My maternal grandmother, Pouran Heydari, came from rural northern Iran. She was a determinedly strong and resourceful woman who sadly endured much trauma and tragedy in her life, often giving her a heavy air of sadness and melancholy that she carried with her everywhere. One of the things that did make her happy, though, was feeding her grandchildren, all of whom she treated with much love and affection. This was a meal she often cooked for us. It is called vaavishkaa