Nowruz With Our Dishoom-Walle

With each new season of festivals, celebrations and customs, we sit down with dear friends to explore the significance of these moments to them.

In this chapter, three of our Dishoom-walle share cherished memories of Persian New Year – the celebration of spring’s arrival. Nowruz, which literally translates as ‘New Day’, marks the Iranian solar calendar welcoming another year and winter drawing to a long-awaited close.

Our friends, each belonging to the Iranian diaspora, speak from distinct cultural corners. Linda, a member of the Customer Experience team, shares the traditions that travelled into her Swedish childhood from her mother. Roya, food writer and PR, Partnerships and Content-walli, offers reflections on her American-Iranian upbringing. And Hannah, our Copyeditor, shares small moments from Nowruz carried over to Yorkshire.

Let us venture through each tradition: thoughtful spring cleaning, communal fire jumping, laying the glorious Haft-Sin spread and gathering with family and feasts for a New Day.

Nowruz begins with Khaneh Takani. Walk us through that first stage of the New Year for you?

Linda: It isn’t just cleaning, it’s a spiritual clearing. I can still smell the Esfand (burning wild rue) in my grandmother’s flat – that’s the true scent of spring. All the grandchildren would line up, waiting for the smoke to waft under our noses before the Esfand was carried into each room to ward off bad luck.

Roya: The literal translation of Khaneh Takani is ‘shaking the house’. I love that idea of taking your home, turning it upside down and shaking it around – it truly is the deepest clean to start the year off on the right foot. And it’s the origin of spring cleaning, which is so cool. 

Hannah: From the end of February to the equinox, our family would honour Khaneh Takani. There was a particular effort to remove any dust and furniture left untouched all year would be rearranged. It’s a literal and spiritual dusting off for the new year.

Next comes Chaharshanbe Suri (Red Wednesday), how did you celebrate the festival of fire?

Linda: Out of all the various Nowruz celebrations, Chaharshanbe Suri is the one that I have the fondest memories of. I lived in a small community in the outskirts of Gothenburg, however, every year, countless Persians united. As a child, I remember the excitement of jumping over the (huge!) fires, the smell of smoke on our clothing, and eating hot ashe reshteh (herby noodle soup) from a humble paper cup.

Roya: Chaharshanbe Suri is a Zoroastrian ritual of jumping over fires. In our family, we jump three times to cleanse ourselves of bad vibes, bad energy and to prepare ourselves for the new year. Growing up in America, we celebrated with our large Iranian community, alongside students, neighbours, and children from non-Iranian backgrounds, too. Even during COVID, I asked my friends on Instagram to jump over candles, and 50 people took part, including their babies and pets! It’s superstitious, but I love how grounding it is.

Hannah: We never had any large festivals near us, however, we would enjoy the event’s traditional snack: ajil-e moshkel-gosha (dried fruit and nuts). The literal translation is ‘problem-solving nuts’, which is fitting as we attempt to resolve last year’s difficulties.

When we reach the main event, the equinox, the Haft-Sin table takes centre stage. What does the spread represent in your homes?

Linda: Haft-Sin (seven S’s) is made up of seven symbolic items: sabzeh (sprouts), samanu (sweet wheat pudding), senjed (dried fruit), seer (garlic), seeb (apples), serkeh (vinegar) and sumac (dried Persian spice). We’d also have a mirror, a goldfish in a bowl, and a holy book (in my family, it was a book of poetry). Legend has it that on the stroke of Nowruz, the goldfish would dance. As the rest of the room cheered in the new year, I remember keeping my eyes locked on the fish to watch for any unusual movement.

Roya: We always did a countdown of the vernal equinox next to the table. Then, the familial calls begin. Relatives from every corner unite over the phone to express how much they love each other.

Hannah: Even though not part of the seven S’s, we would also place decorated eggs on our table to represent new life. My cousin and I spent hours (competitively) decorating the eggs. More recently, my ancient childhood goldfish Ziggy would make his annual outing to the Haft-Sin table. Next to the gold coins, flowers, and decorative mirror he looked very regal for the allotted 13 days.

No Persian celebration is complete without the food. What are the 'must-have' dishes on your feasting table?

Linda: Fresh kuku sabzi (herb fritattas) with rice and fish, and chilled masto-o-khiar (cucumber mint yoghurt) is what I look forward to the most.

Roya: I’ll start with the ashe reshteh. The noodles symbolise health, and the herbs resemble spring. Prosperity, growth, new blossoms. Similarly, one much-loved dish is kuku sabzi: a fragrant egg and herb frittata. It’s one of my absolute favourites, so I’ve also shared the recipe for this kuku from my cookbook Maman and Me: Recipes from our Iranian American.

Hannah: Growing up, my Mum would delight in sabzi polo ba mahi (herb rice with fish) for Nowruz. Traditionally, white fish is enjoyed, however, in recent years, she would grill lemon salmon with dried dill rice. I’d secretly spoon butter underneath the tahdig (crispy rice top), so the dish became even more heavenly. For our family, another less conventional favourite is havij polo ba morgh (saffron rice with carrots and chicken); my mum lets it simmer for hours, and the entire house is perfumed with saffron.

Once Nowruz begins, the focus shifts to family and the tradition of Eid Deedani. How did you celebrate?

Linda: It’s customary to visit older family members. Because my mum was child number three out of seven, we had lots of visits to make. It’s a very lively time of year with an abundance of family time, chatter and excitement.

Roya: After Nowruz, Eid Deedani begins. It means gathering with everybody special in your life. My mum would always throw a big party for dozens of guests, maybe 50 to 100 people would be invited to cook together. And there’s the Eidi – the little gifts given. In America, my mum’s tradition was to exchange $100 into two-dollar bills, everyone who visited would receive a note from the stack. You rarely spend two-dollar bills, so it was mainly symbolic.

Hannah: Growing up, I found the concept of Eidi at Nowruz exceptionally exciting. As the youngest, it was thrilling that only children received gifts. I grew up in East Yorkshire, which isn’t home to a large Persian diaspora. I would feel quietly proud that I’d be able to celebrate this tradition; the only girl I knew receiving a little Eidi from my favourite people.

Finally, it’s Sizdah Bedar (the thirteenth day spent outdoors). How do you mark that final ritual?

Linda: My Sizdah Bedar was fairly low-key. My closest family would gather near one of the local rivers, eat great food, tie the sprouts, and let them go. Watching the sprouts travel away in the river really did signify the start of a new season for me.

Roya: It's not just the equinox that’s important. It's the period in between then and Sizdah Bedar, which literally means ‘thirteen to the door’. In other words, bad luck is officially shown the door. We take the sabzeh (sprouts) to a park, we savour ashe reshteh, there are possibly kebabs. You find a body of water, it could be a tiny lake or a puddle, and you throw the sprouts in. It's out with the old, in with the new: let the new year begin.

Hannah: My family would gather around the pond in our garden, where I would dutifully tie a knot in the sprouts. Every year, my grandma reminded me that the knot tying meant good luck in finding a husband. Her sentiment might have been a little old-fashioned, but I find the symbol of two blades knotted together as people bound in love, intrinsically connected to nature, very lovely. And so the new year begins: full of hope, renewal and a deep appreciation of family.

What’s the difference between Nowruz and Navroz? Nowruz is the Persian New Year commemorated across Iran and Central Asia, whereas Navroz is the same festival honoured by Parsi and Irani Zoroastrians in South Asia.