...Turkey (Part 4 - In Praise of Sweet Things)

Baklava, a common sight all over Turkey

Gaziantep may mean little or nothing to anyone outside Turkey (and Hackney). However, to the Turks it means one thing. The best Baklava in the world. And so in the name of ‘research’ we dragged ourselves kicking and screaming to a city that is home to over 180 pastry shops. All for you dear reader. All for you.

So with that many pastry shops, how does one choose a good one? We headed straight to Gulluoglu, a huge chain that even has a shop in Hackney. But apparently there is one branch that is head and shoulders above the rest. A small, nondescript place in the heart of the bazaar which sells only baklava. You can't even get a cup of tea dammit!



Try walking past without going in...

It seemed perfectly normal for people to order themselves five or six pieces (for the record, Finn and I shared five). Baklava comes in many forms but essentially consists of layers of buttery pastry and crushed pistachios, all drenched in honey or syrup. Trays upon trays of the little devils sit in the windows of pastry shops taunting you until you give in. I have eaten a lot of baklava in my time but this has to be the best. They say the Gaziantep stuff is so good because they grow the best pistachios and have the best honey. Whatever it is, it works.

On the subject of sweet things, I mustn’t forget kunefe. We first ate kunefe in Antakya, a city who's cuisine is heavily influenced by Syrian cooking due its close proximity to the border. It is in this city that we were kidnapped by an English teacher and taken to 'teach' her students (read about it on Finn's blog!). Anyway, back to kunefe! It is a little slice of culinary genius. But only a little slice mind. Too much would definitely result in a heart attack. It basically consists of a piece of cheese, not that dissimilar to mozzarella. This is coated in a thin kind of vermicelli which is made on hot wheels in the bazaar. 

Making Kunefe

The whole thing is drenched in sugar syrup, topped with nuts and served warm. Et voila. A heart attack on a plate.

Nothing better than a piece of kunefe in the sun

In the holy city of Sanliurfa, we were kidnapped by a friendly man we bumped into somewhere in the depths of the sprawling bazaar. He offered us tea and took us along the dark twisting alleyways until suddenly we came out into bright sunlight. We had entered an old caravansari, a place where silk road travellers would stop for the night. We sat in the courtyard and drank tea, talked international politics and ate kunefe to the sound of old, head-scarfed Arabs throwing dominoes down on the small tea tables. And suddenly, we felt very far from home.

Finn, new friend and kunefe in the caravansari

...Turkey (Part 3 - Home-cooked Food)



Whirlıng Dervishes in Konya

 Konya is the home of Sufism (a mystical branch of Islam), whirling dervishes and most importantly, Finn's ex-student Emine and her family who let us into their home for a truly unforgettable experience.

Emine had emailed us to tell us to 'come hungry' and so we did. At least we thought we did but their idea of hungry seemed to vastly differ to ours (there's a first) and when we arrived, Emine's mother had laid on a feast for us. The first of many. We ate stuffed aubergine, pilav (rice with chickpeas), dolma and fried cauliflower. And lots more. Meals were spent with the five of us - us, Emine, her mother and brother and sister - sat on the floor around a small table, our laps covered with a large cloth to catch the crumbs.




A feast! The first of many...

 Eating with the family was a communal event and we took bits of whatever we fancied whenever and then filled up on endless cups of tea. At the ninth cup, I declined but Emine's mother was having none of it. It was cold outside and tea would keep me warm. So I drank three more cups. That evening, and every other evening we were there, Emine's mother came out with big bowls of fruit and carrots with knives and vegetable peelers, along with bowls of seeds, nuts and popcorn. Because clearly we hadn't eaten enough already.

We woke the next day to busy sounds in the kitchen and I was ushered in and given a front row seat next to Neslihan, Emine's little sister who was on dictionary duties. I was there to watch their mother prepare her special couscous.


Emine's mother making her special couscous

 With Neslihan's help to translate ingredients, I slowly got a vague recipe. Ingredients included pomegranate molasses (a staple of Turkish cooking), a spicy paste and lemon juice. Rolled into sausage shapes, we ate them wrapped in lettuce leaves for breakfast, once again astonished by Emine's mother's culinary skills. And the amount of food she thought we could eat. We were set up for a fantastic day exploring Konya, and even skipped lunch which is a first of the trip! Cold, hungry and tired, we returned to another amazing meal largely consisting of rice layered with meat and vegetables which we all dug into with spoons.

Emine and a demolished rice cake

 Refuelled, we ventured back out into the cold to watch a performance of whirling dervishes, an incredible and moving experience (if you are interested, Finn has more on it in his blog: tothecaravanserai.blogspot.com). On our return, the bowls of fruit and nuts made a very welcome appearance.

Walking around where they lived, I discovered that neighbourhoods have their own tandoor, a place where people take their dough to be cooked. A small hut is placed over a whole in the ground which is filled with hot coals. The dough is flattened and slapped onto the sides of the tandir and you return later to collect your fresh, hot breads.

A neighbourhood tandir

We debated whether this would work in London but I pointed out that making the dough is the difficult bit and no one could be bothered! Enter the firin. This is the opposite idea to the tandir. Emine's mother was making us etli ekmek, a local dish basically like a pizza with a dough base but with meat, tomato and herbs on top. Emine's mum had made the meat topping and we took it to the firin where they supplied the dough bases, slapped on the topping and cooked it in a stone oven with hot coals in.

Working the firin - from right to left: person who puts the topping on the bread, person who cooks the bread and person who chops it up.

We then debated whether that would work in London but came to the conclusion that you'd probably just go to a pizzeria instead. Never mind.

That evening we picked up the etli ekmek and took it to Emine's great aunt and uncle's house. Again, we sat on the floor eating the pizza along with small jacket potatoes straight from the stove and fresh borek. Our Turkish is very limited (although from this experience we have added words for 'I am full' and 'delicious' to our vocabularies) but eating with the family enabled us to live like them and experience Turkish hospitality. We also learnt how food can replace language when a common language doesn't exist and the importance of dining together and sharing food. We left promising to return one day. There is a lot that we have taken away from this experience. Including a massive bag of olives, etli ekmek and borek that should keep us going for a while...

Us with our Turkish family. And the bowls of fruit.

...Turkey (Part 2 - The Staples)

Having stopped in Kas, southern Turkey, we 're-anglisized' our taste buds at the home of my auntie and uncle. After a swim in the turquoise sea, we sat in a cafe on the beach, eating homemade chips and drinking lovely cold Turkish beer. A definite highlight of the trip.

Our little stop made me reflect on our Turkish culinary adventure so far and I decided that this would be an ideal opportunity to wax lyrical about Turkish staples (although the word 'staples' does not do them justice).

First up is the mighty Turkish breakfast. It's almost unheard of for a hotel not to provide breakfast and regardless of the size of establishment, the first meal of the day is an absolute feast. You can expect Turkish cheese, olives, tomato, cucumber, boiled eggs, fruit, honey and tonnes of fresh bread as well as tea, coffee and 'juice' (squash). Extras might include an omelet, yogurt with bowls of sweet jams and slices of dubious looking sausage. An exciting addition to our breakfast recently was feta crumbled up with syrupy blackberries. The Turkish take breakfast very seriously and we feel it only polite to indulge them (and ourselves).

This morniıng we ventured out for breakfast and ended up in a cafe around the corner. Here we had chewy Turkish bread wıth the most amazing honey and fresh cream. What better way to start the day? My god it was good!

Worth dragging yourself out of bed for...

Something else that is taken seriously is travelling by bus. Although perfectly comfortable, cheaper and often quicker, few people choose to travel by train. In Turkey, it's all about the bus. Travelling by bus is like taking a plane. Each bus has an attendant who, when not showering you with lemon cologne to make you smell of jif, brings you drinks and snacks. Having used a variety of companies for different journeys I have found the service to differ in the details and yet always be pretty special. One company stands out in particular. Where you are usually given a cake in a packet, this attendant allowed you to rummage around in a box and take what you like. Sitting near the back of the bus, I watched as hands dipped in the box as the trolley slowly made its way down the aisle. And I started to break out in a cold sweat. What if all the good stuff had gone by the time he reached us? WHAT IF HE RAN OUT?! Shedding my Englishness, as soon as the box was within reach of my sweaty little hands I grabbed the last chocolate biscuits and made a mental note to ask for seats nearer the front next time. On a different journey, I was delighted to find the only options were orange fizzy pop and a slice of cake thus making me feel like I was at a kid's birthday party and giving me the sugar rush to go with it. Not as much fun when you're the wrong side of 30 and at the beginning of a 4 hour bus journey.

How to keep the customers happy on a long old journey

Finally, a word on tea. Tea is drunk sweet and bitter in a small glass. On previous visits to Turkey I could never cope with the bitterness. However, this time I have been converted mainly because I have a)taught myself not to think of it as 'tea' and b) started adding at least two lumps of sugar. Of course, I still dig in to my supply of earl grey whenever we are near a kettle and for the last few days I've been back on the English tea. The purchase of a scarily efficient Turkish coffee kettle means that we can get hot water in less than 1 minute which should keep me going. But I have to admit, I'm beginning to crave a cup of the bitter/sweet hot stuff... Oh and here is an old man wandering around the internet cafe selling tea! What perfect timing! Well, if you insist...

Finn and tea seller in Antalya. He wouldn't stop giving us the stuff

...Turkey (Part 1 - The Weird and the Wonderful)

A snowy Istanbul

And so we have entered Turkey, bracing ourselves for a month of eating some of the finest food in the world. There is much to talk about but I will try to stay focused and only tell you what you need to know. That's why this entry will focus on the 'wierd and wonderful' that we've experienced so far.

Our third visit to Istanbul has involved visiting some 'old haunts' although that makes us sound a bit pretentious. Really, we are creatures of habit. First stop for Finn was a freshly grilled fish sandwich by the Bosporus while I enjoyed the cup of pickles in turnip juice you buy to compliment it.

The Istanbul fish sandwich. Finn used many fish puns to describe it but sadly, I can only remember one. 'Defishious'.

Our second 'old haunt' to visit was an unassuming kebab shop in the grand bazaar. We sat on stools in the alleyway watching the snow fall to the sound of merchants loudly battling over the price of silver. We ordered our kebabs, pieces of meat with tomato and lettuce all rolled up in thick flat breads. In front of us, on a long bench, were dishes laden with parsley, salty gherkın and green peppers blackened on the grill. You pile what you want on your 'plate' (a bit of plastic bag) and alternate your bites of kebab wıth the loveliness from the dishes. And that's it. No sauces, no spices. Just fresh, flavoursome ingredients. And that is why, in my humble opinion, Turkish food is among the best in the world.

The best kebab in the world ever. So far...

We spent two evenings in 'mayhenes', Turkish taverns where you order mezze and drink raki for as long as you like. These are great if like us, you are a bit fed up with eating meat everyday. We managed to have a vegetarian meal in one. And I ate a little too much dolma as it's one of my favourites.

Dolma. It basically means 'stuffed'. I was 'dolmad' after eating six of them.

We whiled away a very pleasant evening in a mayhene with Melda, an old student of mine and her boyfriend Boric.

Melda, Finn and Boric

They wanted to show us a real Friday night in Istanbul. However, due to the weather many Istanbulus had decided to stay at home so it was pretty dead (but we still had a great time!). At about 1.30am, Melda announced that she needed a, and I quote, 'wet burger'. I had no idea what she was on about. A wet burger?! But it turns out you don't have to stretch your imagination too far. At the front of many kebab stalls, there are glass boxes misted up with condensation. Inside are burgers with tomato sauce in their buns all soggy from the moisture being pumped into the box. And there you have it. A wet burger, is a burger that is wet. And although it has to be the oddest thing we have come across so far on this trip (and dare I say it, any trıp), it was surprisingly tasty. But also very, very wrong. It turns out that many Istanbulus eat them after a night out and therefore they are their equivalent to our end of night kebab.

A box of wet burgers. Never thought I would type those words.

After 5 days in Istanbul, we headed south to a large yet quiet city called Bursa, only just avoiding the snow which was about to grind Istanbul to a halt. Bursa has one big claim to fame in Turkey and that's its Iskender kebab. There is some dispute over the origins of the kebab and two restaurants claim to be the first to sell it. We went to the closest one, a small wooden restaurant that looked like something from the 1920s. Very basic decor and waiters in aprons and ties. There was only one thing on the menu and it was being devoured by hungry Turkish women around us. We ordered one to share. So what's so special about a kebab? A kebab is a kebab like a wet burger is a wet burger. Yes, that's what I thought to. But then I tried one...

The Iskender kebab. A heart attack on a plate.

It's not the prettiest looking dish in the world but then neither is chips and battered sausage if you think about it. A chopped up flat bread lies on the bottom, smothered in a rich tomato sauce. On top of this is a pile of lamb and you have yogurt, tomato and pepper on the side. Then the really strange thing happens. A waiter comes round with a saucepan of boiling butter and tips it over the meat. The whole thing is utterly delicious and well worthy of its fame. However, how those women were gobbling up a whole plate on their own I will never know. Half was definitely enough.

At the bus station to our next destination, we managed to squeeze in the other delicacy of Bursa, candied chestnuts. The more you eat, the better they taste. But they're still a bit weird.

Candied chestnuts. Interesting.

...Greece

Here is possibly the worst photo of the Acropolis in Athens. The timer is obviously longer than we thought. I look like a mum doing a parents race on sports day.

Ah wonderful Greece. Economic decline, schmeconomic decline. It's an amazıng place. We quickly blended in by making sure we smashed our dinner plates after every meal. Gets a bit messy when you haven't finished your moussaka ... But enough of this. What on earth have we eaten?

Ermm, more meat. I estimate that the amount of chicken I've eaten in the course of three weeks could equate to about five whole ones. I'm considering supplementing my diet with steroids, greasing up my limbs and entering myself for miss universe. Here is what was supposed to be a light lunch in Athens.

Salad. With meat, chips and bread.

An open kebab. Thankfully they gave me a doggy bag. After Finn had finished his, he announced that one kebab would've done us both. And yet I couldn't help noticing his plate had been licked clean.

Although readily available in Greece, we've been off the borek and on simit, a ring of tough or crunchy bread which is usually eaten for breakfast. A healthy alternative to borek but luckily I found an unhealthy version, one filled with chocolate.

If you eat too much simit, your head will become a giant simit. Let that be a lesson to you.

Athens is an amazing city and had many of the things we love about London. On our first day we headed to a bustling fruit and veg market where you could buy a kilo of oranges for 60p. If we'd had a kitchen, we would've stocked up on the amazing looking vegetables.

Veggies in an Athen's market

All this looking at food was making us hungry. We were rewarded for fighting through crowds of dithering old ladies who had no sense of space and who should have had a licence to steer a shopping trolley with a happy man and a grill at the end of the gauntlet (bizarrely all to a sound track of 'Lady in Red'). We settled ourselves down on some steps opposite his stall to devour the massive smokey sausage baguettes he'd just made us. The next thing we knew, he was running across the street with two cups of sweet white wine for us. And we both fell a little bit in love with Athens.

Sausage baguette man. Light at the end of a tunnel of old ladies

The mother of all sandwiches

After a poke about in Athens, we headed to Thessaloniki, a vibrant city in the east and convenient place to break up the journey to Istanbul. On our last day I mentioned to Finn that although I'd enjoyed our Greek food experience, I felt I hadn't had 'the meal'. The Greek gods heard and sent us to Mangio on the waterfront and the utterly charming Constadinos, our waiter and an ex-professional basketball player.

Our lovely waiter

He ensured we had some of the best food we've tasted. There was too much to mention but the highlights for me where the fried aubergine balls...

A plate of loveliness

...and a Crete speciality of melted feta which was so good, I made sure I got the recipe. So here you are:

Take a block of feta and break it up into pieces in a small ovenproof dish. Scatter one chopped tomato and a chopped mild green chili over the cheese. Cover with slices of a stringier cheese (I think mozzarella would work well) and put in the oven for about 5 minutes on a medium temperature or until it's all melted. When it's done, drizzle a generous amount of olive oil over it and sprinkle dried oregano. This is what it should look like.

Utterly delicious fetariness

But it's all about the taste so if it tastes amazing but doesn't look anything like this, don't worry.

On to Istanbul and time to visit some 'old favourites' including the best kebab in the world ever.

...a castle in Albania

I have been unable to upload photos for my next two entries and as I feel they are more interesting than what I'm writing, will wait until I have the facilities! In the meantime, here's a smug video of Finn showing you a burek in Albania. Enjoy!