Whereas kebabs are Afghan street
food, Parwana’s menu represents food
that might be cooked in the home. But
that’s not to suggest it’s everyday
cuisine. Rather, it’s the kind of food
you might cook for a special occasion:
celebration food. It’s also an attempt
at preservation. No recipes are written
down, but Farida has taught Fatema how
to make everything she learned to cook as
a young woman in Kabul; Fatema in turn
is teaching her own daughter, Zainab.
The younger Ayubi is 20 years old and
has lived in Adelaide all her life. She’s a
registered midwife and a personal trainer,
and helps out at Parwana and Shirni
Parwana, where she specialises in creating
magnificent grazing tables. She’s visited
Afghanistan once, when she was seven,
and remembers being taken aback by
the country’s beauty.
“The grass was so green,
the sky was so blue, there
were snow-capped
mountains, sparkly rivers,
and all these houses with
colourful doors,” says
Zainab. “It was stunning.
I never realised there
was a side of Afghanistan
that looked like that.”
Nor do most people,
which is perhaps
understandable given that the only media
coverage the country gets is in relation to
its volatile politics and near-perpetual civil
war. Part of Parwana’s mission is to
preserve the happiness and hospitality
that Farida and her family knew in Kabul.
“Our ethos is to treat each customer
like they’re a guest in our home,” says
Fatema. “We want them to experience
Afghan hospitality and Afghan cuisine.
My parents started Parwana because they
wanted to share the beauty of our culture
with other people — to show the side of
Afghan culture that we know.”●We find it hard to change the menu
because people are very attached to it.”
No dish better typifies this
attachment than the banjaan borani,
which Farida describes as “an eggplant
dish made with tomato sauce and
spices, with garlic yoghurt on top”.
This account is technically correct.
It also completely fails to capture how
extraordinary the banjaan borani
really is. Soft flanks of eggplant arrive
swaddled in thick tomato sauce, and
a swirl of yoghurt cuts through the
oily redness. Flavoured with garlic
and mint, and rounded off with
smoky paprika, the dish
is unctuous, zingy and
addictive. Its fame is
such that Farida couldn’t
take it off the menu even
if she wanted to. “I think
it’s really nice,” is her
understated assessment.
“People love it – they
really love that dish.”
Farida’s use of
traditional Afghan spices
- cardamom, cumin,
turmeric, cloves – animates some of
her most memorable dishes. The
Kabuli palaw is redolent with cardamom
and crowned with a heap of caramelised
carrot. Each grain of rice is chewy and
distinct. A red lentil dhal comes spiked
with chilli and topped with wisps of
fresh coriander, the pulses simmered
into collapsing submission.
Although accompaniments are,
by definition, optional extras, the
sides at Parwana deserve to be ordered
enthusiastically. The pickled vegetables,
called torshi, are vinegary and crisp, while
the fluffy naan bread lends itself perfectly
to mopping up the last green flecks of
spinach sabzi or the chunky dregs of
a qormeh gosfand curry.
Many people
think Afghan
food starts
and ends with
meat on a
stick. Parwana
demonstrates
otherwise.GOURMET TRAVELLER 81