We were on our way back home, to the village, and Marzi was behind the wheel. The plan was to get back home before it got dark, but the sun had already set about an hour ago. My grandma recommended this thermal pool near by, three hours away. So we decided to take a daytrip, enjoy the landscape and relax in the hot pool. It was the perfect idea, and the views were priceless. Mom was taking the backseat.
We weren’t hungry, it must’ve been for the weather, and that we were surrounded by new tastes and smells. I had an urgent craving for Ash-e Dugh. It’s some type of traditional soup with wheat and chick peas and yogurt drink. You can add meat if you want to, and some garlic for taste, but I’m not sure which green herbs they put in; I need to ask my mom some day. We should’ve traveled all the way to Astara to have a bowl of the real deal; I once ate this soup there when I was very young; can still taste its sourness in my mouth. We couldn’t travel to Astara, but lucky for us, this neighboring town also had a reputation for its hearty Ash-e Dugh. We took a half tour around the town to see if we could find any restaurants, or some kind of buffet which served the soup. There was none, and it was late enough to make us give up. We’ll have it another time, another day, we promised ourselves, although there was a chance it might never happen again.READ MORE