She has been having difficulty understanding she doesn't need to freeze them.
"I put plastic on them," she says.
"They'll melt on the plane," I tell her.
"No, is just a couple hour."
"No, it's a 6 hour flight. The khoresht will get everywhere."
Imagine the melted mess. And I can't put them with my luggage, because they're perishable.
"Let me just do it," she says.
I don't argue. It wasn't worth it.
I am going to be flying on Continental with an entire restaurant of dishes. People on the flight will be like, "What is that smell? Mmmm, it smells like khoresht a gameh. What a wonderful dish."
And I'll say, "Wow, you know you're Persian cuisine. Do you want to see if both of us can fit in the bathroom. I've been doing yoga."
"Hmmm," the hitchhiker says. "Well, maybe for one of your 7 ziplocked containers of Khoresht."
"Forget it," I say. "Do you know how hard my mom worked and the grief I went through to make this delivery. Shit, in my family, this is the equivalent of the biggest motherload a Mafioso or Cuban druglord could hope for. This is khoresht, primo-grade-cuisine, khoresht-e-gameh to be exact. Yellow split peas and tomato paste to be even more particular."
"Yes," she says. "The saffron gives it kick."
"Yes," I say.
"So, you do yoga?" she asks.
"No, not really," I say. "I just traffic Persian food to my little brother. He is thin, according to my mom. Skin and bone. You know how it goes."
"No, I don't."
"Yeah, well," I look her up and down. She is just one rail. Nothing on her. She looks like she needed a few meals. I was pretty hungry too. "You want to try some Gameh?"
"Is that okay?"
"Yeah," I say. "Might as well get a taste for all the trouble.
I pull out one of the 7 containers.
"This is just between us though, okay?"
"Of course," she says
The first spoon is what keeps you coming back. It's why I'm living with my folks now. It's why all of you want to be my long lost adopted freak show. It's why my brother is excited to see me. It's the secret of any Persian household. Our food will make you weak in every part of your body. It will take any schizoid anarexic Glamour girl and give them a will to continue. It will give Ghandi no reason to protest. It will be the reason I never forget who I am. Those yellow split peas, saffron, and tomato paste. Ah, for sure.
To make a pot of yellow split peas (with meat, or without) visit