Book jacket courtesy of W.W. Norton & Company

When she won a James Beard award for her cookbook, Gran Cocina Latina, Maricel Presilla felt gratified to be acknowledged for the “work of a lifetime,” as well as for “the collective work of millions of Latin Americans, that live in two continents, in the Caribbean Islands, and also in the U.S.”

Presilla received the “Best Cookbook” honor at last Friday’s Book, Broadcast and Journalism awards. She is a chef, culinary historian and Miami Herald columnist. She also owns two restaurants, Zafra and Cucharamama, in Hoboken, New Jersey where she lives.

However, Presilla lived in Miami for many years and still considers it her home.  She graduated from Miami-Dade College and Florida International University.

The 900-page book is part cookbook and part culinary history. Throughout her travels in

Maricel Presilla is a chef, culinary historian and Miami Herald columnist. (W.W. Norton & Company)

countries like Peru, Ecuador, Mexico and Puerto Rico, Presilla spoke with countless abuelas and taxi drivers to find and hone recipes for tamales, empanadas, sauces and sancochos (stews). She feared that many of these recipes would be lost as older generations died.

Although she traveled endlessly for the book, she says she could not have written Gran Cocina Latina anywhere but in the United States:

“I tested every single recipe in the book with ingredients that I bought within walking distance from my home in New Jersey. I could not have written my book anywhere else but the U.S. because if I was in Argentina, I would never have been able to buy the chiles of Mexico. If I go to Mexico and try to test the recipes for the book and try to find Andean peppers–no I would never have been able to do it.”

Presilla says that as immigrants from various Latin American countries mingle in the U.S.–at work, at church, at school–they start to incorporate aspects of each other’s cooking without even realizing it: “For me, that is importance of Latin American cooking in the U.S. We are building a new Latin American type of cooking but without any borders.”

How to make tamales, as demonstrated in Gran Cocina Latina. (Reprinted from Gran Cocina Latina: The Food of Latin America by Maricel E. Presilla. Copyright © 2012 by Maricel E. Presilla. With the permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc)

Presilla likened her book to the monarch butterfly, which has been used as a metaphor for immigration reform. She loved the metaphor of large groups of monarch butterflies making the round trip between Mexico and the United States as part of their annual migration:

“I realize that–in a way–my book is a monarch because it’s building bridges through the pleasure of cooking. I believe the movement of people across borders is right. That’ s how cultures are enriched and this migration is something that has been with humanity since the dawn of ages.”

Presilla won the 2012 James Beard Award for “Best Chef: Mid-Atlantic.”

Kris Wessel smoked and braised python for Fertile Earth Foundation's Underground Miami event. (David Samayoa)

Just what does python taste like? The braised python-and-Brazilian-pepper fritter  I sampled was reminiscent of eggplant tempura in taste and texture–with maybe a hint of turnip. Kris Wessel, executive chef at Florida Cookery, had prepared this innocuous looking fritter (in contrast to the scary-looking whole creature) for the Fertile Earth Foundation’s Underground Miami event.

As I was preparing to head over to the Fertile Earth Foundation’s Underground Miami fund-raising event last week, I read about some of the invasive species that would be offered on the menu. Some of the information was less than appetizing: Python rife with mercury? What was this “brucellosis” found in pigs?

Amber Antonelli of The Naked Bite prepared oyster mushroom species with peppercorns from the invasive Brazilian pepper plant. (David Samayoa)

Granted, these foods are more of a niche interest among adventurous foodies than a widespread trend. However, in the past few years, there has been more conversation about building markets and appetites around invasive species like carp and lionfish to help curb their relentless population growth.

Jackson Landers collected his accounts of hunting and eating invasive species like nutria, Asian carp and iguana. (Courtesy of Storey Publishing)

Jackson Landers, also known as “The Locavore Hunter,” is the author of the book Eating Aliens: One Man’s Adventures Hunting Invasive Animal Species: “I don’t claim that eating invasives is a one-spot-solution. Creating a market can be part of the solution. I would say one of the biggest things we can do is stop studying the problem and start solving it, which sounds trite.” But that’s what Landers did: he learned to hunt and eat invasive creatures like iguanas and carp.

Landers feels that people should take great care with the how they prepare the invasive critters they hunt, but that when it comes to certain animals like wild boar and Muscovy duck, he takes this perspective:

“It’s no different than domestic livestock—maybe less so than what I’ve seen. Animals packed in like sardines in a factory farm have much more potential for transmission of disease. Individual slaughter in the wild is also safer, as opposed to a slaughter house where ground meat is produced.”

However,  there are different risks to eating various invasive species. As part of a series on invasive species, WLRN Miami Herald News is posting culinary suggestions for dealing with animals like the giant African land snail. Throughout the next two weeks, I’ll be posting on the risks (if any) of eating certain species, and how they can be dealt with:

Giant African Land Snails: Are They Worth Eating?

The Freshest Margarita at Mixologia Milagro Tequila event

A couple of months ago, I attended a Mixologia media dinner at Paradise Farms hosted by Milagro Tequila. We toured the farm at sunset, guided by owner and farmer Gabrielle Marewski.

After that, we made our own margaritas, guided by Milagro tequila ambassador, Jaime Salas. The surrounding farm provided many of the cocktail ingredients.

Milagro tequila ambassador, Jaime Salas, instructs members of the media on making tequila cocktails. The class was a little unruly by the end of dinner. (Photo by Jipsy Castillo)

We started with The Freshest Margarita. The recipe is deceptively simple. As is the case with many classic cocktails, when made with quality, fresh ingredients, the finished whole alchemizes into something surprisingly more complex in flavor. “The simpler your margarita recipe the more the nuances of the tequila can shine through,” says Salas. Fresh lime juice makes a big difference, too.

The Freshest Margarita
Recipe by Jaime Salas

Serves 1

INGREDIENTS

2 parts Milagro Tequila
1 part fresh lime juice
¾ part agave nectar
Ice
Salt (optional)
Garnish: lime wheel

Combine ingredients with ice and shake. Strain over fresh ice in a rocks glass and garnish with a lime wheel. Salt is optional.

Watermelon radish (Photo by Jipsy Castillo)

My favorite cocktail was the one I am calling the Paradise Farms Margarita. The drink greets you with the aroma of  lime and cilantro. The cilantro and watermelon radish add a lovely herbal note to the tequila drink. The tie-dyed-pink radish isn’t as spicy as some other radishes and it makes a striking garnish. If you can’t find watermelon radish at your farmers’ market, you can substitute the more traditional variety, although they will imbue your cocktail considerable more potent “radish-y” spice and flavor.

 Paradise Farms Margarita
Recipe by Jaime Salas

Serves 1

INGREDIENTS

2 parts Milagro Silver Tequila
1 part fresh lime juice
3/4 parts local honey (1:1) or light agave nectar
1 hearty pinch of cilantro
3 watermelon radish rounds
Ice
Extra watermelon radish round for garnish

Muddle the cilantro and 3 rounds of radish in a rocks glass. Then, combine the tequila, lime juice and honey with ice in a shaker. After shaking, strain and pour into glass with the cilantro and radish. Strain all of these together into a new rocks glass with fresh ice. Garnish with a watermelon radish slice.

Dewey LoSasso, executive chef at The Forge, created a dinner to pair with our tequila cocktails, including this carambola cake for dessert. (Photo by Jipsy Castillo)

Read W.B. Yeats while having a brewski at World of Beer. (Photo by Paul Christiansen)

This weekend, you might notice that the humble coaster beneath your drink has a surprising message. Unlike the fool sitting next to you at the bar, the verses on your coaster are lucid, articulate and wise.

Paul Christiansen, a poet and graduate student at Florida International University, spearheaded the poetry coaster project. It’s part of O, Miami, a month-long poetry festival with the goal of exposing everyone in Miami-Dade to a poem in April.

Fifteen thousand coasters have been placed at South Florida bars, restaurants and snack counters, including Lester’s, Broken Shaker at Freehand Miami, Flanigan’s North Miami, Buena Vista Deli, Gramps, The Tipsy Boar and Billy’s Pub Too.

Connecting poetry and spirits doesn’t seem like much of a stretch considering the fondness of many writers across time for “spiritual” inspiration, whether that inspiration came in the form of absinthe, whiskey or rum.

So while you’re pondering life at the bar this weekend, order up a libation and consider the wistful words of W.B. Yeats. Now there’s a drinking buddy:

A Drinking Song

"Thicket" by Terrance Hayes is on this coaster at American Legion Post 67. (Photo by Paul Christiansen)

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

Whether you’re ignoring the overzealous suitor next to you or trying to make conversation with a new friend, a poet like A.E. Stallings can be your companion at the bar. Let poetry be your wing man.

Two More Cocktail + Poetry Events

Friday, April 26th: Kevin Young read poems of food and drink at The Broken Shaker. Tom Healy and Kevin Riley read from Animal Spirits, a book about tattoos and poetry. There will also be a pop-up tattoo parlor.

Saturday, April 27th: WLRN-Miami Herald News hosts a reading of poetry from the That’s So Miami project at B Bar at The Betsy. Winners of the That’s So Miami contest will also be announced.

Photo by Michael Alonso/Nazreth, stock.xchang

As today is Earth Day, a few Miami chefs chimed in on how they try to reduce waste or recycle at their restaurants.

Jen Chaefsky, owner and general manager of Macchialina:

“Our water glasses are made out of recycled wine bottles. It’s something small, but every little bit helps; plus it’s a cool element that guests love to learn about.”

Sam Gorenstein, chef and owner of  My Ceviche:

“So much of our business is to-go or delivery that it became super important that we incorporate greener disposable containers. We also embrace sustainable fishing practices, especially with stone crabs which actually regenerate their claws.”

Sean Brasel, chef and owner of Meat Market on Miami Beach:

“We’re installing an Eco-safe Organic Waste Decomposition System in the restaurant.  We use paper products rather than plastic, and all takeaway containers are recycled and biodegradable.”

Chef Allen, consulting chef and owner of Daily Melt:

“Our funky red chairs at the Daily Melt are made out of recycled Coca-Cola bottles.”

Chef Allen Susser told us the red chairs at The Daily Melt are made of recycled Coca-Cola bottles. (Rod Deal Photography)

Andreas Schreiner, owner of Pubbelly Restaurants:

“We use the Vero water filtration system instead of buying bottled water to reduce waste.”

Giorgio Rapicavoli, chef and owner of Eating House:

“We use Vero filtered water, recycle old menus as coasters and are building our own kick-ass garden. We also partnered with All ‘Bout Trees for our uniforms – they make clothing from eco-friendly organic cotton and they support the Fruit Tree Planting Foundation who plants trees that feed the poor.”

More local restaurants seem to be serving filtered water, using systems like Vero, as a more sustainable alternative to bottled water.  Some restaurants pass on a surcharge for this water (generally a $1 per diner); others offer it for free (or at least pass on the cost in some other way).

Around the time this trend was taking off around the country, San Francisco writers Michael Bauer and W. Blake Gray wondered about passing on the cost to diners–was it a legitimate environmental move, a new way for restaurants to make money in a tough economy, or both? More on this later.

The Miami Dish version of soupe joumou, made from Ellen Kanner's recipe (Trina Sargalski)

Excerpt and recipe from the book Feeding the Hungry Ghost. Copyright © 2013 by Ellen Kanner. Reprinted with permission from New World Library. 

We all love to ring in the new year with its promise of new beginnings, but in Haiti, it’s especially cause for joy. New Year’s Day is Independence Day, the celebration of that New Year’s Day in 1804 when Haitians ended over a century of bloody rule by the French and were no longer colonial slaves but a free people in their own country.

Haitians celebrated by eating what had been forbidden them — meat, cabbage, and squash, the latter two grown on their own island. Haitian slaves had grown and cooked these foods for their French masters, while they themselves had survived solely on rations of salt cod and lemonade.

Soupe joumou sustains and is sustainable. It’s made from what is local and available. The Haitians adapted the soup from their French masters, heating it up with habaneros and ginger and making it their own. Some eat it on New Year’s Day for good luck. Others, like Marcel, eat and serve it knowing its history [read more about Kanner's friend, Marcel]. It is his connection to place and to people, his source of sanity and serenity.

As with all things Haitian, there is some myth involved. The soup is said to honor Papa Loko, the vodou god of the ancient African spirit. Yellow is his favorite color, the one that summons him. Soupe joumou summons everyone. It’s belly filling and soul lifting all at once. It epitomizes for me the people of Haiti, who take what little they have, make it delicious, and offer it to you with all their heart.

New World Library

“I think feeding the deeper hunger and serving the world starts with what you serve for dinner,” says writer Ellen Kanner. She admits “that’s asking a lot of dinner.”  Feeding the deeper hunger is the unifying theme of her new memoir and cookbook, Feeding the Hungry Ghost: Life, Faith and What to Eat for Dinner.

Kanner is The Huffington Post’s “Meatless Monday” blogger and the syndicated “Edgy Veggie” columnist. She’ll read from Feeding the Hungry Ghost on Thursday, Apr. 18th, at History Miami. Wine and light bites inspired by the book will also be served.

Below is an excerpt from Feeding the Hungry Ghost. 

THE SEED

Abridged excerpt from the book Feeding the Hungry Ghost: Life, Faith and What to Eat for Dinner. Copyright © 2013 by Ellen Kanner. Reprinted with permission from New World Library. 

Ellen Kanner grew up in Miami. Many of the seasonal recipes in her book are based on South Florida's farming calendar. (Courtesy: Image 1st)

We are four months into the new year, at the point where the rubber hits the road. We made incredible resolutions when the year was shiny and new. Everything that seemed possible now seems as tired and stale as the juice fast we tried and gave up on after three miserable days. Not only have most of us not shed pounds and added tone, we have the added weight of guilt and remorse. 

And yet guilt and remorse sell. We’re attacked by ads shaming and shouting at us to lose weight, join a gym, get six-pack abs. I’ve got nothing against a six-pack, but I hate all those “new you” things because I’m not so bad and you’re lovely the way you are.  And I hate cleansing diets, especially those sold in kits comprising little more than a bottle and a powdered, unpalatable mix of mystery ingredients.

I have made absurd, unattainable new year’s resolutions. And they only wind up frustrating me and making me feel like a loser. So for quite a few years now, I’ve resolved to embrace chaos. Because it’s coming at us whether we like it or not. I’m still not great at it but have grown more comfortable with the concept; there are things in the world beyond my personal control — oil spills, war, hunger, illness, stuff like that. I hate that I can’t fix these things, but I am learning to be — oh, who am I kidding? I’ll always worry. I don’t like to worry, but I’m good at it. However, because I’m learning to embrace chaos, I’m okay with my own worry. I can even let some of it go. A little. Then I worry some more.

I envy people who take comfort in faith — the defined, institutional kind — that God will provide, or if something really wretched happens, it’s okay because it’s God’s will, or — inshallah — that it will happen as Allah wishes. These are especially the times I’d like to ask God, Allah, or whoever’s in charge, just what the hell he’s after.

I’m not entirely sure I believe in God. I understand he/she believes in me, which I find most cheering. I think if there is a God, it’s big hearted despite our quirks and craziness, able to focus on the big picture, see what we’re doing and basically shrug and say, “Oy, what can you do?” I was raised Jewish, but Reform. Really Reform. My husband, Benjamin, thinks my family’s so Reform, we deserve another category — Mellow. Benjamin was raised Lutheran, and in his childhood did refined things I associate with WASP-dom. He attended cotillion. His family ate Jell-O salads. They belonged to a yacht club.

But in both his case and mine, the formal religion part just didn’t take. What resonates with Benjamin about Judaism is latkes. At every Jewish holiday, he asks, “Is this the potato pancake one?” What resonates with me is the more secular part of Judaism, the concept of tikkun olam, healing the world, the social responsibility part.

Lettuce sprouting

For a long time, I thought the only way I could serve humanity is by running off and joining Doctors without Borders. Just how I, with no formal medical training, was going to help them was a little hazy.

So I started doing small, specific things that didn’t require a visa or medical degree. I joined a massive volunteer effort to help kids plant an organic garden in their public school.  We dug up the patchy sod — hard, hot, hand-blistering work. We planted the seeds. We grew fat, red tomatoes, glossy eggplant, and a tangle of greens including callaloo, a green gift from the Caribbean. I showed kids how to cook it. I watched them eat it — a vegetable!

Tomatoes from Bee Heaven Farm

The kids liked it, not because it was good for them, but because they made it happen, from planting the seed to harvesting it and braising it with chili and garlic.

Hanging out at the farmers’ markets, working with some amazing chefs and organizations and initiatives that bring what our farmers grow to the people who need to eat it — this is my idea of a good time. I can’t promise it brings me to salvation. But it helps bring me back to myself, plus I get to write about it and turn readers on to a good thing or two.

That’s how I met my friend Marcel, genius of soup, specifically soupe joumou, the beloved soup with which Haitians start the new year. It’s not enough for Marcel to make it; he has to feed everyone he knows. So he makes a vat of it on a hot plate in his studio and serves it up all day. Even in dark times.

The 2010 earthquake devastated his homeland. He lost his auntie, uncle, and cousins, all with a shake of the earth. This is when the fetal position comes in handy. Instead, Marcel wanted to make soup. He needed to make soup. When I arrived, his place was flooded with afternoon light and was so jammed, I couldn’t see the host for all the guests clustered around him, cradling soup bowls, talking, eating, laughing.

Finally, I found Marcel in his makeshift kitchen, holding court and presiding over the soup pot.

I gave him a kiss and picked up a bowl.

“It has meat,” he warned, remembering I’m a meat-free kind of girl.

“I’ll eat around it.”

We looked at each other. He beamed and ladled it, rich and golden, like liquid sunshine, from a battered aluminum pot.

Soupe joumou is the triumph of spirit over tyranny, heart over privation, and a damn fine way to warm body and soul. This is a soup tapping into the collective unconscious of a people, evoking stronger feelings than Proust’s madeleine. I wasn’t going to let some bits of beef get in the way of that.

Soupe joumou cooked from recipe in Feeding the Hungry Ghost (Trina Sargalski)

We all love to ring in the new year with its promise of new beginnings, but in Haiti, it’s especially cause for joy. New Year’s Day is Independence Day, the celebration of that New Year’s Day in 1804 when Haitians ended over a century of bloody rule by the French and were no longer colonial slaves but a free people in their own country.

Haitians celebrated by eating what had been forbidden them — meat, cabbage, and squash, the latter two grown on their own island. Haitian slaves had grown and cooked these foods for their French masters, while they themselves had survived solely on rations of salt cod and lemonade.

Soupe joumou sustains and is sustainable. It’s made from what is local and available. The Haitians adapted the soup from their French masters, heating it up with habaneros and ginger and making it their own. Some eat it on New Year’s Day for good luck. Others, like Marcel, eat and serve it knowing its history. It is his connection to place and to people, his source of sanity and serenity.

It isn’t that life hasn’t lobbed a lot of crap Marcel’s way or that he’s weatherproofed against it. No one is. It’s how we bear up that matters. And Marcel, on the anniversary of losing home and family, somehow managed with grace and made soup. That’s enough of a superpower for me.

RELATED

Make Ellen Kanner’s recipe for Haitian soupe joumou

Who’s growing cocktails in their gardens? In a manner of speaking, Blackbird Ordinary and Broken Shaker are. The two Miami-Dade bars are growing plants to make simple syrups, infusions and garnishes. You can also grow your own “cocktail garden.” Amy Stewart, author of The Drunken Botanist, visits Books & Books tonight (April 12th), and she’ll be giving gardeners growing tips.

Blackbird Ordinary, a Brickell bar, had a vertical garden installed about four months ago.  The edible wall can grow mint, cilantro, basil, strawberries and miracle fruit among other things. Lemongrass, citrus trees and sorrel (hibiscus) will grow in planters seasonally. “This unique design allows herbs to be changed in and out seasonally,” says marketing director Jessie Gilmartin, “so fresh-grown ingredients for the bar are always available.”

The Oaxacan Palate punch, served by Broken Shaker during South Beach Wine & Food Festival, was made with mezcal, smoked ancho chilis, blood oranges and herbs.

At Broken Shaker in Miami Beach, bartenders use herbs like lavender, basil, sage, chocolate mint and edible flowers for infusions, bitters, simple syrups and garnishes. For example, the Lavender Bees Knees is made with gin, Florida citrus and lavender simple syrup.

The planters at Broken Shaker aren't just for decoration. (David Samayoa)

Of course, you can grow herbs and other plants for cocktails at home too. Author Amy Stewart’s newest book, The Drunken Botanist, is about all of the fruits, herbs, fungi and other plants that have been used to make alcohol throughout the ages. Stewart also has an interest in the horticulture of plants used to make cocktails.

Stewart has partnered with a seed company to sell cocktail garden kits, including a Havana Rum Garden kit, which includes seeds for making your own creative rum libation like a lemongrass mojito.  Of course, you can just purchase and plant your own seeds in whatever combinations you like. South Florida is in a completely different gardening zone than most of the country, but Stewart’s seeds and gardening tips can offer inspiration.

Even if growing your own cocktail garden is beyond your ability or interest, Stewart offers many tips for using herbs and plants to make your own cocktail ingredients at home, like bitters and shrubs (drinking vinegars).

This cocktail tree in a Pembroke Pines yard grows key limes and Meyer lemons. (Denise Diaz)

If you’re feeling particularly ambitious you can graft your own cocktail tree. Or you can order one online, get it at a local nursery or ask a gardener to graft one for you. It may not be the easiest tree to grow, but apparently such trees can produce limes and lemons and other citrus on the same tree for multiple cocktail ingredients.

Gardens are for cocktails, too.

Photo by Nancy Ancrum

by Nancy Ancrum

Les Dames d’Escoffier Miami hosts its fifth annual Tropical Brunch in the cool, green lushness of the Miami Beach Botanical Garden. Les Dames is a service organization whose talented culinary-industry members are dedicated to “improving nutrition, education and the quality of life in our community.”

By coming out to enjoy the signature dishes created by Bianca at the Delano, The Front Porch Café, Hakkasan at the Fountainebleau Miami Beach, The Oceanaire Seafood Room, Serafina Dream South Beach, Smith & Wollensky and Sweet Art by Lucila, among others, you’ll help fund local scholarship and educational programs.

Brunch is just the start: Have an eye-opener from the Bloody Mary bar. Bid on spa treatments, gift baskets and other luxe goods in the silent auction. Learn something new at Dames’ cooking demonstrations. Snag a copy of Dame Ellen Kanner’s Feeding the Hungry Ghost–she’ll be there to sign it!

Come casual and leave relaxed and sated. It promises to be a delicious afternoon.

When: Sunday, April 14, 11 a.m. to 2 p.m.
Where: Miami Beach Botanical Garden, 2000 Convention Center Dr., Miami Beach
How much: Adults $50 in advance; $55 at the door; Children 5-12 $20 in advance; $25 at the door (4 and under free)
How to get tickets: Call 877 467-7725, email reservations@lesdamesmiami.org or pay online via PayPal

Salad shirazi or tomato, cucumber, parsley and lemon juice salad at February's Saffron Supper Club

Instead of lamenting the lack of Persian restaurants in Miami, writer Sara Liss and Maude Eaton, a food and beverage consultant and co-founder of South Florida Foodies, decided to explore Persian culture and cuisine by cooking some up for themselves.   

Last month, Josh’s Deli in Surfside was transformed into the Saffron Supper Club. The lights were turned down; the duck prosciutto and smoked salmon were tucked away. Candles covered the long diner counter and an infatuating aroma of nutty rice tahdig greeted dinners.

This was the second installment of a dinner series hosted by Liss and Eaton; the first was at Miami Beach Botanical Garden with chef Michael Shikany. Diners purchased tickets online and for $60, they experienced an evening of Persian music, food and literature. Between courses, Liss and Eaton explained the dishes and their ingredients.

Rice steams in the pot.

“Tahdig”, Eaton told diners, “is a true art form. It is served for special guests in Iran and is a true measure of a cook’s skill.” The bottom layer of the basmati rice dish is pressed down as it steams, so  it develops a golden brown crust around the edges of the pot. 

The rice at Saffron Supper Club was fluffy, but the clusters of golden, crispy rice were the best part, like the satisfying crust that hardens around the edges of the stone bowl in Korean bibimbap.

Tahdig or golden-crusted rice

Eaton was previously married to a Persian man, and so her children are half-Persian. “The culture is rich with the essence of community, sharing and, of course, entertaining,” she says, “The Persians are royals when it comes to entertaining guests. I learned this as a young wife and hostess and the joy of cooking and inviting friends to my table never left me.”

Other dishes served included a blini appetizer (topped with sheaves of salmon pastrami from Josh’s Deli, along with cream and pomegranate seeds), dill rice with fava beans and lamb, and koresht-e fsenjan, or braised chicken in a slightly tangy walnut and pomegranate molasses sauce. Catherine Hinds, the pastry chef at Josh’s Deli, made Persian chiffon cake (also known as Persian love cake)  with candied rose petals, pistachios and saffron ice cream.  

Persian chiffon cake (or Persian love cake) with pistachios, rose petals and saffron ice cream

Except for dessert, Eaton and Liss did most of the shopping and cooking for the meal, which took them about two days. Eaton says, “There’s not too much frying or sautéeing, as the food is all  mostly braised or grilled. So in the time it takes to braise a perfect stew, the cook can make all the delicious sides. ”

In between courses at Saffron Supper Club, Liss might recite a poem in Farsi or read a passage from The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights. “For us,” she says, “it’s not just about the food but about creating an experience through the food. Sharing these stories –which are often very strange and a little unexpected–are things I would do if I were hosting a dinner at my home.”

Liss, who is the editor of Urban Daddy Miami, grew up speaking Farsi and eating many of the dishes she’s helped cook for Saffron Supper Club: “I consider myself Persian. My mother is from Iran–we are Jewish–and most of her family managed to relocate to the States in the late 1970′s. In a way, I am educating myself about the food and traditions that I took for granted growing up. I felt an instant connection with Maude and her enthusiasm for the cooking so, after talking about it, we decided to just go for it.”

Since they like to shift locations, Eaton and Liss are considering other spots in town like a rooftop in the Design District or a backyard barbecue at a boutique hotel in South Beach for future events. The “two girls in love with food and culture and especially the foods of the Middle East” plan to expand the menu to other countries in the Middle East too.  They would also like to invite chefs and bartenders to help craft new meals.

Keep an eye on their Facebook page, Saffron Supper Club, for updates on future events. Hopefully these will also include the bewitching tahdig.