EatingTurkey

Checking the pot, drinking the tea. Two weeks ago, while road tripping in Aegean Turkey, we came upon a family of wedding caterers cooking for a wedding party of 700 in an empty parking lot by the sea. We stopped to have a look, accepted some tea and spoke with the head cater-ess about her work. Hop over to the full post on EatingAsia to learn more.

Şevketi bostan [Shehv-keh-tee boh-stahn], Blessed thistle or golden thistle —one of many, many otlar (wild greens) foraged and eaten in the Aegean region and other parts of Turkey. The thistle’s thick white stem hides a woody interior that is stripped before the whole plant is boiled (for a long time — those pointed leaves are sharp on the tongue!), then used in various meat and non-meat recipes. The flavor? A lovely cross of artichoke and asparagus with a hint of mushroom. Spring in the mouth.

Breakfast: a dough of flour, water and salt rolled paper thin and then thrown roti-style, spread with a beaten egg, herbs and çökelek (crumbly cheese made with whey left over from making yogurt), folded over and griddled till crisp. This breakfast treat, called katmer (Turkey boasts multiple versions of katmer), was amazingly light and greaseless. The generous shaving of salty Tulum cheese took it all up a notch.

Under normal circumstances we’ll always choose savory over sweet, but there’s something about Turkey that turns us into raving sugar hounds. Maybe it’s the fact that you can be wandering around anywhere — a tiny fishing village on the Aegean, for example — and bump into a guy selling something sweet and tasty from the back of a bike, the trunk of his car or, as the case was today, the rear of a bright orange converted school bus. Şambali [shahm-bah-lee] are cakes of semolina, almond flour and milk doused with just enough sugar syrup to hold them together. Their tops and bottoms are scorched and caramelized, sticky and a little crackly-crusty, which makes for a nice contrast to their tender interiors. Our vendor offered his sade (plain - 1.5 TL) or kaymakli (filled with milky clotted cream - 2.5 TL), with or without a sprinkle of cinnamon. We went for full fat, of course, cinnamon sprinkled. Surprisingly light, these were. So even though we’d just finished lunch, we ate two. No regrets.

Road food. Village bread, baked in a tandoor-like oven, strong salty Bergama cheese from Izmir, soft salt-free organic olives, rocket and tomatoes. All purchased this morning at a farmer’s market. A picnic by the water at a harbor on the Aegean. Lunches like this are why we try, whenever possible, to travel by car in Turkey.

In Jan-Feb 2012 we drew a big circle around central Turkey, starting in Kayseri, heading northwest to Cankiri, then east to Tokat and south to Malatya and Kahramanmaras. Last year’s winter was harsh; much of the ground we covered lay under a thick blanket of snow. The landscapes were desolate yet eerily beautiful.

In Sivas temperatures averaged -5 to -10C. The main market, encircled by shops and teahouses but open to the sky, held much promise. But every stall was empty; it was simply too cold to display fresh produce. The only action was in front of dry goods shops, where sellers hovered over their mounds of dried fruit as smoke from coal braziers rose around them. 

In 72 hours we’ll be back in Istanbul, en route to the Aegean and then out east. A classic Galata Bridge shot, with a nohutlu pilav (rice and chickpea pilaf, eaten with chicken) cart in the foreground. Can one ever tire of this view?