Writing an Iranian Cookbook in an Age of Anxiety

Whenever my Iranian grocer in Los Angeles reminds me that this may be the last week for a given fruit, I tend to buy pounds and pounds of it, as if the season will cruelly pass me by. Or as if I might trip, fall, take too long dusting myself off, and pass it by. I panic with the arrival of fall’s first annab—jujubes. Winter’s anar and beh—pomegranates and quince—fill me with both joy and apprehension, as does spring’s chaghaleh badam and gojeh sabz—raw green almonds and sour green plums. And then there are early summer’s albaloo—sour cherries.

This panic set in once again sometime in June 2016. Having just signed my first book deal to write a Persian cookbook (recently published as ), I had no idea what to expect. But I did know that sour cherries would make an appearance, and if I didn’t buy them then, I’d have to wait until the following year—long after my deadline had passed. So I bought a crate of sour cherries, lugged them home from the store, and set to work. My method for making preserved was straightforward enough, yet when it came