Kilburn's Afghan connection

Nick Lander

Saturday 11 December 2010 • 3 min read

This article was also published in the Financial Times.

Afghanistan has generated many column inches but it has rarely been associated with Kilburn, a suburb of north-west London that has for many years boasted the highest Irish population in the capital.

But the Afghan connection is now twofold. Kilburn is home to The Tricycle Theatre, whose nine-hour epic, The Great Game trilogy, enthralled Londoners, including a special performance for the British Army, and is now playing at The Public Theatre, Washington Square, New York.

Kilburn is also home to Zeytoon, a restaurant that specialises in Afghan and Persian dishes and has just celebrated its second birthday.

This part of London is far from its most glamorous, and Zeytoon is hardly one of the city's most sophisticated places to eat, but the story of how Zeytoon has evolved is a clear demonstration of the humble origins of so many suburban restaurants. And quite how important is the family involved in establishing and manning them.

Zeytoon is run by Farhad Shirzad and his wife, Roya, and takes its name from the Farsi word for olives, a favourite of their small daughter at the time they were planning its opening. Shirzad first came to London to work for his father-in-law, Merza Nawrozzadeh (whom he respectfully refers to as Mr Merza), in the latter's carpet business until he finally succumbed to his long-cherished dream of opening a restaurant.

Although I did not know it at the time, I had encountered Mr Merza's gentle, bearded face the first time we ate at Zeytoon. He was sitting in the corner by the counter leading to the kitchen, worry beads in his hands, occasionally walking to the door to see whether the cold wind blowing down Cricklewood Broadway would bring in any more customers. He brought the tea at the end of our meal as well as the bill, handwritten in Farsi, a touch that is, according to his daughter Roya, highly appreciated by the growing number of Afghans and Iranians who live nearby.

By then we had enjoyed a small proportion of a very extensive menu that had included my first glass of doogh, a thin yoghurt drink mixed with herbs. While some of the first courses are common to any Middle Eastern menu, hummus and a dish of spinach mixed with yoghurt for example, the best were two warm aubergine dishes, one mixed with walnuts, the other considerably spicier and topped with curd cheese. Of equal billing was the crisp naan bread right out of the tanoor, the clay oven in the corner.

While Afghanistan and Iran share a border and a similar climate, and in fact several communal dishes, there is a conspicuous culinary divide in that the former's cooking incorporates more spices and stews while the latter concentrates on grilling and the more subtle influence of herbs. Stews of lamb with dried limes and split peas and chicken with pomegranates and walnuts epitomised the Afghan way, skewers of lamb fillet and minced lamb the Iranian approach. Mounds of steamed rice came with both, incongruously accompanied by the best saffron (for which Shirzad assured me he is currently paying £3,000 a kilo) and small packs of New Zealand Anchor butter since, I was also assured, rice in Afghanistan cannot be served without butter. The desserts are ultra-sweet.

My questions for Farhad and Roya on my return to Zeytoon had to wait until their obvious enthusiasm for what they have created had abated. While obviously hugely supportive, Roya declared that 'she was so nervous before the opening that she couldn't sleep', and that her nerves had only dissipated with the first party booking, incidentally from an Iraqi Christian woman for a party for 80, she recalled.

Farhad's pride in the brick arches, traditional doors and 100-year-old carpets that hang in the back of the restaurant is obvious. But his total investment of £200,000 has acted only as a spur to an even more ambitious dream. 'One day I would like something much, much bigger with a large garden area', he explained. This admission gave me the opportunity to ask how his restaurant, which for religious reasons does not serve alcohol, invariably any other restaurant's biggest source of profit, manages to prosper.

Farhad smiled and asked me to follow him into the kitchen. The back door led on to a parking lot via which the kitchen had just delivered lunch for 100 to a nearby Iranian old-aged home. 'We also do an awful lot of outside catering and this more than makes up for the absence of alcohol sales. During the first ten days of the holy month of Muharram, which began on 4 December, we can cater for 1,000-4,000 meals a night', he explained.

The six broad-shouldered male chefs, the two vast vats of rice and the thick, hefty skewers of chicken and lamb marinating in the fridges also provided the visual support for Farhad's response to my next question – whether there was a specific reason I had not seen any women working in the restaurant. 'This style of cooking is simply too physically demanding for female chefs. And in the restaurant I do employ waitresses when we have large parties of women', he added.

Next to Zeytoon is the Broadway Bagel Bakery. As I left I asked Farhad how he got on with his immediate neighbour. 'It's owned by Isaac, a Jew, and we get on very, very well', Farhad responded with a smile.

Zeytoon, www.zeytoon.co.uk