The romance and rebellion of an Iranian picnic

Iranians adore a picnic. During the country’s most ancient festival, Nowruz, the Persian new year, they brandish baskets of food as they swarm into parks and gardens to celebrate Sizdah-bedar, the 13th and final day of the Nowruz celebrations and the coming of spring. In Britain, it’s only just getting warm enough to enjoy a khoresht stew or doogh, a yoghurt drink that tastes a little like Indian lassi. But venture out to Hyde Park and you’ll see groups of young and old Iranians sitting in the pale springtime sun.

The Persian picnic is generally a family affair. Pretty much every Iranian has fond memories of Nowruz meals; eating fragrant rice and meats with kindly aunts. These picnics are best enjoyed in one of Iran’s ancient Persian gardens (Bagh-e Irani), which first emerged during the Achaemenid Empire of Cyrus the Great. Even ignoring the mullahs’ absurd ban on alcohol, Iran is a dry country. There’s not a lot of water, so the Iranian idea of paradise is a verdant one. Lush green with plenty of water and its ornamental offspring: flowers. Images of gardens spread throughout Persian art and have remained lodged in our collective minds ever since Cyrus launched his empire in 550 bc.

The effect on Persian society has been huge. ‘Iranians are always prepared for a picnic,’ says Roham Alvandi, a historian of Iran at the London School of Economics. ‘On pretty much every road trip I’ve ever taken, a picnic seems to materialise on the way. I’ve been at airport gates waiting for a flight either to or from Iran and have seen an Iranian family suddenly produce a picnic with condiments and all the cutlery. Picnics are something really established in the culture, centred strongly around the family.’