Rosewater and Soda Bread

by Marsha Mehran

  “You throw the last piece of your apple over your left shoulder and turn quickly to look at your reflection. Whatever picture you see in the mirror is supposed to be your future,” Layla replied. She put her hand on her sister's arm, gave her a long, deep look. “Are you all right, Marjan?”

  Marjan patted her hand. “Of course I am,” she said. From across the room she could see Bahar looking at her as well.

  Ever since she had told her sisters about Gohid and Ali, they had been treating her deferentially, nearly tiptoeing around her, really. She had even been ordered to take a holiday by Bahar, who had insisted on doing all the café's cooking herself for the rest of the week. They had a long and good cry about it, the three of them, especially when Marjan described her last glimpses of Ali before he was arrested. That was something she would never forget.

  Marjan could see that Layla remained unconvinced. “I'm fine, joon-e man. Don't worry,” she assured her.

  Layla nodded, smiling with relief. “Is Mrs. D coming?” she asked, searching the crowd.

  “She's resting tonight. But she'll be at the church tomorrow.”

  Marjan had not been up to the white cottage since yesterday, when she had brought Sean McNully to see his daughter, but the Italian widow had related the latest on the phone that morning:

  “She is talking still! Yes! Not too much, but enough. Her papa was in there for three hours again today, they talk for three hours! Can you believe this? What a wonderful day! And she is staying here for more time. What happiness!” she exclaimed. “Tomorrow her papa and I are going to the hospital, to see Dr. Parshaw. He should not lose his job, he did nothing wrong. Nothing wrong at all.”

  Estelle was breathless with excitement. “And you want to know something else? You want to know what she said? Very quiet, only this morning? I bring her tea, just tea, and she says to me, ‘Thank you, Estelle.’ Just like this: ‘Thank you, Estelle.’ She knows my name, Marjan! Isn't that something wonderful?”

  It was something wonderful, thought Marjan; there were so many blessings to be thankful for, so much beauty in their lives at the moment.

  Malachy approached Marjan, a sheepish look on his handsome face. “About last week, Marjan. At the Inn. I just wanted to say that—”

  “You don't have to say anything,” Marjan said, holding up her hand. “That's between you and Layla.” She winked at her youngest sister, who gave her a shy smile back.

  “Thanks, Marjan,” Malachy replied.

  “Not a problem,” she said, feeling suddenly very proud of Layla and Malachy. It was clear to her that they had a deep respect for each other. That was hard enough to sustain in any romance, let alone one in your teen years.

  The young couple, with Regina in tow, moved to the Mirror line while a reel started in the open area in the center of the hall. Two rows of couples lined up for the traditional dance as the Covies jigged away to “The Boys of Belfast.” Marjan thought of what Julian had said to her before dropping her off from their beautiful evening at Ashford Castle. “I'll be in Dublin during the ceili, but you save a dance for me all the same. There'll be plenty of dancing once I get back, I promise.” She smiled at the memory. She couldn't wait.

  Someone coughed behind her.

  Marjan turned, knocking right into Dara O'Cleirigh.

  Dara nodded cordially as he stepped back. “Hello again.” He was without his usual rain jacket, though his dark hair was as windswept as it had been on the boat's deck.

  Marjan couldn't hide her surprise. “What are you doing here?” She stopped. “I mean, hi. How are you?” The last time she had seen him was at the dock back in Clew Bay, before she and Sean had driven off to Estelle's.

  “Grand now, if I get my workin' done.” He lifted the large Canon camera hanging from his neck. “I do bits for the Con-naught every now and again. Trips to Argentina have to pay for themselves some way.”

  Before Marjan had a chance to say anything else, Dara moved away, flicking his left hand from his head in an abrupt good-bye. His faithful dog, Escher, had come with him and was currently sniffing away at a perturbed Godot.

  Fiona sidled up to Marjan with a large candied apple. “Who was that?”

  “Just someone I met the other day. He's very strange,” said Marjan thoughtfully.

  “He reminds me of my ex.” Fiona sniffed, referring to her late German puppeteer of a husband. “Stay away from the artists,Marjan. They'll only give you heartache,” she said, biting into her shiny treat.

  “Oh, I'm not looking for an artist,” Marjan replied. “At least not someone like him, that's certain.”

  Fiona clucked approvingly. “Good girl, yourself.” She nudged Marjan. “Now why don't you get yourself a divination while you're at it?”

  Marjan glanced at the line weaving its way to the gilt mirror. “Why not?” She turned back to Fiona. “Are you coming?”

  The hairstylist narrowed her eyes in discontent. “Looks like my future's all set. I predict that devil of a goat's got his eye on the stage there. Better grab his billy before he tears down the veil.” She marched purposefully toward Godot and his owner, both of whom were inching their way to the proscenium. Dara O'Cleirigh and his Canon were trailing the degenerate duo closely. The photographer had the same instincts as Fiona; his camera was shuttering away in anticipation of a grand old ruckus.

  Marjan smiled as she watched Fiona brandish her candied apple at the Cat before turning to Maura Kinley

  “Got yours already sliced, Marjan,” the treasurer said with a wide grin. “No one our age should be kneeling for her luck.”

  Marjan accepted the plate of apple slices. “Easy now, Maura. I'm not getting my pension yet,” she said with a laugh.

  “But you'll be looking for a husband soon enough, I'd say. That's the real purpose of the Mirror,” Siobhan Kelly piped up next to her. The shoe shop owner pointed to the last rule on the big blackboard. “I'm not standing here for anything less.”

  Marjan leaned forward to read the small print.

  Disclaimer: Maidens with marital aspirations beware: the Lady in the Mirror has a spiteful air. Freud has nothing on her, that's for sure. Keep away if you like your nights free from the desires of men.

  Marjan smiled. Fiona's contribution, no doubt. Or Germaine Greer's. She turned to the growing line behind her. She had not noticed it before, but it seemed as though most of the village's unmarried women had taken their dripping turns at the tub of bobbing apples.

  “Must have missed that last rule,” Marjan said, feeling a little giggle rise in her throat.

  “If you don't want to risk finding out, just take a bit out of your throw slice. That'll keep Cupid at bay for a while,” Maura offered.

  “Thanks. I think I might do that.” Marjan picked up one glistening red slice. She took a healthy bite out of it, relishing the briskness of its red skin as it broke between her teeth. The fruit had a particular taste of earth and Atlantic showers that was nothing like the sweeter version she remembered from Iran. What autumn bounty, indeed, she thought.

  With her mind on the coming season, Marjan faced her reflection in the mirror.

  “You have to turn away from the Lady, or she'll never tell you her secrets,” Julian whispered in her ear. “Isn't that a woman for you?”

  Marjan gave a little gasp as she felt his palm settle on the small of her back. She blinked at the reflection before her. It was him all right.

  “Not a big fan of putting my life in her avaricious hands. At least not if I can help it,” he said, inching closer.

  Marjan smiled at the welcome face in the Mirror. “I think Lady Fate's disappeared for the moment.” She tilted her head up at Julian. “What happened to going to Dublin?”

  He smiled. “Had a change of heart halfway there. The local contractor can handle it, I told myself. It'll cost me an arm and a leg less. Not to mention get me into the good graces of this mercurial parish of ours.” He leaned forward and winked toward the line of women behind Marjan. “Evening, lad
ies. Looking your usual gorgeous selves tonight, I see. Ah, if I could only stop the hands of time and have a dance with each of you—a happy man I'd surely be.” There were blushes of delight all around, followed by a few faces looking rather hopeful at the thought. Marjan resisted a giggle.

  “You'll have them eating out of your hands if you're not careful, Mr. Muir,” she said, shaking her head.

  “That's precisely where I want to keep them.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “Better to leave my lips free for you alone, that is, if you're willing.” Then, right there, in front of the entire village gathered, with the swoon of the ceili band rising in four-step over them, his lips met hers in an apple-scented kiss.

  The Lady in the Mirror could wait another year, thought Marjan. She had found her destiny.

  “IT'S A QUARTER TO MIDNIGHT, everyone, time to wrap things up before the fairy folk make their way across from their underworld!”

  Father Mahoney stood at his post in one corner of the stage, his trusty Ari 3000 turned up to full hilt.

  “Let's not forget, this All Hallows' Eve is a feast of the dead,” he said. “As well it's a bit of a bash for all those who have yet to be born. There'll be a parade of souls, both fairy and otherwise, moving across the fields, and I for one am not taking my chances.

  “Grab a loaf of Mrs. Boylan's currant soda bread on the way out. Leave it on your doorstep or on your kitchen table, with some whiskey if you can spare it. It'll keep the folk from knocking down your way.

  “And be sure to tune in on Monday when I'll recount the whole history of this sacred holiday. I'll be seeing you at Mass tomorrow, bright and sharp for All Souls' Day!” Father Mahoney waved at everyone.

  The last of the ceili revelers filed out of Town Hall, punch-drunk on merriment and cider. Most paused at the door, where a plank table was piled with cellophane-wrapped loaves of soda bread.

  Marjan and Julian each took a loaf from Mrs. Boylan, while Danny Fadden waived his chances, not wanting to keep his Finnegan away.

  ALL SOULS' DAY broke like any given Sunday in the West of Ireland: cast in a downpour, a skull of rain hoisting the turf-infused air through the curving streets of hamlets. But for three sisters, standing in a warm kitchen, it was a morning like no other.

  “It's my first full official Mass,” Bahar said, standing on the landing of the stairs. “I've only ever sat for service a few minutes at a time,” she explained with a timid smile. “Well, it won't be official-official until I'm baptized next year.”

  “You look beautiful,” said Marjan. “Is that a new dress?”

  Bahar grabbed the hem of the white wool and lace outfit, tugging it into an awkward but endearing curtsy. “Do you think it's too much?”

  Marjan shook her head. “It's perfect.”

  “I'd rethink the hat, though,” Layla said, smirking at her sister.A small pillbox, complete with speckled lace veil, sat at an angle on Bahar's dark head.

  “I'm going to let that go this time. Are we ready?” Bahar said and grabbed her coat from the wooden stand.

  Marjan and Layla slipped on their jackets and grabbed their umbrellas. Even though the church was only up the street, they would need to drive in order to miss a soaking.

  Bahar had her hand on the doorknob when Marjan stopped her. “Wait.” She hurried around the kitchen island and opened the cupboard.

  “We're going to be late,” warned Bahar.

  “Hold on,” Marjan said, reaching behind a tin of pistachio nougats. She found the bottle, unscrewing the cap as her back was turned to her sisters. She upended it, letting the rosewater, the priceless tears of that queen of blossoms, pool in her cupped hand.

  She turned back to Bahar and smiled. “Better late than never,” she said, showering her sister with a brand-new day.

  Now that the rose has faded

  and the garden is ravaged,

  Where shall we find the rose's essence?

  In rosewater.

  ½ cup olive oil

  1 cup fresh fenugreek, chopped, or 3 tablespoons dried fenugreek

  ½ cup fesh dill, chopped

  1½ cups fesh parsley, chopped

  1 cup fesh cilantro, chopped

  ½ cup fesh chives, chopped

  2 cups fesh spinach, chopped

  3 medium onions, chopped

  3 teaspoons turmeric

  2½ pounds stewing lamb, cut into 1-inch cubes

  3 tablespoons lemon juice

  4 cups water

  Salt

  Pepper

  4 dried limes

  2 16-ounce cans red kidney beans, rinsed

  Heat a deep pan with ¼ cup olive oil. Add all herbs and spinach, stirring occasionally over medium heat for 15 minutes. Set aside.

  In a large stockpot, heat remaining ¼ cup olive oil, then add onions and turmeric. Stir until golden brown. Add lamb, cooking for approximately 6 to 7 minutes, or until brown. Add cooked herbs, lemon juice, water, salt, and pepper. Let boil, then cover and simmer over low heat for 1 hour.

  Add dried limes. Cover and let simmer for 40 minutes. Add kidney beans, cooking for 20 minutes, covered. Using a fork, pierce the limes, releasing their juices into the stew. Remove from heat.

  Serve with a side of polow, saffron rice.

  2½ pounds white potatoes

  1½ pounds kale, chopped roughly

  ⅔ cup buttermilk

  ⅓ cup heavy cream

  2 leeks, chopped finely

  2 sticks butter, softened

  ½ cup chives, chopped finely

  Salt

  Black pepper

  Boil potatoes in their skins, in salted water, for 30 minutes or until tender. Drain and set aside.

  Blanch kale in boiling water for 4 minutes. Drain and set aside.

  In a small saucepan, heat buttermilk and cream. Add leeks and simmer for 5 minutes, or until soft. Set aside.

  Peel potatoes and mash well, adding softened butter. Add milk and leeks, kale, chives, and salt and pepper to taste, mixing well. Eat as much as your luck (and stomach) will hold.

  ¾ cup unsalted butter, melted, at room temperature

  ¼ cup corn oil

  2⅓ cups confectioners' sugar

  5 teaspoons ground cardamom

  4 cups chickpea flour, sifted

  1 cup shelled pistachios

  In a bowl, combine butter, oil, sugar, and cardamom. Slowly add flour, turning the mixture over until dough forms. Place on a clean surface and continue to knead until even.

  Roll out dough to ¼-inch thickness. Using a cloverleaf cookie cutter or similar size shape, cut out cookies, approximately 30. Place on a baking sheet lined with waxed paper and leave to set for 30 minutes. Add one pistachio to each cookie center.

  Preheat oven to 300°F. Bake cookies for 10 minutes, or until slightly golden. Remove and leave to cool. Enjoy with a cup of sweet berga-mot tea.

  Salted pumpkin seeds

  Salted sunflower seeds

  Roasted cashews

  Roasted peanuts, salty

  Roasted hazelnuts

  Roasted almonds, salty

  Roasted pistachios, unshelled

  Dried apricots, chopped roughly

  Dried peaches, chopped roughly

  Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Toss to mix. Pass around to all guests and sundry in an act of true generosity.

  Vanilla ice cream

  3 tablespoons rosewater

  Pistachios, shelled and chopped

  Scoop three large balls of vanilla ice cream into a serving dish. Drizzle with rosewater and sprinkle with a handful of pistachios. Eat barefooted, sitting in a patch of clover leaves.

  7 eggs

  1 teaspoon cardamom

  1 teaspoon cumin

  2 teaspoons salt

  1 teaspoon pepper

  2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ½ cup fresh chives, chopped

  1 cup fresh cilantro, chopped

&
nbsp; 1 cup fesh parsley, chopped

  1 cup fesh dill, chopped

  1 stick unsalted butter

  Whisk eggs in a bowl. Add cardamom, cumin, salt, pepper, flour, and baking powder. Whisk until well mixed. Add all herbs. Mix once more.

  Heat butter in a medium-size, deep frying pan. Pour in egg and herb mixture, immediately lower heat, and cover. Cook for 20 minutes, or until kuku solidifies. Replace the lid with a large plate or platter, making sure it covers the pan completely. Flip the kuku over and slide it back into the pan. Cook the other side for 20 minutes on low heat. Eat with yogurt and cucumber dip, feeding the lover lying at your feet.

  8 cups water

  4 cups uncooked basmati rice

  4 tablespoons olive oil

  3 pounds boneless chicken breasts, cut in strips

  2 medium onions, chopped

  Saffron water (4 strands saffron dissolved in 8 tablespoons hot water)

  2 teaspoons turmeric

  ½ pound baby spinach

  7 eggs

  1½ cups thick, Greek-style yogurt

  2 teaspoons salt

  ½ teaspoon black pepper

  1 cup slivered almonds

  1 cup honey

  Bring water to boil in a large pot, add rice, and cover. Lower heat and simmer for 15 minutes, or until rice is tender. Drain any remaining water and set aside.

  Heat olive oil in a large frying pan. Add chicken, onions, and half the saffron water. Sauté for 15 minutes on medium heat, stirring occasionally. Add turmeric and spinach and sauté for 5 minutes. Set aside.

  In a nonmetallic bowl, whisk eggs and remaining saffron water. Add yogurt, salt, and pepper. Add chicken and spinach mixture. Mix well.

  Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9-by-13-inch casserole dish. Spoon in 2 cups of rice, patting it down evenly. Next, add half the chicken and spinach mixture. Layer again with 2 cups rice. Add remaining chicken mixture. Mix almonds and honey, layer over top. Cover with aluminum foil. Bake for 1½ hours. Remove from oven.