What to Eat in Iran (Historical/Pre-Islamic) Food

Iran’s pre-Islamic foodways grew from stark geographic contrasts: humid Caspian lowlands, snowy Zagros pastures, and the dry central plateau. Grains, pulses, dairy, and orchard fruits anchored daily meals, while fresh herbs added fragrance and medicinal balance. Trade routes delivered spices and ideas that cooks adapted to local climates.

Cooking emphasized hearth breads, slow pots, and seasonal preservation. Communal eating on a cloth sofreh and calendar rituals—especially Nowruz at spring’s return—governed when foods appeared, from sprouted-wheat sweets to robust winter stews that warmed highland villages.

Made from wheat flour, water, salt, and a natural sourdough starter, nan-e sangak is baked directly on a bed of hot river pebbles inside a deep, beehive oven. The stones dimple the crust while intense radiant heat yields a smoky, crisp underside and a chewy, springy crumb. Its lean dough reflects the wheat of Iran’s arid interior, where irrigation and qanats sustained cereal agriculture. Loaves are typically oblong or triangular, their pebbled surface ideal for catching herb leaves, yogurt, or meat juices.

Tradition ties the method to Sasanian-era field ovens that fed soldiers, a practice later described by medieval Persian writers who noted its distinctive pebble bake. Sangak remains a daily bread across the plateau and foothills, torn with sabzi khordan (fresh herbs) and panir, or used to scoop khoresh without utensils. You will most often encounter it warm in the morning and around midday when bakeries fire continuously, and queues form for long, blistered loaves still crackling from the stones.

Samanū (samanu) begins with whole wheat soaked, sprouted, and ground to release malt sugars. The malted extract is combined with flour, then slow-cooked for many hours in a large copper cauldron while being stirred constantly, concentrating into a glossy, caramel-brown paste without any added sugar. The flavor is deeply malty and nutty, with a gentle sweetness from natural maltose and a pudding-like, stretchy texture that clings to the spoon. A pinch of cardamom may appear in some regions, but the core preparation is grain and patience.

This dish is a centerpiece of Nowruz, the pre-Islamic spring festival, where it symbolizes renewal and abundance on the Haft-Sin table. In many towns, women historically gathered overnight to stir and sing while samanū thickened, a communal labor marking winter’s end. It is enjoyed warm or cooled in late winter and early spring, often with bread. Beyond Iran it appears across the Persianate world, but its strongest cultural resonance remains in households that prepare it for the new year’s first days.

Polow is the Persian technique of rendering rice into long, separate grains through soaking, parboiling, draining, and gentle steaming, often with saffron and oil or ghee. A prized tahdig—golden crust at the bottom—forms where starch meets fat and heat, giving a toasty crunch that contrasts with the fluffy interior. Early rice cultivation took hold in Iran’s humid Caspian lowlands; by late antiquity and the early Islamic centuries, Persian cooks had codified steam-finishing as a hallmark method. In courtly kitchens, rice might be perfumed with saffron from Khorasan or enriched with lamb stock.

The taste is aromatic and clean, with a delicate chew and unmistakable saffron notes when used, while tahdig adds caramelized depth. Polow anchors feasts and seasonal ceremonies, pairing with stews or grilled meats and appearing at weddings, harvest celebrations, and formal banquets. Midday meals remain the main setting for rice, especially in regions suited to rice culture, while drier provinces may reserve it for special occasions and rely more on breads.

Ash-e gandom is a thick, one-pot staple built from cracked wheat, chickpeas, and lentils simmered with onions and gentle spices such as turmeric. Toward the end, cooks add a sizzling drizzle of dried mint in oil (na’na dagh) for fragrance, and many finish with kashk—fermented whey long used by Iranian pastoralists—for tang and body. The result is spoon-standing and comforting, with grains and legumes soft but distinct, a hint of earthiness from the mint, and, if kashk is added, a lactic acidity that brightens the pot. It is usually served with flatbread and pickled vegetables.

The ash category predates Islam, with herb-and-grain soups sustaining rural households through cold seasons and highland travel. Ash-e gandom fits the agrarian calendar: legumes soaked overnight, the pot set early to simmer low and long, feeding family and neighbors at midday. It appears across the plateau and Zagros foothills in winter and at threshold moments like the end of harvest, reflecting a communal ethic that has long defined the Iranian table.

Fesenjan combines finely ground walnuts with pomegranate juice or molasses to create a rich, emulsified sauce, then simmers it slowly with poultry—duck along the Caspian, chicken elsewhere—or occasionally lamb. The walnuts release oils that thicken and gloss the sauce, while the pomegranate brings tartness balanced by natural sweetness, sometimes nudged by a touch of date syrup. The flavor is layered and complex: tangy, gently sweet, and deeply nutty, with a mahogany hue and a texture that coats rice. A trace of saffron or cinnamon may appear, but the core is the walnut-pomegranate pairing.

Both ingredients are ancient in Iran: walnuts thrive in the cool, humid highlands, and pomegranates have long carried ritual meaning in Iranian antiquity. While written recipes are recorded in later Persian cookery, the dish’s sweet-sour balance and reliance on orchard produce echo Sasanian-era tastes. Fesenjan is commonly prepared for autumn and winter gatherings and at festive tables, served with plain saffron polow or good bread to soak up the sauce.

From stone-baked breads and malted sweets to steam-fluffed rice and herb-thick soups, Iran’s cuisine reflects climates that range from Caspian humidity to high, dry plateaus. A persistent love of balance—sweet with sour, warm with cooling herbs—still shapes meals. Explore more food traditions and plan weather-smart trips using Sunheron’s filters and destination insights.