As the friendly Fringe front-of-house staff guides us across the stage to our seats, Isabella Nefar is already busy cooking. With garlic, onions, and spices, she is recreating an Iranian kitchen on stage while we file in. My English Persian Kitchen, by Hannah Khalil, is inspired by the real-life story of Atoosa Sepehr, who shares bowls of ash-e reshteh with the audience as we depart.
My English Persian Kitchen tells the story of a woman fleeing Iran to escape an abusive marriage. While it could easily fall into the stereotype of marriage in Iran, the play quickly subverts this by revealing that 85% of women in Iran are highly educated, far from the powerless housewives often depicted. However, despite their education and independence, the law remains deeply gendered, even allowing husbands to block their wives’ passports.
After years of suffering, she escapes to London—a city masked by cold faces and indifferent politeness. In this place where language forms a barrier around her, our protagonist finds comfort in cooking, an act her mother performed not out of obligation but out of joy. The smell and warmth of Iranian recipes transport her back to the home she will never return to, while also helping her forge new friendships and build a community in her new life.
The Iranian kitchen in her new life is simple yet fully equipped, containing everything necessary for the perfect pot of ash-e reshteh: a kitchen counter with electric hobs, a fridge, a bar stool, and a pendant lamp. Using this modest setup, Isabella Nefar and director Chris White skilfully braid together intertwined narratives with perfect balance. As she navigates the challenges of escaping the past and battling the loneliness of life in London’s cold and indifferent politeness, Nefar prepares the soup noodle dish with precise timing, seamlessly blending cooking and storytelling.
For any dish to achieve excellence, three aspects must be considered: flavour, appearance, and aroma. Rather unusually, My English Persian Kitchen manages to tick every box, particularly when it comes to the final element.
As the food is prepared and cooked on stage, the mouth-watering aroma fills the air, even during the darkest and most desperate moments when her husband’s voice haunts the space and the light goes out. We can almost taste the satisfaction it promises, even from our seats. This becomes a perfect metaphor for the play’s message: no matter how challenging rebuilding a new life may be, there is always something comforting, beautiful, warm, and delicious that makes it worth living.
For those interested, a sprinkle of dried fried mint, warmed in your hand, will work magic on your ash-e reshteh.
My English Persian Kitchen is running until 25 August (except 19) at Traverse Theatre – Traverse 2.
Buy tickets here.
Image by Ellie Kurttz provided to The Student for press use