On a recent evening in Omaha, the smoky aroma of grilled steak mingled with the scent of cardamom and simmering rice drifting from the kitchen.
Outside, Tom Gouttierre flipped meat on the grill. Inside, the Safi sisters stirred pots of qabuli palaw and shaped dough for a stuffed Afghan bread called bolani.
One family was welcoming the other into their Nebraska home after they had fled the Taliban rule of Afghanistan. The other family was expressing gratitude for the hospitality. They were doing this through American steak and Afghan favorites.
For two months, the Gouttierre home became a cultural crossroads, a place where decades of diplomacy and recent displacement met over shared meals and late-night conversations.
“We laughed, cried, played games, and shared stories,” Gouttierre said. “It felt like family — like Kabul had come to Omaha.”
In Nebraska, Afghan refugees are feeding a connection between past and present, strangers and neighbors, memories and belonging. Thousands were resettled here after the Taliban regained power in 2021. Others came long ago, during the 1980s Soviet invasion of their homeland.
These various generations are now nourishing each other and Omahans.
They’re doing it through food.
“Hospitality is the heartbeat of Afghan culture,” said Gouttierre, a former director of the Center for Afghanistan and Regional Studies at the University of Nebraska at Omaha. “If you travel to Afghanistan, the first thing you’ll notice isn’t just the landscape or the language — it’s people offering you tea, food, even their homes.”
Gouttierre would know. In 1965, he and his wife, Marylu, moved to Kabul as Peace Corps volunteers. He taught English in high schools and later at Kabul University.
“Students would bring me noql — an Afghan candy with almonds in it. Neighbors showed up with meals. There were constant invitations for chai and gatherings,” he recalled. “It took me by surprise at first, but I soon realized that food was their way of showing respect, care and connection.”
A taste of Afghanistan in Nebraska
Nearly 60 years after his first trip to Kabul, Gouttierre’s Omaha home is a living tribute to the country he called home for 10 years. Hand-woven kilims and rugs line the floors. Wooden carvings and Afghan artwork hang from the walls. And now, the aroma of Afghan cooking made by Afghans has returned to his kitchen.
In September 2024, Gouttierre and his wife welcomed a newly arrived Afghan family into their home. Lutfullah Safi, a former Fulbright scholar at UNO, had fled Taliban rule with his wife and three daughters to give his daughters a future where they could study, work and live freely.
Now 78, Safi had taught at Kabul University and helped revise his country’s education system after the fall of the Taliban’s first regime. “We changed the war curriculum to peace,” he said.
His voice breaks when he speaks of his youngest daughter, Hasina, who was in her final semester of medical school in 2021 when the Taliban closed schools and universities for girls. “She was so close,” he said.
The Safi family left for Pakistan in 2021, relying on Gouttierre’s recommendation to apply for a P-2 refugee case — a program for Afghans affiliated with U.S. projects, less restricted than the Special Immigrant Visa. Though their case was approved in 2022, they lived in limbo for nearly three years until arriving in Omaha in 2024.
For Hasina, those first weeks in Nebraska were a turning point.
“It was the first time in years I felt like I belonged,” she said. “We were welcomed with love, with open arms and with food.”
The family has since rented a place of their own. Two daughters now work at Panda Express and have applied to study at UNO.
Gouttierre helped the Safis adjust in more ways than one. On their second night, he suggested they watch an American movie together every night. Most nights they did. Hasina’s favorite was “50 Summers,” a documentary that taught her about Nebraska’s unpredictable weather. “We learned about American culture little by little,” she said.
The language of food
Afghan food is rich, aromatic and layered with meaning. Meals are not eaten — they’re shared, with intention. Spices such as cumin, turmeric, cinnamon and black pepper season dishes and memories.
There’s a common Persian saying: Nan o piaz, pinake baz — “Bread and onion, open forehead”— which means, even if you have little to offer, a warm, welcoming spirit is what matters most.
“The first thing the Safis did when they arrived was cook for us,” Gouttierre said. “It was their way of saying ‘thank you.’”
To help introduce the Safis to American cuisine, the Gouttierres took them to a local steakhouse.
“We encouraged them to try medium rare,” Gouttierre said. “Only Hasina was brave enough. The rest wanted it well done.”
In Afghan tradition, meat is always fully cooked and typically halal — slaughtered according to Islamic principles, with a prayer of gratitude. Lamb is especially revered and reserved for honored guests.
“Marylu and I never really fell for lamb,” Gouttierre said, “but we came to appreciate its cultural significance.”
Ashak and mantu
Other Afghan favorites include ashak, steamed dumplings filled with leeks and topped with garlicky yogurt, tomato sauce and dried mint.
Its cousin, mantu, is stuffed with ground beef and onions. Both are “craving foods,” made in large batches and often in response to a single group message: “Let’s make ashak tonight.”
“It’s like Americans asking ‘dog or cat person,’” Hasina said. “Afghans ask, ‘Ashak or mantu?’ We argue about it — lovingly — for hours.”
Then there’s bolani, the fried flatbread filled with seasoned potatoes or leeks, ground beef or pumpkin, and served with spicy chutney.
“These foods aren’t just eaten — they’re made together, with laughter, gossip and community,” Hasina said.
Omaha has an increasing number of places where you can find these foods — and many others. Two Afghan restaurants and at least two grocery stores offer everything from rosewater sweets and cardamom tea to fresh naan, saffron and imported spices.
At Afghan Mahal Supermarket & Restaurant near 120th Street and West Center Road, patrons are welcomed with a cup of strong green tea — popular in southern Afghanistan and often sweetened. The store also sells traditional clothing imported from Afghanistan.
The supermarket was purchased in 2019 by two Afghan immigrants, Safar Khan Shinwari and Aman Khan, who didn’t know each other in Afghanistan despite being from the same village.
Shinwari came to the U.S. in 2015 through a Special Immigrant Visa after working with the U.S. government. Educated and fluent in English, he took a factory job and drove for Uber. In 2021, after the Taliban takeover, he returned to Afghanistan to bring his wife and nine children — five sons and four daughters — to safety.
Aman Khan, Shinwari’s business partner, worked in Afghan special forces with American troops. He, his brothers and an uncle were evacuated to the U.S. on Aug. 15, 2021 — the day the Taliban regained control.
One dish they made together was qabuli palaw — Afghanistan’s national dish (which sometimes is spelled kabuli pulao). It’s a fragrant rice pilaf with carrots, raisins and nuts, often served with lamb or beef.
“Alhamdulillah,” said Aman, saying an Arabic phrase that translates to “praise be to God.” “This store feeds my family and helps other Afghan families stay connected to their roots.”
Safar Khan’s son, Lughman, sees Afghan Mahal Supermarket as far more than a place to shop for groceries and clothes. “This is more than a business. It’s a bridge to our past — and a place to build a new community.”
Serving tradition and connection
Shaheen’s restaurant is another Afghan-run business in Omaha, started by a family with roots in the U.S. stretching back 40 years.
The restaurant blends modern and traditional Afghan décor, with old photos on the walls and four-generation family portraits — featuring only the men — at the reception area.
But the heart of the restaurant is the kitchen, where the eldest daughter does the cooking. She learned everything from her mother and grandmother. In Afghanistan, recipes are rarely written down, but rather passed down by word of mouth.
Shaheen’s opened in 2019 in a strip mall near 119th and Pacific streets. It’s temporarily closed, but it will reopen at some point for takeout only. Last year, the family opened a second branch at 62nd and Maple streets. The restaurant is founded and owned by Shahen Shah.
Shah’s fifth son is Omid Shah, a UNO sophomore and a new real estate agent who has watched, and helped, as his father built a family restaurant.
“My dad always dreamed of owning one,” Omid said. “He’s a huge fan of cooking and used to make us five-star meals at home … he’s an incredible cook. More than that, he wanted to create a family business that could support all of us and bring us together.”
Recently, Omid watched as a man in traditional Afghan clothing biked past the restaurant. He looked up, slowing his bike. He saw the photos of Afghan food on the windows. And he smiled before biking away.
“It’s those moments that remind us why this place matters,” Omid said.
Inside the restaurant, along with tables and booths, guests can find traditional Afghan floor seating — a cultural hallmark where diners sit on mattresses instead of chairs — and a small prayer space. “We want people to feel like they’re eating in Afghanistan,” Omid said.
Half of the restaurant’s American-born customers are already familiar with Afghan cuisine, he said. Many served in the U.S. military and deployed to Afghanistan. Other diners remember an Afghan restaurant that operated in Omaha in the late 20th century before that restaurant’s owner returned to Afghanistan.
Shaheen’s most popular dishes? “Definitely qabuli palaw and kebabs,” Omid said.
of Shaheen’s
There’s also doogh, a traditionally sour, yogurt-based drink with dried mint.
“It’s one of those things people either love or don’t,” he added.
Secret menu
Some Afghan dishes never make it onto restaurant menus. They’re the kind of meals you only experience if invited into an Afghan home.
Many of these foods were born from necessity — simple ingredients transformed into comforting meals during times of war and poverty. For Afghans, these dishes are deeply emotional — tied to identity, memory and resilience.
Take qoruti, for example. It’s a soupy, tangy gravy served over torn pieces of bread. It may not sound fancy, but it’s packed with nutrients and history.
“We make everything from scratch,” Omid said. “Even the whey is a process — turning milk into a thick yogurt, then into solid sour whey. It’s labor-intensive, but part of who we are.”
In kitchens across Omaha, on the shelves of the Afghan supermarket and on the sizzling grills at Shaheen Restaurant, Afghan refugees are cooking. They’re also building bridges, creating moments when strangers become neighbors.
They are quietly, powerfully reminding us that food isn’t just sustenance. It’s a language of belonging.
This story was done in collaboration with Omaha Magazine, which published it as part of their summer food issue.
