Taste Makers by Unknown

Taste Makers by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Epub3
Publisher: W. W. Norton & Company


MOHAMMAD LOOKED LIKE a movie star. He had a handlebar mustache; he wore a T-shirt and roughed-up blue jeans. Najmieh took notice of him immediately at the party that night in 1977. Tehran was a loose, fun place to be back then. Women like her caked their faces in makeup; men dressed as if they lived in London or Paris. Mohammad had, in fact, done his schooling at the Architectural Association School of Architecture in London. Now back in Iran, he was working in construction with his brother.

Najmieh and Mohammad spoke throughout the duration of the party, though the conversation came to a halt when he suddenly fell asleep on her lap, exhausted from a wearying work project. All Najmieh could do was stare at him. She’d never seen a more beautiful man. Najmieh had a feeling she would marry Mohammad. But they would not wed until 1979, when Iran changed drastically. Ayatollah Khomeini overthrew the Shah, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, in February of that year, sparking the Iranian Revolution. Family members told them that a revolution was no time to get married. They did it anyway in June. The couple had a low-key wedding with no more than thirty people in attendance, a small affair by Iranian standards; they served their guests javaher polow, or jeweled rice, a wedding dish with orange peels, almonds, barberries, and pistachios.

It was a joyous day, distracting Najmieh from the misery of life in Iran. Many of her friends started leaving the country, wanting nothing to do with the revolution. Pretty soon, Najmieh and Mohammad decided to follow suit. One of Najmieh’s older sisters once lived in France, which was one of the few countries that didn’t require extensive paperwork for Iranians at the time. The city of Nice, in particular, had become a hub for Iranian refugees. Though Najmieh didn’t know a word of French, she packed her belongings in late 1979 to flee for Nice. She brought along that scrapbook of her mother’s recipes, which she’d been adding to since her return to Iran in 1975, to buffer her against any sorrow. It was a difficult parting, full of uncertainty. Najmieh once dreamed of raising a family in Tehran. The image of her parents crying as she left stayed with her. Maybe she’d never see them again. Mohammad couldn’t join her just yet, either, due to problems with his documents. There was an added complication to her departure: Shortly before leaving, Najmieh learned that she was pregnant.



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