Green Almonds and Sour Plums

About once a month we head out to explore some of the many ethnic grocery stores that are north of our house. These expeditions are always fun, and sometimes they yield a real gem -  a food, a place, or a shopkeeper we visit again and again.

This weekend we hit our favorite Persian market for the owner's vibrant green sauce (that's what he calls it) to use on roasted chicken. From what we can guess, it's parsley, mint, lemon, oil and more garlic than we care to know (we smell for days after eating it), but it's absolutely magic on food. The raw garlic gives it heat, the mint a sweetness, parsley rounds it out - words just aren't enough. I don't really have any desire to recreate it because then it would take away the reason for going up there, and I always enjoy the trip.

On our way into the store this time, we noticed fuzzy almonds and bright green plums in the fresh area. I watched other shoppers fill their bags with these, but not knowing how to use them, I shied away. Until, of course, we got to the counter. The owner of the store, the magician behind the green sauce, always plies us with samples and answers all of our questions with patience and generosity. I had to know more about the almonds.

He smiled and said they were a delicacy this time of year, and he has them shipped up from California where they're grown. 'But how do you eat them?' I begged. Rinse them, cover them in ice water, and then when you're ready for a snack, dip the tip in salt and take a bite. 'It's best with beer,' he said. And the plums? Same thing, though they will be considerably more tart.

We were hooked. Despite his offer that we grab a handful of each on our way out, I was already looking forward to an evening of fresh Persian bar snacks and beer. I bought about a quarter pound apiece and brought them home. Perhaps that was a little ambitious.

With great anticipation, we filled our glasses and grabbed the salt. Todd took the first bite of a pale, fuzzy almond. We weren't sure what to expect, but a gelatinous center was the last thing we expected. Eyebrows raised, he continued, discarding only the stem end. 'Sort of green and raw tasting,' he said. Yup. With the fuzz, it tasted like a raw green bean. The jelly didn't have a flavor that we could discern.

I took a hearty bite of a tiny green plum. Its texture was unmistakable - raw, unripe tomato. Crunchy like an apple, but not juicy. Tart too. Its stone was the size of an olive pit. Not bad, certainly refreshing. But like the almonds, a little different.

After a few more, the bowl looked a lot bigger and a lot more full than we thought it would. I pushed the rest aside and gulped down the dregs of my beer, and Todd announced 'pickles!' Yes, that's what's in store for these little Persian delicacies. A bath of brine, lemon and peppers, and then we'll see.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

• Add new comment
• Printer-friendly version