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Have you ever reconfigured your day’s plans, just for a menu? Tida Persian Food in North Willoughby lists tahdig sandwiches on its website – something I’d never seen a Sydney restaurant offer before. So I knew it was worth tailoring an afternoon (or two) around this specialty.

My introduction to the tahdig was via Samin Nosrat’s Salt Fat Acid Heat. On the Netflix show, the Iranian-American cookbook author describes it as her “favourite favourite thing” growing up.

Mastering the crusty golden layer that develops at the bottom of this Persian rice dish is a revered skill. “New wives are judged on their tahdig,” she explains. And getting your fair share of the heat-crisped wonder can be a tableside battle.

“I’ve heard of people fighting over the tahdig,” says Parya Zaghand, the co-owner of Tida Persian Food. She laughs and recalls people resorting to bribery and bartering (trading scarce traces of dried lime from a Persian stew, for instance) to negotiate a larger tahdig portion.

“Mum used to actually make two pots so that there’s enough tahdig for the kids as well as for adults,” says the Tehran-born restaurateur.

Tida Persian Food offers this specialty in sandwich form, which means you get two crusty portions of prized tahdig on a plate.

On Salt Fat Acid Heat, the tahdig’s jagged gold layer is made purely of saffron-tinted rice, but Zaghand explains that practically anything – potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant (“my mum sometimes uses lettuce”) – can be used to form that crunchy base.

“Tah means bottom, dig means pot: so literally word for word, it means the bottom of the pot,” she says. At Tida Persian Food, that crisp layer is an oven-scorched foundation of bronzed, dimpled bread.

Your tahdig sandwich might be filled with fesenjan (chicken simmered with pomegranate molasses and walnuts or a vegan shiitake mushroom alternative), ghorme sabzi (herbed lamb stew with kidney beans) or gheimeh (a tomato-rich staple braised with meat, split peas and caramelised onions).

Some stews are also available in tahdig bowls: supersized versions of the sandwiches, loaded with extras such as charred tomatoes and grilled chillies. These bowls can also be stuffed with kebabs: the refreshing joojeh skewer is formed from chicken brightly marinated with lemon and saffron, while the popular koobideh is a mixture of lamb and beef mince flavoured with onion juice, saffron and salt.

These are shaped by Milad Amiri, the restaurant’s other co-owner. He helped set up his parents’ Persian eatery, Narin in Northmead, and looks after most dishes here.

Tahdigs are vividly garnished with ingredients Zaghand sources from Iran: pistachios, almonds and dried barberries refreshed in rosewater. They’re shipped here via the Saffron and More business she’s operated for over a decade.

Known as “sunshine spice” for its mood-boosting properties, saffron’s vibrant tones are also splashed across Tida Persian Food’s walls. This 16-seat cosy space feels just like a living room – there are no roped-off, VIP sections here.

A friend from Iran once told Zaghand: “it’s not really safe for us to go back … let’s just bring home here”. With its saffron-bright dishes, sunny warmth and tahdigs worth fighting for, Tida Persian Food is a welcome refuge for everyone.