Every March, as Nowruz approaches, my mother starts assembling ingredients for haft mewa. She does this with the seriousness of a scientist preparing an experiment - inspecting dried fruits at multiple shops, rejecting anything that looks too old or too artificially coloured, and debating with herself about proportions as though she hasn’t made this exact recipe every year for three decades.

Haft mewa means “seven fruits” in Dari, and that’s precisely what it is: seven types of dried fruit and nuts soaked in water to create a sweet, fragrant compote that’s served during Nowruz, the Persian and Afghan New Year, which falls on the spring equinox around March 20-21.

It sounds simple, and it is. But like most simple things in Afghan cooking, the simplicity is deceptive. The specific fruits, the quality of each ingredient, the soaking time, and even the serving vessel all carry meaning and provoke opinion.

The Seven

The exact seven fruits vary by family and region, but the most common combination in Afghan tradition includes:

Kishmish (raisins) - both green and red varieties. Green raisins are milder and sweeter. Red raisins have more depth. Most families use both. My mother buys her raisins from an Afghan grocery in Auburn, Sydney, where they stock the long, golden Afghan raisins that are different from what you’ll find at Woolworths.

Senjed (dried oleaster) - the fruit of the Russian olive tree. This is the most distinctly Central Asian ingredient and the hardest to find in Australia. Senjed has a dry, mealy texture and a mild, date-like flavour. If you can’t find it (and many families in Australia struggle to), some substitute dried jujube or simply use six fruits instead. My mother considers using six fruits a personal defeat and will drive to three different shops to find senjed.

Badam (almonds) - blanched or unblanched, left whole. Almonds add crunch and substance to the compote.

Pista (pistachios) - unsalted, preferably still in their shells or lightly shelled. Afghan pistachios are smaller and more intensely flavoured than the common Iranian or American varieties, but any good-quality unsalted pistachio works.

Charmaghz (walnuts) - halved or quartered. Walnuts add a slight bitterness that balances the sweetness of the raisins and apricots.

Qaisee (dried apricots) - the small, dark, unsulphured variety if possible. Bright orange sulphured apricots work but have a different flavour profile. Traditional Afghan dried apricots are darker, chewier, and more intensely flavoured.

Anjeer (dried figs) - or in some families, dried cherries, dried mulberries, or even dried peaches. The seventh fruit is where families exercise the most individual preference.

Making It

The preparation is as straightforward as the name suggests. Place all seven fruits and nuts in a large glass or ceramic bowl. Cover with cold water - enough to submerge everything by at least three centimetres. Cover the bowl and let it soak.

Here’s where the arguments start: how long to soak.

My mother soaks hers for a minimum of three days before Nowruz. She says this is the correct method because the flavours need time to meld and the water needs time to absorb the sweetness of the dried fruits. The liquid should turn a deep amber colour, almost like tea, and have a natural sweetness without any added sugar.

My aunt soaks hers overnight and serves it the next day. My mother considers this unacceptably hasty but has stopped saying so directly.

Some families add a small amount of sugar or honey to the soaking water. In my household, this is unnecessary because the dried fruits provide enough sweetness on their own - but I’ve had versions at other families’ Nowruz tables that included a few tablespoons of sugar, and they were delicious too.

No heat is involved. You don’t cook haft mewa. Everything happens at room temperature or in the refrigerator. The cold water slowly rehydrates the dried fruits, and the natural sugars dissolve into the liquid, creating a sweet, fragrant syrup.

The Symbolism

Haft mewa isn’t just food. It’s a ritual object tied to the Haft Sin table, the traditional Nowruz display of seven symbolic items beginning with the letter S (sin) in Farsi. In Afghan tradition, haft mewa often accompanies or sometimes replaces elements of the Haft Sin display.

The number seven is significant across many cultural and religious traditions, and in Afghan Nowruz celebrations it represents abundance, renewal, and the diversity of creation. Each fruit is sometimes assigned a specific meaning - almonds for wisdom, raisins for sweetness in life, walnuts for strength - though these associations vary by family and aren’t rigidly codified.

What’s universal is that haft mewa is shared. It’s served to guests, brought to neighbours, and taken to community gatherings. Offering someone haft mewa during Nowruz is an act of inclusion. It says: you’re part of this celebration. You’re welcome at this table.

Haft Mewa in Australia

Making haft mewa in Australia presents one consistent challenge: finding all seven traditional ingredients in the right quality. Most are available at Afghan, Iranian, or Middle Eastern groceries in Sydney and Melbourne. Senjed remains the hardest to source, though I’ve seen it at shops in Auburn, Granville, and Dandenong.

The Afghan community in Sydney has grown substantially over the past two decades, and Nowruz celebrations have become more visible. Community events in places like Fairfield, Auburn, and Liverpool often feature haft mewa alongside other Nowruz foods. The Multicultural NSW website sometimes lists Nowruz events for those interested in attending.

For my family, making haft mewa in Australia carries an additional layer of meaning. It’s a connection to a country most of us haven’t visited in decades, preserved through food and ritual. My mother left Kabul in the 1990s. She’s made haft mewa every single Nowruz since - first in Peshawar, then in Sydney. The recipe hasn’t changed. The bowl she uses hasn’t changed. The seriousness with which she selects each ingredient hasn’t changed.

Food is memory. Haft mewa is my mother’s way of saying that some things survive displacement.

Try It Yourself

If you’d like to make haft mewa, here’s a basic approach:

Combine roughly equal portions of raisins (green and red), almonds, pistachios, walnuts, dried apricots, dried figs, and senjed (or a substitute). A handful of each is fine for a family serving. Place everything in a glass bowl, cover with cold water, and refrigerate for at least 24 hours - though three days is better.

Serve in small bowls or cups, including plenty of the sweet liquid. It’s eaten as a snack, a dessert, or simply as part of the Nowruz table throughout the holiday period.

There’s no wrong way to eat it, no perfect ratio, and no authority on the “correct” recipe except every Afghan grandmother who has ever lived, each of whom will tell you that her version is the only authentic one.

They’re all right. That’s the beauty of it.