.

Over a moderate heat, bring the mix to the boil, stirring occasionally to make sure the sugar has dissolved. Boil gently for about 5 minutes without the lid on.

Pour carefully into a warmed and sterilized jar (to sterilize the jar, warm it in the oven at 110°C for 20 minutes then use).

Store in a cool dark place for at least one week before using.

The Sweet Delights of Istanbul

Picture yourself standing in the streets of Old Istanbul.  Point your finger in any given direction and what do you see?

Chances are it will be a shop selling Turkish delight and baklava.

On a recent short jaunt to this fabulous city, I roamed the cobbled streets of the old town and, along with the fascinating history of Istanbul, absorbed the sweet aroma of Turkey’s ample confectionaries.

Haci Bekir sweet shop

Istanbul, apart from being one of the most visited cities on the planet, has a rich and deep history stretching back to the hallowed times of Constantinople (its former name) and the eastern Roman Empire, the clash between the Crescent and the Cross, and the heady days of the merchant-filled Silk Road.  It’s vast Ottoman Empire heralded sultans, both good and bad, embracing the vast diversity of the new and old worlds.  The breathtaking architecture, Iznik ceramics and Byzantine frescoes draw the visitor into a past world of imperial splendour and mercantile wealth.

Nowadays, the slow and steady pace of camels and caravanserais have been replaced by modern jet travel, ships steaming in all directions, efficient public transport, numerous hotels and a multitude of visitors with their ubiquitous iPads.  And the feel of Istanbul is still that of a bustling crossroads of cultures.  Sit on any public bench by the busy Bosphorus waterway and you will see the world’s people in all their hues, head-dresses and habits, pass peacefully in front of your eyes. 

Of course, with all this breathless sightseeing, there is always the need to boost the energy levels with some of the tastier local delights.  As I walked down a busy street in the traditional stock exchange area, I happened upon a delightful little shop with an enticing traditional window display of sweet treats.  I couldn’t resist going inside.

Haci Bekir's Turkish Delight

The bell above the door tinkled magically as I walked in to the quiet oasis of the Haci Bekir Confectioners.  Established in 1777 by Bekir Effendi, a sweetmaker from Anatolia, Haci Bekir is a Turkish confectionary institution.  Apparently, 250 years ago, sweets in Turkey were rather hard.  Bekir Effendi decided to change this and concocted a soft bite-sized confection made of gel of starch, sugar and natural fruit flavourings. Legend has it that the sweetmeat called lokum (the Arabic word for morsel) became very popular with the well to do.  A common trend was to wrap these deliciously soft little tidbits inside silk handkerchiefs and gift them to friends or loved ones.

Of course, it wasn’t long before lokum made its way to the Ottoman court and the Sultans gave it their royal approval.  Historical sources reveal that lokum was a favourite of the ladies in the palace harem, who would order boxes of the stuff to sweeten their mouths amidst all that palace intrigue.


The business is still run by the same Bekir family and the original shop in Bahçekapi District exists – with a few interior design changes – today. When you step inside you are greeted by reverentially quiet salesmen, welcoming you to their world of sweet serenity.

Now, for those of you who have ever visited Turkey, haggling and striking a bargain is expected almost everywhere.  But not in this quaint sweet shop. The calmness of the owners invites you to take your time, taste the wide array of their wares and choose at your leisure.

Faced with so much choice, and no pressure to buy, a visit to Haci Bekir is a must on anyone’s travel itinerary.

And now for the baklava!

Although baklava can be found in Iran, this melt-in-the-mouth pastry delight is indisputably Turkish in origin.  Scholars believe it to be based on the Turkic word and culinary tradition of layering breads.  The recipe reputedly originates from the kitchens of the Ottoman Topkapi Palace, majestically overseeing the city. 

Over the years, the making of baklava has modified to layering filo pasty in a large tray with layers of pistachios, walnuts or hazelnuts.  Before baking, the pastry is cut into diamond shapes and baked.  Once cooked, it is drizzled with oodles and oodles of honey syrup.

Baklava at the Hafiz Mustafa Bakery

And if you are in Istanbul, a must stop on the way back from the Topkapi Palace (and conveniently opposite Haci Bekir) is to pop into the Hafiz Mustafa Bakery.  It’s sidewalk tables are always packed with locals and tourists alike consuming cakes and sweets and drinking tea.

After a day of taking in Ottoman art and culture, I went into this lively café for a refreshing cuppa.  Positioning myself deliberately in front of the trays of baklava, my tea was brought to me by a pirouetting waiter, deftly depositing tea and cakes at tables without a drop spilt or a crumb lost.

I leave you to ponder the delights of the Middle East with Tess Mallos’ recipe for baklava from her book The Complete Middle Eastern Cookbook.  I would have to confess however, that although I have often been tempted to make baklava, I have never had the courage to do so.

I do think that if you really want to taste Turkish baklava, you need to get on a jet camel and head to Istanbul.

Baklava

What you need:

185 grams unsalted butter, melted

20 sheets of filo pastry

250 grams finely chopped walnuts or pistachios

155g grams finely chopped almonds

55 grams caster sugar

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

⅛ teaspoon ground cloves

For the syrup:

330 grams of sugar

90 grams honey

Thinly peeled strip of lemon rind

1 small piece of cinnamon bark

3 cloves

2 teaspoons lemon juice

1 baking dish approximately 23 x 33 x 5cm (9 x 13 x 2 inch)

What to do:

Preheat the oven to 160°C (320°F, Gas 2-3).

Brush the base and sides of the dish with melted butter.

Place nine sheets of filo pastry, one at a time, into the dish, brushing each layer with melted butter as you place it in the tray.

In a separate bowl, mix together the nuts, sugar and spices. Spread half of this nut mixture over the pastry.

Cover the nuts with another two sheets of filo pastry, brushing each layer with butter.

Spread the remaining nuts on top and finish with the remaining filo pastry, brushing each layer with melted butter.

Trim the pastry edges and brush the top with butter.

Take a sharp knife and (cutting the baklava right down to the base) cut the baklava into a diamond pattern.

Sprinkle the top lightly with water to prevent the top layers from curling upwards.

Bake in the middle of the oven for 30 minutes. Move the baklava to a higher shelf in the oven and bake for another 30 minutes. If you see the top starting to brown or colour, then place some baking parchment or tin foil on top of it.

Allow the pastry to cook thoroughly.

While the baklava is cooking, make the syrup.  Put the sugar and honey in a heavy-based saucepan with 375 ml of water.  Keep the heat at a moderate temperature and stir continuously until the sugar is dissolved.  Then add the remaining ingredients, bring to the boil and let boil for 15 minutes.  Strain and cool.

When the baklava is cooked, spoon the cooled syrup evenly over it.  Leave the baklava for several hours before serving.

The Gilaneh’s Torsh-e Kebab

The way to a man’s heart…

… is to listen to him.

And when that fails, take him out for some torsh-e kebab!

Which is what I had to resort to this week, when we paid a visit to the Gilaneh Restaurant, home of northern Iranian food in Tehran on Jordan Street.  We went there specifically to try out that particularly Caspian kebab.

The reason for this treat was my food faux pas of not listening to the man I have been married to for 28 years.  Not that this is a cardinal sin in of itself, but I failed to pick up the obvious – he likes torsh-e kebab, a sweet and sour delight made with a mix of pomegranate syrup and walnut paste.

Gary finally finds his torsh-e kebab

A few weeks ago, we were travelling in Mazandaran Province, right next to the Caspian Sea, and stayed in the old seaport of Babolsar.  Over lunch one day with some friends, Gary was absorbed in consuming copious quantities of this torsh-e kebab – even though he did not know that was what it was called. I was deeply involved in conversation with others, ignoring both the dish in question and my better half.

On the long drive back, Gary huffily moaned – repeatedly – that he had found something new he loved to eat and I didn’t even notice, let alone take a photo, never mind asking about what it was called. 

And so, since then I have been on a culinary guilt trip of monumental proportions.  This has led me to describing to various people what it was that Gary ate and then triangulating the evidence to eventually conclude that the enigmatic meal was in fact torsh-e kebab.

Having concluded that torsh-e kebab was probably the mystery item, the final leg in my odyssey led us to the Gilaneh Restaurant, a corner of the Caspian tucked away just a few metres off Africa Boulevard in the northern part of Tehran.  The restaurant oozes a combination of traditional charm and modern crispness.  Seated at old-style wooden tables, surrounded by household items of days gone by, we relaxed for a delicious, unhurried meal.  We could just feel as if we were sitting in some tavern by the Caspian, mist rolling in off the sea.  Modern fusion music brought us into the current century, and helpful smiling waiters brought us menus. 

Gilaneh Restaurant in Tehran

Knowledge is power and it didn’t take long to find the torshe-e kebab on the menu.  A choice of meat, lamb or chicken was offered to us, and of course torshe-e kebab juje was ordered.  The blend of pomegranate and walnut lends to purplish-red looking meat with the tangiest of tastes.  Although normally served with kateh, a Mazanderan easy-to-cook rice dish with oil and salt, we chose our favourite saffron topped rice.  Add to that a fabulously zingy salad, and I can’t remember the last time we ate kebabs so quickly. 

It tasted that good!

So, the moral of the story is, if you still don’t listen to the one you love, you can always Google a good restaurant to get you off the hook!

Torsh-e Kebab

What you need:

1 kg chicken, lamb or beef

1 cup walnuts

¾ cup of pomegranate syrup

2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil

2 to 3 cloves of garlic, crushed

1 cup of fresh parsley, finely chopped

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Metal or bamboo skewers for grilling

What to do:

The night before…

Chop the meat into sizeable chunks for grilling on a bar-b-q.

Place the meat in a large glass or casserole dish.

Combine the walnuts, pomegranate syrup, olive oil and garlic.  If you have a food processor or blender, toss them in and blend them together well.  Add the parsley and process until you have a fine paste.

Pour the marinade over the meat and mix well.

Cover and leave in the fridge over night.

When you are ready to grill…

If you are using bamboo skewers, it is helpful to soak them in slightly salty water for about 10 to 15 minutes.  This will prevent the skewer from burning and keep the meat moist.

Skewer the meat.  Letting the meat rest at room temperature for about 30 minutes until you are ready to grill is helpful if you have time.

Grill the meat, turning regularly, until ready. Sprinkle the salt and pepper on the skewers as they grill.

Serve with rice, salad, flatbread and grilled tomatoes.