about

During cold winter nights we all sat around, under the Korsi* to keep cosy and warm. Outside my grandma’s house we could only see shimmering glitters of snowflakes happily bouncing on top of one another. After dinner, Mamma Touran used to serve a wholesome pastry, called Komach Sehen. This special desert was made with freshly stoneground wheat-germ flour, dates, walnuts and spices. The aroma of Komach Sehen was to die for and everyone impatiently waited to eat it with a cup of freshly brewed tea from the samovar**.

While munching on the hot pastry and sipping the tea, we would listen to sweet stories, told by Mamma Touran.

Then it was Yalda, the longest night of the year, the only night when the stories stretched way beyond our bed-time. On this special occasion we would always have extra treats, such as skillfully peeled pomegranate florets, bamieh*** and snow-fluffs that were saturated with home-made grape syrup. Of course those days Tehran was not such a polluted city, therefore it was safe to indulge in some freshly landed snowflakes!

Everyone would have a chance to hear more stories as the night was much longer. Mamma Touran would then ask her grand-children to think about and have a discussion on the “moral of the story”.

Memories of my beloved grandmother and the messages those stories contained, inspire me to create characters who could convey similar messages to new age children and young adults.

I also love to revive anything from ancient times, be it in nature, history, culture or food.