About Paris

Where I come from, food is language.

When I was growing up in Iran, cooking was always how my family showed their loved ones how much they cared about them. Not a written note, not a heartfelt present — only the most mouthwatering, aromatic, and colorful Persian meals would do.

My infatuation with cooking, like so many others, comes from my parents and my heritage. My dad was an incredible grill master, whipping up juicy kabobs, lamb shanks, and steaks for the whole neighborhood; my mother put a spark in my soul with her rich, hearty stews, soups, and pilafs. I remember passing my childhood days peeking over the countertops at all the piles of fresh herbs and earthy spices, learning everything I could about where they came from, which recipes they worked best in, and their cultural ties.

Because in my culture, food is life. So many of our traditions and celebrations are centered around food — like Nowruz, the Persian New Year, or Shabeh-Yalda, the winter solstice, or countless others. None would be complete without a feast. As I grew up celebrating this culture, experiencing the fantastic flavors within it, and developing my cooking skills, what was once a hobby turned quickly into an unparalleled obsession.