When I was little we lived in Iran. And every summer we would pile up as many relatives as we could into our sedan and drive up to one of the many beautiful towns along the Caspian Sea. Almost always, we were followed by a convoy of cars filled with our relatives and friends.
The three hour drive from Tehran would always include many stops along the way. We would always stop at one of the tea houses on the highway, nestled under the shade of trees, where we would stretch out on wooden beds covered with Persian rugs to have cups of tea and sometimes, fried eggs with fresh bread. Which is interesting, because all our cars were stocked with huge colanders of washed fruits, bags of nuts, roasted watermelon seeds, and flasks of tea, for snacking along the way.
And we also would usually have to make a stop for one of the cars to get new tires. Flat tires were inevitable, and since the cars were filled to the rim with people, luggage and food there was no room to carry a spare tire. And by the way, finding an open mechanic's shop that also had an inventory of tires would add another 3 hours to the drive over... sometimes the search would lead us to the house of a mechanic, which would leave his dinner table, and drive to his shop and give us the new tire. My father would kiss the mechanic goodbye, my mother and aunt would thank him profusely and pray for blessings for his ancestors for the huge favor he had just granted us. We would then quickly pile up into our car and take the tire to the car stranded on the side of the highway...
Masouleh, Iran |
Marinated Olives - For recipe visit turmericsaffron.blogspot |
Sooo true! Brings back so many fond memories and tastes.
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