By Sarah Nikdel1
I’d been living in New York City for over twelve years, and in all that time, my dad had only visited once, back in 2011. His preference for peaceful, warm, and natural environments was a significant deterrent, and we spent most of our time together back home in central Florida.
He grew up in a small mountain village in northern Iran where his family kept donkeys, goats, and sheep—animals he helped care for. He was an actual shepherd in his youth, occasionally taking what I like to call “Little Boy Blue” naps in the fields. When I’d ask about his favorite foods from childhood, his answer was always simple: fresh bread, goat cheese, and milk. The closest reference my kid brain could make was what I read in Heidi.
At 30, after pursuing his education in Tehran, he emigrated to the United States to pursue a master’s in chemistry at UMass Amherst. Opposites really do attract, because that’s where he met my mom, a printmaking and art major. He lovingly (and repeatedly) refers to them as “the artist and the fartist,” always delivered through his wide, open-mouthed laugh (which an ex of mine astutely pointed out I’ve inherited). Let it be known: my mom, in stark contrast, loves the city and visits as often as she can. She took me on countless trips to New York when I was growing up, which is likely why I felt so comfortable moving here.
My dad, though, has always preferred the calm and predictability of routine. But in 2019, just two blocks from home, he got into a life-threatening car accident that left him in the ICU for over a month. At 77, his slow yet determined recovery was impressive. He emerged healthier and stronger in his 80s than he’d been in years—and, emotionally, a bit softer too. Words of affection came more easily and more frequently. He even shared that I appeared to him in his sedated, intubated dreams as an angel?! A new phase of (somewhat) improved family communication was unlocked. Where had this version of my dad been all of our lives?
It felt like a miracle—and a sign that it might finally be time for another visit and to show him my slightly quieter corner of Brooklyn. By the summer of 2024, after things calmed down with COVID, I decided he was more than capable of making the trip. With his Iranian roots, I knew there was only one way to lure him: the promise of Persian food. More specifically, his favorite—lamb. My family has a few strong food loyalties that motivate us: on my mom’s New Englander side, it’s corn; on my dad’s, it’s the lamb (I’m not proud, but it beckons us nonetheless).
I started planting the seeds. I delivered long-winded descriptions of the “no probLAMBa” sandwich special at Court Street Grocers, unlike anything I'd ever tasted and something he’d never experience…unless he visited. I raved about the delicate lamb stuffed cabbage at Agi's Counter that essentially melted in my mouth, but not in his…unless he visited. I also boasted about the city's unmatched access to Middle Eastern and Persian food. Orlando and Tampa—not even close!
The plan worked like a charm. A trip was booked for Father’s Day weekend. I set alarms for reservations and crafted an itinerary tailored to what would make him happiest in the city. No Broadway shows. No museums. No Statue of Liberty or crowded tourist hotspots. He prefers slow, meandering strolls outdoors (at a pace so unique it's almost performance art—we've all tried matching it, and he still trails behind us), exploring where I live, and, most importantly, eating well.
We took to the town and ate our way through some of my favorite Middle Eastern and Mediterranean spots, including Celestine and Cafe Mogador. But the Persian pièce de résistance was the one we were all waiting for. I'd been to Eyval in Bushwick a few times and was always blown away, but that visit with my parents was truly one for the books. Dish after dish arrived, and with each bite, the joy on my dad’s face grew. A family that could barely remember to take a single photo suddenly became the paparazzi. Cocktail pics: check. Appetizer pics: check. Extremely-happy-dad-smiling-and-posing-with-his-lamb-kabob pic? Check, please!
I could tell the familiar flavors captured a bittersweet nostalgia for Iran he doesn’t often allow himself to access. Since I may never get to visit his homeland, sharing even a small taste of it together in my corner of Brooklyn felt quietly profound. After this visit, I think he not only better understands my decision to make a home here, but would gladly return for seconds!
Name drops: Eyval, Court Street Grocers, Agi’s Counter
A special thank you to this week’s illustrator Claudi Kessels2. See more of her work here.
Sarah Nikdel is a Brooklyn-based art director and designer specializing in fashion, cannabis, skincare, and travel. She is an aspiring weaver, and sandwiches are her favorite food group.
Claudi Kessels is an Amsterdam-based illustrator. After years of teaching, she went to art school and has been an illustrator ever since. Her work has appeared in magazines like Flow, Plansponsor, and Middlebury Magazine, and she collaborates with various lifestyle and fashion brands. When she’s not drawing, she’s running or losing card games to her kids.