When I was a little kid, maybe five or six, I had a pretty serious job—or at least, I thought it was serious. Every morning, especially in the summertime, I’d jump on my tiny bike and ride to the market. My mission? To get the freshest herbs for the day—sabzi khordan—which is basically a bunch of tarragon, basil, radish, mint, and sometimes chives. And of course, feta cheese and walnuts had to make it to the table too.

But before I left, my mom had one rule: “Make sure the guy gives you the freshest part of the herbs!” So there I was, standing at the market, making sure the vendor didn’t try to pass off anything less than perfect. I wasn’t shy about it either—I was on a mission to bring back the best. I wanted my mom to be proud of what I’d brought home, and I wasn’t about to mess it up.

Once I got home, my mom would wash and divide the herbs—some for lunch, some for dinner. But here’s the thing: I loved sabzi khordan so much that she had to hide the dinner portion in the fridge, away from my reach. “Don’t touch what’s in there! That’s for later!” she’d say, knowing full well I could eat the entire stash in one sitting. And trust me, I would’ve.

My parents and brother used to tease me. They’d say, “You’re supposed to eat the food and add the herbs to your bite, not make the herbs the main dish!” But for me, it was the other way around. I’d pile my plate with herbs and add just a tiny bit of food, like the food was just a side. What can I say? I was an herb fanatic.

In our house, sabzi khordan was the star of every meal. We’d wrap the herbs up with some feta cheese and walnuts or mix them in with every bite. The freshness made each meal complete.

That tradition of loving fresh, simple ingredients is something I still carry with me today. Even now, at our restaurant, we’re all about that same attention to freshness and flavor, just like my mom taught me.