It took a whole day of eating to feel like I was really back in Turkey. To feel it more surely, even, than when crossing the Bosporus Bridge the night before, with a light, low fog resting over the boats, or by being awakened at 5:30 in the morning by a loudspeaker calling the faithful to prayer at a neighborhood mosque.
I was looking for more familiar signs, like the note left the first morning by my Turkish friend Pelin Rau: “Please help yourself if you’d like to have some breakfast. We have everything you need: cheese, butter, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, eggs, honey, bread …” All the essentials, in other words, for a complete Turkish breakfast.
Later, a snack of simit-rounds of sesame seed bread-bought from a street vendor, and dinner at a little restaurant down the road settled me firmly at home. The dishes of fried eggplant slices in yogurt; cabbage leaves stuffed with rice and pine nuts; and slices of doner kebab-the tender, charcoal-charged, spit-roasted lamb that should make American gyro-sellers die of shame-were as welcoming as I could have hoped. My brother, who has his own nostalgia for the sour cherry sherbet you can find at ice cream stands everywhere, had asked me to be sure not to pass it up. I had two scoops in his honor.
It had been 25 years since my family lived in Istanbul while my father worked at the American Consulate. Turkey and I have always kept in touch, though, through visits to Turkish restaurants; with my mother’s great recipe for pilaf or the giant platter of stuffed grape leaves that are rolled for every buffet party at home; and the Christmas Eve dinners with friends from Istanbul, where cheese- or meat-stuffed borek (phyllo rolls), braised lamb, baked eggplant with tomatoes and peppers, and manti-lamb-filled dumplings in yogurt sauce-would be the feast.
So when it was time to actually go back, I wanted to visit my old school, to see friends who had returned to live or retire there, and to take in some sights, sure. But high on the agenda was eating.
Despite the popularity of Mediterranean food, few Americans understand what the fuss is about. They don’t realize that the Ottoman Empire, which ruled for six centuries, was the gateway for some of the best cooking in the world. It made its culinary reputation on sweet spices from the East, fish from the many seas surrounding it, oil from olive trees, the figs, dates, pomegranates, apricots and other fruit that flourished in its Mediterranean climate on the coast, and the roasted lamb dishes that were traditional in the Arab and Central Asian cultures.
During Ottoman rule, a formalized cuisine emerged, with more than 1,300 workers in the Topkapi Palace devoted to the kitchen by the 17th Century, Ayla Algar writes in her book “Classical Turkish Cooking.”
The Turkish style of cooking has changed very little. What makes it attractive today is the pleasure of its simple foods, such as the variety of white cheeses and a color palette of olives from pale green to purple to glossy black. Cucumbers and tomatoes, the other breakfast staples, turn up at meals all day, sliced plain with a little salt or tossed together in a salad with olive oil. Charcoal-grilled meats, such as lemony grilled chicken skewers and rotisseries of seasoned lamb, have universal appeal, and have helped popularize Turkish restaurants in the United States such as the Sultan’s Kitchen in Boston, Turkish Kitchen in New York, and A La Turka in Chicago.
The produce impressed New York native Robert Stern, who moved to Istanbul more than a year ago to become executive chef at the Tugra restaurant in the Ciragan Palace, a luxury hotel on the Bosporus.
“This is a very seasonal cuisine,” says Stern, whose specialty is a chicken breast entree stuffed with spinach, tomatoes and pine nuts. “People here only cook with the best of the best. If it’s not the right time of year for plums or nectarines or melons, they don’t eat it.”
There is more necessity than philosophy in this way of life. Although some neighborhoods have all-purpose grocery stores, cooks purchase most of their food from specialty shops-hazelnuts from the nut store or daily loaves of fresh bread from small bakeries. Open-air markets advertise their fare through the rich aromas of ripening fruit, hanging ropes of air-dried sausage and piles of fresh fish looking blankly up from a bed of ice.
Pelin walked me through the weekly market that takes over the street outside her apartment building and we shopped with other women, restless children and the stray cats that are everywhere in the city.
The pace was leisurely, as sellers hawked tubs of dozens of different olives, some plain and others cizik-style, meaning slit and marinated in olive oil, vinegar and lemon juice. Nearby stalls held neat rows of spices, dried medicinal roots and sacks of chickpeas and lentils.
Everything was offered for inspection, allowing us to run our hands through the piles of short-grain rice. Fresh figs as big as a fist and basketball-size cabbages competed for attention, along with displays of baby clothes, toys, bags of indigo dye and the small painted glasses in which tea is served here. Purchases are weighed, wrapped in paper and handed over with a smile.
This is up-close and personal shopping, nothing sealed in plastic or out of reach behind a glass case. You might not want to purchase dinner this way if it bothers you to see, as I did, a fishmonger hacking off the head of a fish while a lit cigarette dangled from his mouth.
There wouldn’t be much point in looking at ingredients if there were no time for a home-cooked meal. Pelin and her American husband, Jon Rau, my longtime friend from the international school here, made plans-after I begged-to take me to Pelin’s grandmother’s home for manti. Jon’s mother, Sara, has made wonderful manti for our American Christmas Eve dinners, but Jon told me some time ago that Pelin’s grandmother’s manti were the best. I had been dreaming about this meal for years.
Grandmother Semiha Surel, 78, lives in Fatih, the old part of the city, where our taxi snaked around a horse-driven cart in the narrow lane. We stepped gingerly around a giant pile of coal that had been poured out onto the street outside Surel’s apartment. Inside, she sat on the floor, a purple-and white-checked cloth covering her lap, a lightly floured wooden table called a sofra pulled up over her knees. She used a tapered wooden rod to roll out thin, wonton-like dough.
Surel brought to mind a line from the book “Turkish Reflections,” by novelist Mary Lee Settle: “At whatever age they are, Turkish women in the villages can sink to the floor like ballet dancers.”
Manti are a regional dish from Surel’s home in northeastern Turkey, Surel says as Pelin translates. “When we had manti, it was the whole meal, served with ayran (a thick yogurt drink) or tea or water. With other meals we have salad and rice, but with manti it’s the star of the night.”
Surel’s expert movements produced whisper-thin dough as strong and elastic as a balloon. Swiftly cutting the dough into 2-inch squares, she pinched teaspoonfuls from a bowl of ground lamb simply seasoned with salt and pepper, then wrapped and pinched the tops together like a string purse.
Surel browned them in oil in a large pan to get the bottoms golden, then braised the manti in a sauce of stewed tomatoes. The hot, slippery manti were dressed with a yogurt sauce punched up with garlic and drizzled with sizzling butter, paprika and dried mint. I had two bowls. Surel looked pleased.
We sat there drinking Cokes with slices of lemon, the windows open to the street below, feeling quite peaceful. It’s funny how you feel at home when you’re well-fed.
GUIDES TO TURKISH COOKING
As far away as Istanbul may seem to Chicagoans, there’s nothing exotic about cooking Turkish food here in the States. The vegetables, fruits, meats, fish and spices used in the recipes are easily purchased in most supermarkets and natural food stores.
To experiment further with the cuisine, check out these cookbooks.
“The Sultan’s Kitchen: A Turkish Cookbook,” by Ozcan Ozan. Published last year, this cookbook is from the chef of the Boston restaurant Sultan’s Kitchen. Easy recipe directions, lavish photographs and a list of ingredient resources are features of the book.
“Classical Turkish Cooking: Traditional Turkish Food for the American Kitchen,” by Ayla Algar. The Turkish-born Algar now lives in California and has translated the cuisine effortlessly for cooks here. The book has an interesting introduction on the history of Turkey and its food.
“Eat Smart in Turkey,” by Joan and David Peterson (Ginkgo Press; orders: 608-233-5488). Part culinary travel guide, part cookbook, “Eat Smart” is a good reference for the kitchen or to take on a visit to Turkey. The book includes recipes, a menu guide, glossary, Turkish phrases to use in a restaurant and mail-order resources.
“The Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean,” by Paula Wolfert. Wolfert is an expert on the cuisines of the Mediterranean, Middle East and North Africa. Here she presents some valuable recipes from Turkey as well as culinary history.
“The Art of Turkish Cooking: Or, Delectable Delights of Topkapi,” by Neset Eren. Originally published in 1969 by Doubleday, the book’s recipes are extremely simple and offer a traditional look at Turkish food.
GROUND LAMB KEBABS WITH YOGURT SAUCE (YOGURTHLU KEBAP)
Preparation time: 1 hour
Draining time: Overnight
Chilling time: 30 minutes
Cooking time: 12 minutes
Yield: 6 servings
From “The Sultan’s Kitchen,” by Ozcan Ozan.
Yogurt-garlic sauce:
1 2/3 cups plain yogurt
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste
Kebabs:
4 slices day-old white bread, crusts removed
2 pounds lean ground lamb
1/2 small yellow onion, minced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 large eggs
1/3 cup finely chopped fresh Italian parsley
1 tablespoon each: paprika, ground cumin
3/4 teaspoon salt or to taste
Freshly ground pepper to taste
Tomato sauce:
1 tablespoon plus 11/2 teaspoons olive oil
4 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded, finely chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
Freshly ground pepper to taste
Butter sauce:
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
1 tablespoon finely chopped Italian parsley
1 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper
2 rounds pita bread, toasted, cut into 1-inch cubes
1. Place yogurt in colander lined with cheesecloth; place over bowl. Allow yogurt to drain, refrigerated, overnight. Discard liquid. Stir in garlic and salt to taste; set aside.
2. For kebabs, soak bread in cold water briefly; squeeze out excess water. Combine bread, lamb, onion, garlic, eggs, parsley, paprika and cumin in large bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Mix together, using hands, 2 minutes. Cover; refrigerate 30 minutes.
3. For tomato sauce, heat olive oil in small saucepan over medium heat; stir in tomatoes. Cook about 1 minute, mashing tomatoes with potato masher or fork, until pureed. Season with salt and pepper. Keep warm.
4. Prepare grill or heat broiler. Divide meat mixture into 6 equal portions. Hold skewer upright with one hand; with other hand form meat into sausage shape, working to tip of skewer. Grill meat about 12 minutes, turning frequently.
5. For butter sauce, melt butter in small pan; stir in parsley, paprika, and red pepper. Keep warm.
6. Divide pita pieces among 6 serving plates. Pull skewer from meat; cut each into 4 or 5 slices and divide evenly among plates. Spoon tomato sauce over meat; top with yogurt-garlic sauce. Drizzle with butter sauce.
Nutrition information per serving:
Calories ……….. 6000 Fat ………… 35 g Saturated fat .. 15 g
% calories from fat .. 52 Cholesterol .. 195 mg Sodium ……. 955 mg
Carbohydrates …… 36 g Protein …….. 37 g Fiber ……… 3.4 g
CHICKEN STUFFED WITH PISTACHIOS AND CURRANTS
Preparation time: 30 minutes
Cooking time: 20-25 minutes
Yield: 4 servings
Adapted from Robert Stern, chef at Ciragan Palace Hotel, Istanbul.
4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
1 medium tomato, seeded, chopped
3/4 cup chopped pistachio nuts
1/3 cup dried currants, soaked in warm water until soft, drained
1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill
Salt, freshly ground pepper to taste
2 teaspoons vegetable oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 bag (10 ounces) fresh spinach leaves, washed, trimmed, chopped
1 cup whipping cream
1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Slice a pocket horizontally the length of each chicken breast. Combine tomato, pistachios, currants, dill, salt and pepper; stuff chicken breasts.
2. Brush chicken breasts with oil; place in baking pan. Bake 20 to 25 minutes.
3. Melt butter in large skillet over medium heat; cook onion and garlic until golden, about 8 minutes. Add spinach; cook 1 minute. Stir in cream.
4. Slice each chicken breast into 4 pieces. Place some of the sauce on plate; top with chicken slices and additional sauce.
Nutrition information per serving:
Calories ………… 625 Fat ………… 48 g Saturated fat .. 22 g
% calories from fat .. 67 Cholesterol .. 175 mg Sodium ……. 155 mg
Carbohydrates …… 17 g Protein …….. 36 g Fiber ……….. 6 g
CHEESE-STUFFED PHYLLO (PEYNIRLI BOREK)
Preparation tine: 30 minutes
Soaking time: Overnight
Cooking tim: 40 minutes
Yield: 50 pastries
Adapted from Robert Stern, chef at Ciragan Palace Hotel, Istanbul.
1/2 pound feta cheese
2 large eggs
1 cup (4 ounces) shredded mozzarella cheese
3/4 cup chopped parsley
1/4 cup chopped fresh dill
1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg
1 box (1 pound) frozen phyllo pastry sheets, thawed
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
1. Place feta in bowl with enough cool water to cover; refrigerate overnight to remove excess saltiness. Drain.
2. Mash together eggs, cheeses, parsley, dill and nutmeg with fork in medium bowl.
3. Place phyllo sheets on cutting board and cut lengthwise in half. Keep sheets covered with damp towel when not using. Take 1 half-sheet phyllo; brush with melted butter. Place 1 tablespoon cheese filling at bottom edge. Fold bottom edge over filling. Fold in sides toward filling. Continue rolling up pastry into a tube. Brush edge with melted butter; press lightly to seal. Set aside. Continue with remaining pastry and filling. May be frozen at this point for later use.
4. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Bake rolls until golden and crisp, about 40 minutes. Serve hot.
Nutrition information per pastry:
Calories …………. 65 Fat ………… 4 g Saturated fat .. 2.4 g
% calories from fat .. 55 Cholesterol .. 19 mg Sodium …….. 110 mg
Carbohydrates ……. 5 g Protein …… 2.3 g Fiber ………. 0.3 g
