During a family vacation to Iran last winter, I had a chance to treat myself to one of the iconic foods in Persian cuisine. It is called Abgoosht, a hearty stew-like dish comprised of mutton, various beans, potato, and spices, slow cooked in crocks, and served in cylindrical stone bowls called dizi. Despite being one of the oldest known dishes, Abgoosht remains a rarity on the menu of most popular restaurants until recently.
Ever since coffeehouses started serving kebabs, skewered liver, and Hookah, some restaurants in Tehran serve Abgoosht under Chef’s Special Order. Not only on menu, coffeehouses have transformed from being male-only hangout places to more family-friendly entertainment destinations. Some of the coffeehouse owners hired architects to redesign the houses according to Iran’s old and nostalgic paintings and design in order to attract both domestic and foreign visitors. While in the same space, I could feel relaxed and taken care of, thanks to Iran’s hospitable culture.
Dizi-sara, a high-end restaurant in central Tehran, is known for its quality Abgoosht, ambiance, and ease of access to home-made meal. Dizi-sara is located at Kalantari Street, Tehran’s business district, typically overwhelmed by crowds. The restaurant is nested in an old brick two-story building, adorned with beautiful mosaic tile over a blue turquoise narrow door.
After spending a leisurely time browsing through the artifact at the Kalantari Street, my food-lover and I arrived at the restaurant late in the afternoon. We thought the hustle and bustle of the restaurant must have subsided by then since many of the restaurant’s guests are business people and shop owners of the neighborhood. We were getting ready to enjoy our Abgoosht in a quiet and nice environment. To our surprise, the restaurant was as busy as it could get.
Many young male and female city-slackers like us, in groups of two or more, sending their impatient glares toward a middle-aged man sitting behind a pity-looking wooden desk with a notebook at Dizi Sara. We stepped in front of the desk.
Man: How many?
Me: Table for two, please! How long before we get in?
Man: Could be 45 minutes. As you see we are very busy today.
Writing down my name and putting a 2 by it, he then handed me a buzz disc, like the ones they hand out at Cheesecake Factory. He motioned us to wait outside.
It was almost 3 p.m. that the buzzer in my hand finally went off. I was so happy that I could finally attend my hungry belly. Passing through the narrow door, we were welcomed by the delicious smell of Abgoosht.
As we were walking down to our table, I noticed the paintings on the wall depicting Iran’s ancient royal hunting. A piece of folklore music added a pleasant ambiance to our hungry appetite. The humble furniture was practical: wooden tables covered with reddish tablecloths along with benches and blue-tiled platforms decorated with matching cushions for more comfort.
With the limited space and constant traffic of people moving in and out of the restaurant, the waiters put on an entertaining show of carrying huge trays filled with bowls of food, chutneys and jars of drinks, on one hand, balancing the trays right above their heads.
The restaurant only serves lunch. The crowd started gathering by the door around 11 a.m. There was only one dish to order on the menu, along with a variety of side dishes like pickled garlic and onion, chutney, fragrant seasonal herbs like basil and mint, cucumber, salad and of course a specialty house baked flat bread called Sangak.
The food arrived on our table in a tall bowl with goosht-koob, a tall pestle with a handle and a round smooth bottom to mash the solids, and a wide-mouthed bowl. This is a dish that requires some biceps workout and rolling up sleeves before fully enjoying it. I held the ingredients back in the bowl with the fork and tilted the stone bowl to transfer the broth to the other bowl. Then I added plenty of bite size Sangak bread to soak. This portion is called tilit or dunked bread.
To prepare the meat and beans combination, I worked my way through them by mashing the solid ingredients in the cylindrical bowl with the help of the pestle until well-mixed and then transferred the mix into a plate. This part is called goosht-koobideh or mashed meat. To put the final touch, I drizzled a generous amount of fresh lemon juice. It was finally time to dig in. And you bet, it was DELICIOUS! There is not really a professed order in eating the tilit and goosht-koobideh but usually the first one is treated as a soup and the latter as the main course.
If you are not sure how to participate in preparing the mashed meat, the friendly waiters at Dizi-sara are always willing to do the honor for you. Sadly I learned about the extra help quite late, after I made a noticeable greasy spots all over my jacket. Lesson learned for the next visit!
The best way to conclude a good meal like Abgoosht was to enjoy a glass of hot tea with sweet Bamieh, Persian Churros, a sweet stick dipped in rosewater syrup.
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