My English Persian Kitchen: A Heartfelt Exploration of What We Carry When Forced to Leave Home
"My English Persian Kitchen" doesn't reveal much at first glance, but it poses a profound question that resonated with me: "What would you take if you had to leave home with no hope of returning?" It’s a question that lingered in my mind long after the play ended. For many of us, this may boil down to essentials like a phone, house keys, passport, or camera—but the heart of this play explores much deeper emotional and cultural baggage.
Upon entering the theatre, I was met with the actress already preparing food onstage—chopping onions and herbs, singing softly as we found our seats. This seemingly simple act set the tone for an intimate, immersive experience that would soon stir my emotions. In minutes, I was unexpectedly moved to tears, not just by the onions, but by the raw vulnerability of what unfolded.
At its core, the play tells the story of a woman who escapes an abusive relationship and starts anew in a foreign country, struggling to adapt to a new culture while learning a new language. It’s a relief to watch someone break free from toxicity, and the portrayal of this escape offers hope to anyone still searching for a way out. The kitchen, where the play is set, becomes a symbol of healing and rediscovery.
More than just a monologue, the play feels like a live cooking show—though with a twist. As the actress prepares a traditional Persian noodle dish, the audience is taken on a sensory journey through her memories of growing up in Iran. The fusion of storytelling and cooking was something I’ve never seen before, and the act of making food felt like a metaphor for reconstructing one’s identity in a new place.
The play begins with the question: "Are you surprised to see me in the kitchen?"—challenging stereotypes about Iranian women. She follows up with a powerful fact: there are more women attending university and working in Iran than men, an interesting twist on expectations.
What stood out the most was how seamlessly the play blended the personal with the political, using food as a vehicle for discussing issues like gender roles and anxiety. The actress openly struggled with anxiety attacks on stage, and the depiction was so honest and raw that it felt familiar. The racing heartbeat, heavy breathing, and moments of suffocation created a palpable tension that echoed her struggles to find peace in her new world, all while racing against the clock to prepare the meal for “them.” We never find out exactly who “they” are, but the sense of urgency is constant.
The sound design was another striking element—at times, I felt I was drowning in the waves of Tehran or lost in the chaos of her emotions, with heavy breathing and a thumping heartbeat filling the space. One of the most intense moments occurred when she locked herself in a fridge, and the combination of lights and sound brought to life the suffocating fear of being trapped—physically, emotionally, and metaphorically.
The play was also deeply interactive, with the actress involving the audience in the cooking process. I felt truly special when she asked me to smell the turmeric, making me feel like I was a part of her world. The room was filled with the rich aromas of her dish, which added an extra sensory layer to the performance.
What I loved most was her ability to improvise, finding alternative ingredients that reminded her of home. Unable to find Persian noodles, she used Japanese noodles as a substitute, explaining that they were gluten-free and similar. Likewise, when she couldn’t find Persian cream, she blended sour cream with feta, creating the closest approximation. Her resourcefulness reminded me of the universal struggle of migrants trying to recreate the tastes of home in foreign lands.
She had never been taught to cook, but through trial and error, she finally got the smell just right—bringing the memory of her mother’s kitchen to life. She found shortcuts, like using canned chickpeas instead of soaking them overnight, adding humor and practicality to the show. "They’ll never know the difference," she said with a wink.
Every ingredient in her dish had a story, and as she cooked, I felt her loneliness in London, missing home, yet resiliently finding her own version of it.
This play is a testament to survival, adaptation, and the comforting power of food, blending a heart-wrenching narrative with moments of humor and tenderness. "My English Persian Kitchen" is a unique and unforgettable experience that left me deeply moved and hungry for more.
