MY ENGLISH PERSIAN KITCHEN

Soho Theatre

★★★★

“Nefar has an infectious energy that easily commands the room”

‘My English Persian Kitchen’ takes its audience on a journey through time and space, from the loving Iranian childhood of its nameless protagonist (Isabella Nefar), to her dramatic escape from an abusive marriage, to finding her feet alone in London. Based on the life story of cookbook author and nutritional therapist Atoosa Sepehr, writer Hannah Khalil weaves these strands together through food. The Persian cuisine serves as a source of nostalgia, pride, and most of all, a crucial link to both the character’s family and her new community in England.

The woman is already chopping herbs as the audience walks into the auditorium, anchored behind a large wooden kitchen island, its open shelves stuffed with various kitchen utensils and spices. In Pip Terry’s evocative set, a small light hangs overhead, an awkwardly tall fridge stands forlornly in the background. The lights dim and the protagonist starts talking as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, relaxed, upbeat, and excited to share the smells of her spices, she makes for a perfect cook show host. But as her kitchen gets messier, so does the chef’s mind – plagued by the trauma of fleeing her native country on a moment’s notice, by memories of the oppressive marriage she ‘sleepwalked’ into, and the thought of the family and friends she left behind in Iran, Nefar impressively switches between seemingly lighthearted cooking instructions and narrating the darkest moments in her character’s life.

Nefar has an infectious energy that easily commands the room, never wanting for another performer to help carry the load. Guided, no doubt, by director Chris White and movement director Jess Tucker Boyd, she constantly interacts with the space and the set in unexpected ways that uphold the momentum she so expertly builds. However, Nefar’s is not strictly the only character – the ash-e-reshteh comes alive as she prepares it live on stage, and in just over an hour, the theatre is filled with the delicious smell of frying onions and herbs. As the ingredients drip and sizzle, they conjure up memories that leave the cook with no choice but to reveal more and more of herself, the constituent parts of her dish acting almost as conversationalists.

But the fragrant smells of this Persian noodle soup are not the only element to pander to the senses. Mary Langthorne’s lighting design is both effective and cinematic. The warm yellow light in which the woman is bathed as she cooks is cosy, but the stark circle around her also manages to evoke her loneliness. Cleverly using the dark to her advantage, Langthorne effortlessly transforms the character’s kitchen into an airport, a childhood home, or a private nightmare. In a few instances, almost complete darkness on stage obscures the kitchen entirely, momentarily transporting the character to wherever Nefar takes her.

The woman struggles to connect to the ‘politely disinterested’ people she meets in London until her neighbours start asking after the delicious smells that emanate from her flat: sharing her food allows her to share her culture and something of herself. The audience being invited to taste the ash-e-reshteh after the curtain falls could not be a more fitting, heartwarming, and (frankly) hotly anticipated ending to this original and hopeful show.