The Washington Post

As a food writer, and one of Jewish descent, I find it encouraging to see more Americans open up to Middle Eastern food. If it’s not a full-throttle enthusiasm for the cuisines of that region themselves, then it’s the growing popularity of their ingredients. We’ve got tahini in our chocolate tarts and pomegranate molasses drizzled on our roast vegetables, and we like it.

But I’ve noticed something: The same people who’ve begun welcoming harissa and hummus into their pantries tend to think of Israeli cuisine as a kind of catchall or synecdoche for all Middle Eastern cooking. This made me slightly wary to select an Israeli title for this list.

I’ve noticed something else: A lot of the survey cookbooks that try to get at multiple countries and regions can feel dated, or dauntingly encyclopedic, and often aren’t so great on recipes.

When I started to think about which of the cookbooks that deal with Middle Eastern cuisine have been the most successful, those observations became moot. Iranian-born Naz Deravian’s “Bottom of the Pot” is that rare title that’s both edifying and relatable, probably because she personalizes it.

Her family left Tehran when she was a child amid the chaos and violence of the 1979 Iranian Revolution, and the comfort of homemade meals of chelo khoresh (rice and stew) shared at the kitchen table. They moved to Rome, the city where her parents met, a “safe haven” where platters of tomatoes and mozzarella were served one night, and chelo kebab (rice and kebab) another. Next, they landed in Canada, where Deravian stayed until moving to Los Angeles after college.

Missing “a taste of home,” she asked her mother to share the recipes for her favorite Persian dishes. Except they weren’t exactly recipes. “This was cooking that relied on intuition, constant tasting and a good dose of lemon juice.” In her debut, Deravian translates that cooking into recipes of her own that come attached to stories.

Everyone loves a good story, but this is a cookbook list; the food’s gotta come first, and if it doesn’t pass muster, the whole enterprise is a fail. I shouldn’t have to tell you, “Bottom of the Pot” passes with flying colors. 

Persian food is divine. I’m sure you’ve heard about this tahdig everyone’s talking about; wouldn’t you like to try it? To get the bottom of your pot to produce that saffron-dyed golden sunset-colored crust of rice so crispy that the crunch reverberates around the table? (I’ve done it. It takes practice and patience, but even the iffy results are irresistible.) Wouldn’t you love to serve nazkhatoun, a smoky-tart-sweet dip of charred, collapsing eggplant popping with pomegranate seeds at your next dinner party? (My hand is raised.) Or offer one of a multitude of warming stews, like the intensely herbaceous, fenugreek-fragranced lamb dish khoresh ghormeh sabzi, which Deravian says “could very well be the dish of Iran” to your loved ones? (Um, yes.) To appreciate sourness, and the scene-stealing capabilities of fresh herbs? (Thank you for this, Naz!) To waste nothing and feel as though you’re eating food fit for royalty? (What silly goose is saying “no” right now?)

Now that I’ve managed to trigger my own hunger pangs, I’m signing off to make Deravian’s Kateh Estamboli. You should, too! Make it for dinner tonight! You probably have all the ingredients you need lying around: It’s rice with tomatoes and potatoes, and a few seasonings that go a long way. Oh, and you can put an egg on it.