Mahdis Marzooghian

A Persian Brew

MAHDIS MARZOOGHIAN

I hail from the home of Hafez. Rumi ruminates in my blood. I am from a country that boasts 7,000 years of civilization, and sometimes, that’s how old my soul feels. But for many Iranians, all of that culture and history proves to be too much of a burden and responsibility, so they carry what little of it they can—or leave it all behind—and head to the West. Somewhere they can unload and start fresh.

I was only six when my family decided to leave Iran and immigrate to the United States, the young land of opportunity. The first two years of school were a terrifying time for me. I had no idea what my teachers and classmates were saying. I felt ashamed for being Iranian. Every morning, I would beg my parents to not make me go to school. I pouted and cried to no avail.

***

Upon entering a Persian home—the haven of hospitality—the host or hostess will offer a properly brewed, steaming cup of Persian tea, or cha-ee, along with sugar cubes, pastries, or chocolate. Tea is the beverage of choice, served with breakfast, post lunch and dinner, and any time in between. The history of tea in Iran dates back to the late 15th century. Before that, coffee was the main hot drink. Coffee houses, or ghahveh khaneh, were speckled alongside every main road as resting places for weary travelers. Many of the traditional ghahveh khanehs still remain, welcoming travelers and tourists alike. Today, however, they mainly serve tea rather than coffee.

***

On my seventh birthday, I unknowingly pulled the fire alarm in a public building. My mother ran over and dragged me away from the scene of the crime. We tried our best to look inconspicuous, following the crowd outside toward the parking lot. I asked mom if I could get chocolate cake as the fire engines pulled in.

***

English became easier once I started ESOL. I prayed the half-hour with my ESOL teacher, Mrs. Uzarowski would stretch on, not wanting to leave the sanctuary of her little room. At the end of each lesson, I was awarded with a treat from her jar of goodies. I loved Mrs. Uzarowski. She was a tall, middle-aged woman with a head of curly, strawberry blonde hair. Her nails fascinated me. They were always long, neat, and painted pink. One day, she told me they weren’t her real nails. I was heartbroken. She explained that she got fake nails at a salon and showed me her real nails underneath the perfectly painted plastic ones. They looked like brittle, yellowing paper. “My real nails are ruined. These plastic ones are hiding the real things,” she told me in that patient, melodic way she spoke. She had a strong yet lilting voice. “Don’t let the fake things in life cover up the real you.”

I graduated from ESOL at the end of third grade. I remember when Mrs. Uzarowski walked over to the classroom one last time to deliver my certificate and congratulate me. I wonder if she is still teaching ESOL at Pine Grove Elementary and what color her nails are nowadays.

***

Brewing the perfect Persian-style tea requires good quality long, loose leaf black tea. It is recommended to use a porcelain or china teapot. The teapot has several tiny holes within the spout, which act as a strainer. Additionally, a kettle is used to bring the water to a boil and serves as a stand for the teapot while the tea brews on the stove. It is best to use an electric samovar. The samovar was brought to Iran from Russia during the 18th century. There is a special perch on the top of the samovar for the teapot to sit while the loose, black tea leaves open up gracefully in the bubbling water.

***

Tim was a boy in my first grade class who bullied me. He used to punch me in my stomach and pull my hair during recess or every time he was next to me in line. I never complained about it to my teachers; I felt too much like an intruder. I almost wanted to thank him when he pulled my hair, thinking he was pulling the black right off.

***

Instructions: Fill the kettle, or samovar, with fresh cold water and bring to a boil. As soon as the water comes to a boil, warm up the teapot by rinsing it with some hot water. Place two tablespoons of tea into the teapot. Pour boiled water from the kettle/samovar over the loose tea leaves in the teapot. Fill it almost to the rim and put the lid back on. Securely place the teapot on the kettle/samovar. Allow the tea to brew for at least ten to fifteen minutes on medium to low heat.

***

During first and second grade, opening my lunchbox in front of my classmates was embarrassing. My mom packed me Persian food most of the time. Persian dishes generally consist of white rice—with golden morsels mixed in from the saffron —and a type of stew, like Ghormeh Sabzi or Gheymeh. My lunch was much different than my classmates’ lunches of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or Lunchables. Due to the teasing, I left my food untouched sometimes and waited to go home and eat.

***

Gently pour the tea into little glass teacups usually sitting daintily on matching saucers. Pour the tea slowly to prevent the creation of air bubbles. Traditionally, saucers are used to cool down the hot tea by pouring a little from the teacup into the saucer, blowing on it, and drinking from the saucer. However, this practice is usually frowned upon in front of guests or during formal events and parties. Depending on how strong or light you or your guests like the tea, balance it out with the boiled water in the kettle/samovar. When serving a large group of guests, it is good practice to have a tray with both light and dark tea.

***

Christina was the popular girl in my second grade class who hated me. During story time, all the girls played with each other’s hair. One day when I sat on the carpet for story time, Christina plopped down in front of me, undid her ponytail—her blonde hair cascading down like a golden waterfall—and asked me to play with her hair. I nodded as an evil idea popped into my head. I had ESOL before lunch. On that day, I chose a bubblegum lollipop for my treat and at lunch, licked it to its gum-filled center, tucking the big wad of gum underneath my tongue. Halfway into the story, I coughed and spat the pink, drool-drenched gum inside my hand. I stuck it within her locks, braided, and once it was well-hidden inside the braid, I tied the end with her hair tie. Christina kept the braid for the rest of the day, to my relief. When I was safely on the bus home, I imagined her reaction when she discovered the special styling gel I had used.

The next morning, Christina walked in with her hair chopped off, just scraping her jawline. A delicate uppercut; a total knockout. She never confronted me about it, but the teasing and bothering finally stopped.

***

To add extra flavor to the tea, you may add the following ingredients to the teapot: one tablespoon of rosewater (golab), two to three opened pods of green cardamom (hel), and two small sticks of cinnamon (darchin). As mentioned, cha-ee can be served with sugar cubes, dates, raisins, or other sweets. But for serious tea drinkers, adding sugar, milk or anything else only takes away from the rich, aromatic flavor.

***

I was twelve years old when I had my first real, all-consuming crush. His name was Tad and he played lacrosse. He sat across from me in homeroom, reading Harry Potter and completely oblivious to my feelings. Emma, the cute new girl from Malta, had a crush on him, too. She was blonde and had a sexy accent. I didn’t see what the big deal was because her breath always smelled like tuna fish. But every time she called his name in that accent, he would look up, cheeks red and blue eyes sparkling. When I called his name, he would look up with impatience, annoyed that I had interrupted his reading. I dreamed of her kissing him with that tuna fish breath.

***

Proper etiquette is to first serve the eldest and the ladies in your group of guests as you are making rounds with the tea tray. You need to also make sure that there is no spillage on the tray due to shaky hands or clumsy strides. The perfect Persian host or hostess must learn to gracefully float and carry a tea tray at the same time without spilling a drop of the reddish-amber liquid.

***

At seventeen, I had my first real, all-American boyfriend. I kept him a secret from my parents; dating was a touchy subject at the time and Brian was Jewish. He was popular, played football, and several other girls had crushes on him. But he was mine and he made me feel beautiful and I made the other girls feel jealous. We were making out one day in his basement, pretending to watch Talladega Nights, when he tried to stick his hand down my shirt. I stopped him. Things got awkward and I left. The next day, he wrote me a 5-page letter accusing me of being “prude” and listing reasons why he needed more physical intimacy. My mother later found the note in my purse and confronted me about it. We broke up two weeks before prom.

I still held on to the turquoise Hollister hoodie he got me for Christmas long after the breakup. We exchanged gifts one cold morning before school at Loch Raven Reservoir. We stood there in silence for a few minutes before heading to school. He had his arms around me as I overlooked the iced-over reservoir, wishing the morning mist would swallow us up and keep us frozen in that moment, just like the water.

***

Drinking tea is not just a pastime—it has been part of the Persian culture for centuries. My father always jokes that a true Persian’s veins contain a perfectly balanced concentration of half-blood, half-tea. Half and half. Like the experience I had when I came to the U.S. An imperfectly balanced concentration of Persian and American. Of being grounded by Persian roots, yet trying to grow American leaves. But my tea leaves will always be Persian.

MAHDIS MARZOOGHIAN is co-founder and Editor-in-Chief of Five on the Fifth. She has a Master’s Degree in Professional Writing from Towson University. Mahdis is currently Assistant Managing Editor at Money Map Press, an Agora Publishing Company, based in Baltimore City. Her nonfiction essay, "Going Back" was published in Heartwood Literary Magazine's October 2016 issue. Her nonfiction essay, "Collarbone Confessions" was published in the December 2017 issue of University of Baltimore's Welter Literary Journal and her latest nonfiction essay, "Lingua Nova" was published in Mud Season Review's issue #35. Additionally, she’s had a short essay, “Collection Connection,” published in the series anthology, Miso for Life: A Melting Pot of Thoughts in 2012 (available on Amazon). She writes as often as she can and recently finished her debut novel. Mahdis is fluent in Farsi and French.