"At Sofreh, an order comes with two versions. For one, the bottom of the pot is lined with thin pita, which gets drizzled in oil; the rice goes on top and sinks into the bread as it cooks, and the finished crust is sliced into glistening, golden-brown wedges. For the other, rice and pot are separated only by oil, and the end result is broken into crunchy clumps. Noticing my group’s fallen faces, Alikhani winced sympathetically and searched for tahdig among the dishes that she was about to enjoy herself, at the next table. There was none. But just when we had consoled ourselves with a heaping bowl of herb rice—with an herb-to-rice ratio of roughly 1:1—a small plate appeared: a tahdig miracle." - Hannah Goldfield
Photograph by William Mebane for The New Yorker