They were four clean-cut Columbia grads who’d met in college and quickly created one of the most distinctive sounds and styles in contemporary rock-brainy, winsome lyrics peopled with characters out of a Whit Stillman movie or a Salinger story a catchy, sunny amalgam of Afro pop and Anglo-American New Wave. Anybody who listened to indie music at all had. ![]() “Who knows? Maybe I’ve heard of it.” “Vampire Weekend,” she said. She mentioned something about her son playing in a band in New York. I mentioned that mine, then ten and thirteen, were into music. Najmieh and I talked a bit about the Persian cuisine she’d been studying, writing about, and preparing for years, and eventually the conversation turned to our kids. She said her name-Najmieh Batmanglij-and I recognized her as the author of one of my favorite cookbooks, “Silk Road Cooking: A Vegetarian Journey,” the dog-eared paperback from which my husband had just that week cooked a cumin-scented rice polow with lentils, dates, and currants. A few years ago, at a party in Washington, D.C., I started a conversation with a small, dark-haired, middle-aged woman standing next to me at the dessert table.
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