WRITING CULTURE 2012: Film, Food & Beyond

One Day in Persia

November 9th, 2012 Written by | 1 Comment


(Pic:Steve McCurry)

On the corner of an indistinct street, tucked away behind the food trucks and bodegas that thrive off the cash strapped hustle and bustle of Baruch student life is Bamiyan, Murray Hill’s own little piece of Persia. The restaurant named after an area in northern Afghanistan famous for its large limestone cliff Buddhas opened in 1993 and is currently run by two brothers, one a former Afghan Supreme Court judge.

On the day we visited, it was 4.30 and unsurprisingly almost empty. Despite the decorative iron décor that surrounds the façade and the mosaic laden entrance as you head in through the front entrance, the place is an un intrusive vision amongst its bland neighbors.

Once inside, we are immediately greeted by the sole waitress who showed us cheerily towards our table by the window. The relaxing sounds of south Asian music, providing the perfect aural back drop to the myriad of Afghani maps, Persian rugs and art work that adorn the exposed brick and wood paneling. The vibe could be described as rustic. It’s as homely and authentic as I can imagine (having never been to Afghanistan) but the cracked paint on the walls suggest there may have been more profitable days in its almost twenty year history.

Bamiyan serves what is describes as ‘traditional Afghan cooking’ which if like me you are unfamiliar with what that is, translates to; lots of subtly spiced meat choices that come with rice, in particular chicken, minced beef and lamb, an excellent range of vegetarian dishes, several curries (lamb, chicken, seasonal fish and shrimp) and kebabs (kebobs), plus a choice of 9 teas including one with the customary Afghan blend of milk, sugar, cardomon and rose petals called Shir-Chay.

I chose to start by cleansing my palette with some green tea with ginger at $3.95 This delicious and comforting drink came piping hot in a beautiful silver pot for one within minutes.

As an appetizer, the table ordered the Fesenjan $8.95, a type of thick Persian stew made with tender boneless chicken and an appealing sweet and sour flavor, thanks to the presence of walnuts and pomegranate juice. As unimpressive as stews often are to the eye, the unique combination of ingredients in this dish were a delight to savor and easily shared amongst the table, helped along by a generous portion of fresh bread that we used to scoop up the satisfying sauce.

For the entre I chose Kabuli Palow with lamb $16.95. A rather uninspired decision on my part as there was no sauce at all and besides the rice (I opted to have the white basmati rice instead of the usual brown baked rice topped with shredded carrots and raisons) the dish simply came with a liberal pinch of onion on the side.

The lamb chunks didn’t disappoint however and were as juicy, succulent and expertly prepared as the chicken had been but there was no hiding from how safe and yes, boring it was. I suspect the local gyro food truck nearby could possibly have given this dish a superior run for half the money but the Mantoo, a lasagne-looking steamed beef dumpling topped with yogurt and meat sauce ($14.95), was being eagerly enjoyed by my dinner dates.

None of the four desserts including a baklava, home made vanilla ice cream (Malai e) fried dough (Elephants ear) or rice-flour pudding, really took our fancy, so we ended the lunch there, each of us vowing to return to try some of the more unusual items on the menu.

Tags: Restaurant Review

I just called to say….

November 9th, 2012 Written by | 2 Comments

If there is any silver lining about a natural disaster, it’s that they can often bring out the best in folks. For many people the frankenstorm was devastating, but for me in my little corner of Bed Stuy, it reminded me that I still have many people who watch my back, despite being thousands of miles and an ocean away from home.

As news of the impending storm began to reach the UK, emails from close friends started to come in “are you getting prepared?” was a common question asked, and “let me know that you are ok” became a frequent tweet. I was touched, they remembered I was here, potentially alone. I made sure to reply back straight away, and to heed their advice, I added a few vanilla scented candles from Foodtown and a couple of free boxes of matches from Duane Read to my weekly shop as a precaution.

By late Sunday night and early Monday afternoon the emails from close friends had been replaced by new ones from former work colleagues and industry acquaintances I hadn’t heard from in months. “Hey Emmy, the news is making it look apocalyptic out there, have you survived?” I had obviously, but again I was moved. I prepared for the worst by cooking up my chicken sausages and keeping the laptop and phone on permanent charge, in case of a power cut.

Whilst TV news teams throughout Tuesday and Wednesday updated the world on the rising death tolls, the flooding and Obama flying in to survey the damage, I stayed indoors. By now I was on full update duty, the initial trickle of emails had grown into a full flood of communication which spanned the breadth and depth of my address book and I jokingly told my girlfriend it was becoming a full time job just to make sure I replied to any and everyone who inquired about my well being.

Work made sure I knew not to come in, classmates frantically re arranged study sessions so that our projects could be completed on time and old, potentially new, and sometimes forgotten boyfriends popped up to either reconnect, check in, offer to wait out the storm with me or remind me of who they were before asking about my situation. In between answering emails, tweets, Skype and Facetime messages, I kept informed of all the travel news and weather reports. “You are loved” my girlfriend said, and I felt it.

Tags: Hurricane Sandy