Ghormeh sabzi is one of Iran’s best-known traditional dishes, a slow-cooked herb stew usually made with lamb or beef, kidney beans and dried Persian limes. The name roughly translates as a stew of meat and greens, although that rather plain description doesn’t do justice to something that inspires such affection in Persian households.

The herbs are what make it distinctive. Large quantities of parsley, coriander, chives or spring onions, and fenugreek are finely chopped and fried before being added to the stew. The dried limes, known as limoo amani, provide a sharp, slightly bitter flavour that balances the richness of the meat. Everything cooks slowly until the lamb is tender and the herbs have softened into a thick, dark sauce.

It isn’t the sort of dish that wins prizes for presentation. A good ghormeh sabzi is usually dark green, sometimes bordering on brown, and can look rather unpromising to someone encountering it for the first time. But appearances are misleading. The flavour is rich, earthy and tangy, and when served with fluffy Persian rice, it becomes the sort of meal that makes people sleepy around the dinner table.

Like many traditional dishes, ghormeh sabzi comes with strong family opinions. Some cooks insist on kidney beans, others prefer different varieties. Some use lamb on the bone, while others favour diced meat. There are also disagreements about how long the herbs should be fried and how sour the finished stew ought to taste. I suspect that if you gathered ten Persian families in one kitchen, you’d end up with at least eleven opinions about the correct way to make it.

In our house, Cyrus has always been interested in the lamb. The meat becomes tender after hours of cooking, and he enjoys eating it with rice and the thick herb sauce. When he was very small, he wasn’t concerned with the finer points of Persian cuisine. He just knew that ‘lamb on the bone’ was one of his favourite dinners.

Growing up in Britain, my experience of vegetables was rather different. Cabbage, carrots and peas were familiar fixtures on the dinner plate, usually boiled and served alongside meat and potatoes. They were something you were expected to eat because they were good for you, rather than because anyone had gone to much trouble to make them interesting.

Persian cooking introduced me to a different way of using vegetables and herbs. Rather than appearing as a side dish, they are often central to the meal itself. Fresh herbs are served alongside bread, cheese and other accompaniments, while dishes such as lubia polo combine green beans with rice, tomatoes and spices. Ghormeh sabzi takes this a stage further by making herbs the defining ingredient.

I remember being struck by the sheer quantity of greenery involved in preparing it. There is an awful lot of washing, drying and chopping before anything reaches the saucepan. What starts as a substantial pile of herbs gradually cooks down into the sauce, filling the kitchen with a smell that is unmistakably Persian.

For Cyrus, however, he is growing up seeing his father eat these dishes, and ghormeh sabzi was just part of our family menu. There was no special campaign to persuade him to eat parsley or fenugreek. The herbs were already there, doing what they were supposed to do, making the stew taste good.

I wasn’t secretly sneaking vegetables into his food or trying to deceive him about what he was eating. He was too young to understand every ingredient. As he became older, he started taking more interest in how meals were prepared, but by then the flavours were familiar.

Of course, enjoying ghormeh sabzi doesn’t automatically mean a child will enjoy every vegetable put in front of them. Herbs are not a direct substitute for a varied selection of vegetables, and Cyrus has always had his own preferences. But the stew introduced him to a generous amount of greenery without making it the subject of a battle at dinner.

There is research suggesting that the example parents set can influence the foods their children eat. A study published in Food Quality and Preference in January 2020 examined the eating habits of 114 Finnish children aged three to five and the role of their home food environment.

Researchers from the Universities of Eastern Finland, Jyväskylä and Turku used surveys completed by 100 parents to investigate children’s consumption of raw vegetables, cooked vegetables, fruit and berries. They found that mothers’ eating habits were associated with children’s consumption across all four categories, while fathers’ eating habits had their strongest association with cooked vegetables.

Researcher and nutritionist Kaisa Kähkönen, from the University of Eastern Finland, explained:

I rather like that finding, particularly because mothers so often seem to carry the responsibility for what their children eat. We are expected to prepare nutritious meals, introduce new flavours, avoid excessive sugar and somehow make the whole experience enjoyable. That’s quite a responsibility to attach to a plate of carrots.

In our house, Cyrus has grown up watching both of us enjoy different foods, including his father’s Persian favourites. My husband didn’t need to deliver a lecture about the nutritional benefits of herbs. He just enjoyed his ghormeh sabzi, and Cyrus developed a liking for it too.

The researchers also found that dinner was the most important meal at home for encouraging vegetable consumption among the families studied. Evening snacks were particularly important for fruit. The findings highlighted the opportunities that family meals provide for children to encounter vegetables in different forms.

The study was relatively small and relied on parental surveys, so it cannot prove that a father’s fondness for ghormeh sabzi will turn his child into an enthusiastic vegetable eater. But it does support the broader idea that children’s eating habits develop within the family, influenced by what they regularly see and experience.

The University of Eastern Finland’s original research announcement provides further details about the findings.

There is no shortage of advice about getting toddlers to eat vegetables. Parenting websites are full of suggestions for hiding spinach in smoothies, blending courgettes into pasta sauce and disguising cauliflower beneath enough cheese to make its presence almost irrelevant.

I understand why parents try these things. When a child refuses vegetables, particularly over a long period, mealtimes can become exhausting. There is also the worry that they aren’t getting the nutrients they need, and sometimes finding a way to include vegetables in a familiar dish feels like the most practical solution.

But Cyrus’s enthusiasm for ghormeh sabzi made me think differently about the whole business of hiding greens. In this case, the herbs weren’t an unwelcome addition that needed to be concealed. They were essential to the dish. Without them, it simply wouldn’t be ghormeh sabzi.

As Cyrus grew older, he also developed a liking for other vegetables. He enjoyed crunchy cucumber, including the Persian pickled variety known as khiar shoor, and raw white cabbage, or kalam sefid. Green beans were another favourite, particularly when they retained a little texture rather than being cooked into submission.

Our weekly supermarket trips became entertaining once he started expressing his own opinions about what should go into the trolley. While I might have expected requests for biscuits or chocolate, Cyrus would ask for pineapple, pomegranates and watermelon. These are fruits rather than vegetables, of course, but I was pleased that he was interested in trying different foods.

I wouldn’t claim that ghormeh sabzi was responsible for all of this. Children develop their own tastes, and some are naturally more adventurous than others. But I do think growing up with a variety of foods, including those connected to his Persian heritage, helped make unfamiliar flavours less intimidating.

As Cyrus became older, I started involving him in preparing meals. This wasn’t always the quickest way to get dinner on the table. Cooking with a small child can turn a simple task into a lengthy operation involving water on the worktop, ingredients rolling across the floor and repeated questions about what you’re doing.

Nevertheless, I gave him small jobs. He could wash vegetables, tear lettuce leaves, sprinkle herbs or help mix ingredients. Sometimes he was more interested in splashing water around the sink than preparing dinner, but he enjoyed being included.

I noticed that he often showed more interest in eating something when he’d helped choose or prepare it. Green beans selected at the supermarket were suddenly worth investigating when they appeared on his plate. A cucumber he’d washed himself seemed rather more interesting than one I’d taken from the fridge.

There were limits, naturally. Sharp knives, boiling pans and hot ovens remained firmly the responsibility of adults. I wasn’t about to hand a toddler a kitchen knife in the interests of encouraging independence. But there were enough safe little tasks to give him a sense of involvement.

Looking back, those afternoons in the kitchen were about more than vegetables. Cyrus was learning how food was prepared, asking questions and spending time with us. He was also discovering that the meals he enjoyed involved ingredients, effort and occasionally quite a lot of washing-up.

I wouldn’t dream of claiming that ghormeh sabzi is a guaranteed solution to fussy eating. A child who dislikes mixed textures or strong flavours might take one look at a dark green Persian stew and refuse to go anywhere near it. What worked for Cyrus won’t necessarily work for every child.

Nevertheless, our experience taught me a few things that may be useful to other parents.

Some of my favourite memories of Cyrus’s early childhood involve ordinary family dinners. Not elaborate meals prepared for special occasions, but evenings when we sat together, talked about our day and listened to whatever had captured his imagination. Sometimes dinner was accompanied by a lengthy explanation of something he’d learned, and sometimes the conversation revolved around whether pineapple belonged on pizza. For the record, I think it does.

Our family meals also gave Cyrus an opportunity to experience both sides of his heritage. Persian food wasn’t something reserved for celebrations or visits to relatives. It was part of what we ate at home, alongside familiar British dishes. I hope that growing up with those flavours will give him an appreciation of the culture behind them, as well as the confidence to try unfamiliar foods when he’s older.

I recognise, however, that we’ve been fortunate. Some children are naturally cautious about new tastes and textures, while others have genuine difficulties with eating. Parents dealing with restricted diets, sensory sensitivities or persistent food refusal don’t need to be told that a bowl of Persian stew will solve everything. What worked for Cyrus won’t necessarily work for another child, and there is no shame in finding mealtimes difficult.

These days, Cyrus is older and increasingly confident about telling us what he likes. He still enjoys his vegetables and has plenty of opinions about what should go into our shopping trolley. But ghormeh sabzi remains special because it is a dish he has loved since he was very small.

I suspect that, as he gets older, he’ll develop his own opinions about how much fenugreek belongs in the stew, how sour it should taste and whether the lamb has been cooked for long enough.

For now, I just enjoy the fact that one of his earliest favourite meals was something so closely connected to his father’s upbringing. It wasn’t a fashionable toddler recipe or a clever way of sneaking vegetables into his diet. It was simply a traditional family dinner that happened to contain an enormous amount of herbs.

And if that meant Cyrus was eating his greens long before he understood what they were, I certainly wasn’t going to complain.

If you’ve never tried ghormeh sabzi, it’s worth making at least once, particularly if you enjoy slow-cooked dishes with plenty of flavour. It takes time, and there is a fair amount of herb preparation involved, but much of the cooking happens quietly on the hob.

This version uses lamb on the bone, just as Cyrus likes it, although diced lamb or beef can also be used. Persian families have their own variations, so consider this a traditional-style starting point rather than the final word on a much-loved dish.

Ingredients

• 750g–1kg lamb shoulder or shank pieces, preferably on the bone
• 2 large onions, finely chopped
• 2 tbsp vegetable oil, plus 3 tbsp for frying the herbs
• 200g fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
• 150g fresh coriander, finely chopped
• 100g fresh chives or green parts of spring onions, finely chopped
• 1–2 tbsp dried fenugreek leaves
• 1 x 400g tin kidney beans, drained and rinsed
• 3–4 dried Persian limes (limoo amani)
• 1 tsp turmeric
• 750ml–1 litre water or unsalted stock, as needed
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
• Steamed Persian rice, to serve

Method

1. Prepare the herbs. Wash the parsley, coriander and chives thoroughly, then dry them as well as possible before chopping finely. The herbs are the foundation of ghormeh sabzi, so don’t be alarmed by the quantity. They will reduce considerably during cooking.

2. Fry the herbs. Heat three tablespoons of oil in a large frying pan over a medium-low heat. Add the chopped herbs and cook gently for approximately 15–20 minutes, stirring regularly, until they darken and become fragrant. Stir in the dried fenugreek towards the end. The herbs should develop a deep green colour without burning.

3. Brown the lamb. In a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat the remaining oil and gently fry the onions until softened and golden. Add the turmeric and stir for about 30 seconds before adding the lamb. Brown the meat on all sides to develop flavour.

4. Combine the ingredients. Add the fried herbs to the lamb and onions, stirring to coat the meat. Pour in enough water or stock to mostly cover the ingredients, bring to a gentle simmer, then reduce the heat.

5. Add the dried limes. Pierce each dried lime several times with a fork or skewer before adding it to the stew. This allows the distinctive sour flavour to develop during cooking. For a milder result, use fewer limes. Avoid breaking them apart, as the seeds can contribute bitterness.

6. Cook slowly. Cover the saucepan and simmer gently for approximately two hours, stirring occasionally and adding a little more water if necessary. The lamb should begin to soften, while the herbs gradually become part of a rich, dark sauce.

7. Add the kidney beans. Stir in the drained kidney beans during the final 30 minutes of cooking. Continue simmering until the lamb is thoroughly cooked and tender enough to pull easily from the bone. The stew should be thick rather than watery.

8. Taste and serve. Season with salt and pepper, remove the dried limes if preferred and serve with fluffy Persian rice. If serving young children, remove all bones and check the meat carefully before putting it on their plates.

A few tips for getting ghormeh sabzi right

Don’t rush the herbs. Frying them gently helps develop the distinctive flavour of the stew. They should become darker and fragrant, but not scorched.

Give the lamb time. Ghormeh sabzi benefits from slow cooking. Tough meat and underdeveloped flavours are usually signs that it needs longer on the hob.

Be careful with the dried limes. Their sourness is part of the dish’s character, but too many can overwhelm it. Start with three if you’re unfamiliar with the flavour.

Make it ahead if you can. Like many stews, ghormeh sabzi often tastes even better the following day, once the flavours have had time to settle. Cool leftovers promptly, refrigerate and reheat thoroughly.

Serve it with rice. Persian steamed rice is the traditional accompaniment, and it’s good for soaking up the herb sauce. A little plain yoghurt or some fresh cucumber on the side works nicely too.

For young children, adjust the seasoning to suit their age and preferences. Keep salt modest, and always remove bones before serving.