Guests roll in fashionably late to Dance’s house, greeting with cheek-kisses and a joyful “kelelele!” while sports hum on TV and “Joft sheesh!” echoes over backgammon. Kids zigzag through the rooms, babies get thoroughly “nahzed,” and the kitchen keeps sending out Aush, tahdig, Gondi, Ghormeh Sabzi, and lemony kheeyar. When bellies growl, Dance dishes out heaping plates and gentle etiquette—“Merci” and “dastet dard nakone”—before the ritual tarof about taking leftovers. Chai and mint seal the night, “Khodahafez” floats at the door, and the lesson lands: her food gathers everyone like a hug.