A friend asked me, “What possessed you to make those?”
“My friend Noosha, who was born in Iran, shared the recipe with me… I believe the cookies are a traditional food in her culture. I wanted to try them… to build our connection… and! I’m curious.”
The day that I made the cookies, I shared photos with Noosha along the way.
Biting into the first warm, flaky, confection… I tasted… rose.
Different.
Not bad… but not good either.
An exploration.
One in our household thinks Persian rice cookies taste like the animal crackers he ate in childhood.
A hunch told me 15 Persian cookies might languish if I left them on my counter. I packaged up 8 of them and took them to yoga class on Tuesday night. After we stretched and strengthened, I shared the treats.
Everyone — 7 yogis — took and tried a cookie.
I got to tell them about my friend and editor who shared the recipe. We talked about where I purchased rose water and rice flour.
“Rose water is an excellent skin toner.”
“These taste like a bite of Spring!”
“I’m saving some so that my husband and daughter can have a taste.”
All of this… because I chose to make the cookies.
The unforeseen variety of outcomes from baking these cookies reminds me of the ripples from the pebble tossed into the pond! Bravo.
Certainly Farsi and not a farce. Seems as if they were a hit over all. Congrats!