Kian Samyani on the joys of Iranian food at Berenjak in Soho, London

Words Billie Brand
Photography Elliot Sheppard
Production Harry Cave

It’s a sunny morning in central London and Kian Samyani has reason to celebrate. Four years ago, the chef started Berenjak in Soho – and he’s just opened the doors to his second outpost in Borough Market too. The Iranian restaurant, named after a crispy rice dish, is a homage to the kebab shops of Tehran, which he warmly remembers visiting as a child. In a space that takes its design cues from the hole-in-the-wall establishments of his past, Kian is reimagining his favourite childhood foods, using the best British produce and the family-like values that defined his mealtime rituals.

Kian had worked in various kitchens since the age of 16, but getting a role at JKS, the family-run group behind the likes of BaoLyle’s and Flor, was his career-defining moment. He was cooking at its Indian restaurants Gymkhana and Brigadiers when the company’s founders, Jyotin, Karam and Sunaina Sethi, began the search for their next project. Kian made a winning case for a place serving Persian cuisine, something the capital’s culinary scene was somewhat lacking. “That’s how it started. I went from working on the concept’s development on the side of my job at Brigadiers to getting my own restaurant, which is crazy,” he says, “I’m not even obsessed with food myself. For me, it’s about feeding other people.” As he makes us dizi, a classic Iranian stew, Kian tells us about the dishes of his earlier years – and how they came to shape his future.

“Growing up, during the spring holiday of Nowruz, which is Persian New Year, my mum would take me and my two older brothers to Iran to visit our family for four weeks. Just down the road from our family’s townhouse was a hole-in-the-wall kebab shop. Iranian kebab shops are not like the ones you get here: the person behind the counter gives you raw meat to take to a grill on the street where it’s cooked for you. The whole street would just fill with the smell of onion, meat, charcoal, smoke and wood.

“My grandad introduced me properly to the kebab-shop owners. I would always go missing from the house and my family would find me at the shop, chatting with the people there. and I even had my own tab! My favourite thing to order was koobideh, which is minced lamb. It would be served on a skewer with bread, basil, bitter orange and sumac. It was so delicious. My eyes would light up as I ate it. I find kids love Iranian food because it’s quite mild – the spice isn’t too in your face. It’s just simple and seasoned well with things like garlic and onion. There’s nothing too alien about it.

“I’ve always been around food. We lived in Kingston when I was young and one of my brothers, who is 18 years old than me, ran a Tex-Mex place down the road in Twickenham. I would work with him after school sometimes, primarily as a way to stay out of trouble, prepping the food in the kitchen and helping with the washing up.

“At home, dinner was the only time we would all sit down together as a family, as my brothers were older and my dad was always at work – he also had a restaurant. So, every day, come 6pm, we would bond around the dinner table. My mum would always do the cooking. She would make a lot of stew, rice, salad and dips. She would stand over a pot and stir for three or four hours. But that’s what makes it really delicious. You can’t just leave it and come back to it – the dishes require love, care and attention. Iranian food is laborious. Berenjak, a dish my aunt would make for me, is the same. The rice has to be soaked in salted water, drained and the toasted in pot – and it takes time.

“We wouldn’t make kebabs at home that much, though. Back then, we didn’t use charcoal. We’d make a barbecue using wood we would axe from the garden. Kebabs only really happened at family gatherings. Once a month, everyone would come together at home or at my uncle’s house. We’d get the kebabs going regardless of the weather too – even if it meant cooking while holding an umbrella.

“That family attitude is mirrored at Berenjak. We are a close-knit team. I have known my head chef in Soho, for instance, for 14 years. We first worked together in Jamie’s in Kingston. We went our separate ways, but then we came back together for Berenjak. In fact, I have long-standing relationships with all the people here. We look after each other. I want my team to have a good work-life balance, so we’re always closed on Sundays, so everyone has at least one weekend day off.


“We use a lot of my parents’ cooking as a starting point. My dad talks me through his old Iranian recipes and then my team of chefs will try and make them even better, using the best produce. The most successful dishes are the chicken and lamb kebabs, marinated with saffron and lemon. Everything we serve them with is familiar fare too – fresh bread, rice, aubergine dips. As this place is our flagship, I don’t think the menu will change as much as it will at Borough Market. We just want to serve honest food, cooked simply over charcoal.

“I sit down and eat here three or four times a week and it ticks every box for me. Koobideh is honestly still my favourite thing to eat, especially at the end of a shift. For that reason, I don’t cook a lot at home. I’m knackered a lot of the time, especially now as my partner and I have had a baby. But if I do, I do it properly. Once a month, I will make a roast chicken, served with spring cabbage, carrot, good potatoes and yorkies. I don’t mess with our roasts.

“My advice to home cooks trying to make Iranian food would be to free their schedule. Read the recipe, invest in getting the right ingredients and try not to sub stuff. Sometimes it can be harder and means going out the way – especially when sourcing for Middle Eastern ingredients – but if it means getting the right produce, it’s worth it.”

Kian’s recipe for dizi – a classic Iranian stew

Dizi isn’t on our menu – and if it was going to be, it would need to be done in the right way. There’s a ceremony to it. You can cook this either on the hob or in the oven, if you have a casserole dish.”

Serves 2 to 3

Ingredients
70ml cooking oil
12g garlic
½ white onion
4g ground black pepper
3g ground turmeric
13g sea salt
25g tomato paste
50ml saffron water, optional
200g boneless lamb neck or shoulder
2 small peeled potatoes, peeled and diced
2 plum tomatoes, diced
60g dried chickpeas, soaked in water for a few hours then drained
3 Persian dried limes, pierced with a fork
1.7l chicken stock
20g salted butter
10g parsley, chopped

Heat the oil in a frying pan and add the garlic. When it starts to brown, add the onion and sauté until both are caramelised. While stirring, add the ground black pepper, turmeric, salt and tomato paste. When oil turns a reddish colour, mix in the saffron water (if using) and take off the heat.

Place the lamb, potatoes, tomatoes and chickpeas into a casserole dish, along with the dried limes. Add the sautéed onion and garlic mix to the dish and pour stock over the contents and give everything a mix. Throw in the salted butter.

Wrap a few sheets of foil over the dish as tightly as you can – you want to avoid too much liquid evaporating. If you’re using a gas or induction hob, cook on a low heat for 2 hours. Alternatively, place your casserole dish in centre of the oven and cook at 180 degrees Celsius for 3 hours.

In the meantime, prepare your condiments. My recommendations include torshi (Iranian pickled vegetables), khiarshoor (brined baby cucumbers), lighvan cheese, which is similar to feta, as well as herbs of your choice, finely chopped white onion and toasted sangak bread (or any flatbread you can get your hand on).

Once the lamb is cooked, squeeze the juice out of the now rehydrated limes and into the dish. Taste the soup and season with salt and pepper. Drain it into a large, keeping the rest of the solids in the dish. With a masher, crush the meat and other ingredients into a paste. Decant into a serving bowl and sprinkle with chopped parsley. Spoon a little of the soup over and serve.

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