But one bite–and Nan-e Berenji melts into a mouthful of buttery rice and cardamom. The cookie is extremely crumbly when hot, but as it cools, it becomes less fragile. The dough is soft, but it holds the pattern well, and you can use a cookie stamp or score it with a fork. My cookies tasted so close to the Yazdi version that when I gave a box to my Persian language teacher, she assumed I brought them from Iran. Just like Nan-e Berenji from Yazd, Ghanoonparvar’s cookies are made mostly with rice flour, butter, and sugar. With a box of Yazdi cookies as my benchmark (photo above), I tried a few versions, but I struck gold with a recipe from M.R. There are numerous recipes and techniques–with sugar syrup or fine sugar, with rosewater or without, with butter or oil. When I returned home, I set out to recreate Nan-e Berenji. Yazdi rice cookies were the same golden color as the adobe walls of the ancient town, and a simple shape belied their decadent flavor. Throughout my trip, I looked for this simple confection in every town I visited, but none have rivaled the version I found in Yazd, a city famous for sweets. Nan-e Berenji has a delicate sablé-like texture and a rich perfume of cardamom. That’s how I discovered rice cookies, Nan-e Berenji, the classical Iranian pastries. But when I bit into one biscuit, and it melted into buttery cream in my mouth, I was instantly smitten. On the tray next to the rosewater flavored walnuts, almond baklava, salty dried cherries and pistachio nougat, little pale rounds topped with poppyseeds looked the least impressive of the lot.
One of the best things I tasted in Iran was a cookie.
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