Celebrating Nowruz and Sizdah Bedar: Persian Traditions in the UK

Confession: I’m a little superstitious, and celebrating Persian traditions like Nowruz and Sizdah Bedar in the UK is therapy when we don’t get to see family. After a rather muted pandemic year, we were determined to bring our Persian customs back to life. We did this in the form of a mini picnic, compared to the grand celebrations H grew up with.

Entertaining the neighbours

Explaining these traditions to my Western friends is always a bit of theatre. “Fire-jumping during Chaharshanbe Suri?” they ask, wide-eyed. Yes, dear friends, that’s a thing. And yes, we do it in the garden with our neighbours staring over the fence. Celebrating Persian traditions in the UK definitely comes with its quirks, but I love it. It’s my chance to inject some culture into everyday life and teach Cyrus that the world is bigger, wilder, and more educational than any school lesson.

Blooming into spring with Nowruz

Nowruz is the Persian New Year, but for me, it’s all about ushering spring indoors. This year, it turned into a crash course in responsibility for Cyrus. Every morning, he tended to his sabzeh (lentil sprouts) like a miniature horticulturalist, brass mister in hand. He’d mist, poke, and prod, and within days those tiny green shoots had transformed into a windowsill masterpiece. Cyrus beamed with pride seeing this. I beamed too. It’s rare to see a six-year-old take a plant so seriously. And now, of course, he wants bigger houseplants to mist!

Sizdah Bedar celebration

Thirteen days after Nowruz, Sizdah Bedar rolls around. It’s the day you take the party outdoors because staying inside apparently invites bad luck. We pack a picnic, grab the sabzeh, and head for the woods. Tradition dictates that we release our little green shoots into running water, sending them downstream for good fortune. And yes, it’s fun but slightly more chaotic than it sounds.

Down memory lane

Back in Iran, families would tie sabzeh to car bonnets and drive off like leafy royalty. We skipped that, thanks to UK health and safety rules. Instead, we snapped photos of Cyrus grinning on the car bonnet, proudly holding the sabzeh. It made me wish I could bottle that scene for every dull weekday morning.

Trading kotlet for nature

Our Sizdah Bedar picnic took place at Plessey Woods Country Park in Northumberland. We had sandwiches, Persian kotlet, a thermos of soup that was more “experimental,” and a couple of granola bars. H, Cyrus, and pesar khaleh Esi were fed and reasonably happy. There was sunshine, trees, and we enjoyed a lovely walk.

“Cyrus’s sabzeh became the star of the park. One group of girls ran up to cheer “Sizdah Bedar Mobarak!” It’s funny how something as simple as a lentil sprout can spark so much interest.”

Wishes in the stream

We found a quiet stream for our sabzeh casting. Each of us released our green shoots into the water, making silent wishes as they floated away. A few stubborn sprouts needed nudging with a stick, which felt oddly satisfying. I refrained from tying a knot in mine and wishing for a husband, some traditions are best left untested, but I did hope for a year filled with fantastic adventures.

Wrapping up Nature Day

After our woodland adventures, wishes floated downstream, sabzeh had officially left our hands, and Cyrus kept pointing back toward the forest, proud of the leafy kingdom we’d left behind. Driving home, the car bonnet glinted in the late afternoon sun. Back in our garden, the BBQ crackled, and we toasted a glass to Persian traditions.

Grow your own sabzeh

• Choose organic, whole lentils. Split or cracked ones won’t sprout.
• Soak them 12-24 hours to soften and kickstart growth.
• Drain, rinse, place in a shallow tray, and cover with a damp cloth.
• Keep cloth damp but avoid overwatering.
• Place in a warm, well-lit spot (no direct sun).
• Check daily. Sprouts appear in 7-10 days.
• Display on your haft-sin table to celebrate growth and renewal.