The feeling of nostalgia hits in strong doses, some days more than others. Just one month ago, on a gray winter day in the Tehran suburb of Lavasan I walked alongside my father and uncle passing this pomegranate truck. The brightness of the red fruit against the cold day made me feel warm inside. The thought of cracking open a pomegranate. The challenge of extracting those red rubies without staining your clothing. The crunch and satisfaction of eating the precious winter fruit. The beauty of pomegranate is I can eat it here in New York, but it will still always remind me of Iran.