Meat Meat Meat

We tried to end Turkey with a bang. It was time for some meat- some seriously huge chunks of meat that would put us in a bloated coma for the plane ride. The restaurant was in the middle of a fish market; we walked up windy roads wet from the water used to spray the fish. I think we probably smelled of sardines by the time we entered the restaurant. The hotel had made us a very special reservation, but we didn't know what that meant. The waiter took us up the stairs... and then up another flight of stairs... and then another... we just started laughing because the stairs did NOT end. After SEVEN flights, not kidding, we entered a room completely made of windows, looking out over the market and the Bosphorous. The center table had our name on it, and we sat down to a very special meal.

We wanted to save room for the meat, a tactic we hadn't yet tried in Turkey. That meant, sadly, skipping the appetizers. We ordered just a salad. I know, I know, where's our integrity? But we had to, for the sake of our poor bodies.

All the mezes we had to skip...

The food all came with puffy bread, which we loved. It felt so much more ethnic than the toasted baguette that usually comes with the meals.

My dad let me indulge and order Turkish pizza, something I've been wanting to try the whole trip. It's just a flat bread covered in tomatoes, peppers, and minced meat. But when it came, I knew I was in trouble. The meat was barely visible, but the smell made its presence known. I think I've developed a fear of lamb on this trip, and the meat was just a little too reminiscent of the infamous lamb intestines of two days before. The pizza would have been good if I didn't have such a scarred palette.
I didn't know which kabob to order, but the "eggplant kabob" seemed right up my alley, because, duh, it had eggplant. But when it came, I was once again overcome by the lamb smell. Damn, I wish that my food memory allowed to me to try things as if I had never eaten them before!

I started to cut the meat, covering it with eggplant and other veggies, when the waiter literally ran over to me, grabbed the utensils out of my unknowing hands and said "no no, I help." He completely took over- cutting the meat into fine pieces, peeling and smoothing the eggplant, and then adding tomato, peppers, oregano and curry into the fine mixture you see before you. I'm not sure whether he was supposed to arrange this for me, or whether he just jumped at the sight of my ineptness, but either way, this was clearly how it was supposed to be done. I added some onions out of my own preference, and then wrapped the whole concoction in a pita to make a sort of burrito like hunk of Turkish finery. If I liked lamb more, it would have been perfection, but even so, it was enough to make me very full.
I didn't want to order dessert- this meal left me DONE and ready to fly. But when I glanced at the menu, I noticed Kunafe, and I knew I was in trouble. Kunafe is a desset I had loved in Israel- thin crispy noodles baked with a salty cheese inside and covered in honey. I had to have it, no questions asked. I love this dessert because you get the sweet side of the honey and noodles, but the salty cheese makes the whole thing feel not as gross (although the cheese probably makes it just that much worse for you...) It was so worth it. Although not as good as the ones I remember from Israel, which are orange in color and filled with a less-salty cheese, it still lived up to its name. I think it's my favorite dessert in the world.

mmm... gooey cheese innards....

So now that I've left Turkey, here's what I've learned:
1. Turkish people only eat Turkish food, and they don't seem to mind. Our driver to the airport told us that he might eat Chinese food once a year, Italian food 4 times. But mostly it's just Turkish. Turkish all the time.
2. I would get really really fat if I lived here. The excessive amounts of oil and butter that coat everything I ate left me feeling tired every day. I wonder if that's something you can get used to...
3. If there were no eggplant, I wouldn't have eaten a single vegetable for four days. I think that might be my own fault. But still, weren't there supposed to be markets filled with fresh produce? The markets I saw had only nuts, candy and fish.

I like Turkish food, but I wouldn't say it was my favorite. The whole experience of eating here is what gave me the most pleasure- amazing service, trays of choices, unknown sauces and surprise presentations. Still I don't think I would trade a single meal I ate here for anything, except of course those diabolical lamb intestines.

And now off to Ireland...

Sometimes Sweet Is Too Sweet

My stomach hurts. I ate dessert allllllll day. I guess that's my fault, but give me some credit for sacrificing my body for the sake of research.


Before I get to the desserts, I'll just mention the few and far between savory items I ate today. We reverted back to an old classic, shrimp with butter. The shrimp were literally brought in fresh from the fish market next door, I saw it happen before my very eyes. We asked for five shrimp, and then voila! Five shrimp were handed to the waiter from the fish seller's cart 20 feet down the road. Ahh, the perks of living in a country where the people work with their hands.

The shrimp were fresh and tasty, but the real kicker was the dipping sauce. It wasn't just butter this time, but when we asked the waiter what the secret was, he just kept repeating "olive pepper" over and over again. If you know what "olive pepper" means, please let me know. My reasonably astute powers of deduction led to me to believe that the sauce was a mixture of olive oil, butter and some sort of pepper paste or seasoning. Obviously, to come to that conclusion, I had to taste it multiple times, so after the shrimp ran out (ran out sounds more passive than "I ate all of it", doesn't it?) I used the sauce to cover my bread.. my eggplant... my life... It was good. I'm going to try to make it at home using some serious experimental trial and error.

Mystery sauce

Today I also experienced the pervasive Turkish casserole. One was a mixture of shrimp, mushrooms, tomato, and peppers. The second was chicken, eggplant, tomato and peppers. Both were completely covered in melted cheese for a nice chewy gooey feeling. They were sizzling when they arrived, and the cheese just seeped into every morsel. The omeletes I've been eating every morning have used a cheese that doesn't melt well, so it was clumpy and really strong. This cheese just blended.

Once I played a game where you were given two options (say, chips or crackers) and then you had to eliminate one and move the winner on to the next round (say, chips or peanut butter?). I think cheese made it to the final round, where it was eventually trumped by "love". Ok, cheese vs. love, I guess love has the advantage. But still- power to cheese, man.

And now on to the dessert portion of this evening's presentation. But first something interesting I learned while we went golfing yesterday. In Turkey, the candy business consists of four categories: chocolate, candy, gum and the Ramadan season. Apparently, the three days after the end of Ramadan are the highest selling days for sweets in the whole country. Everyone has been missing their desserts, and so everyone gives them to each other as gifts. The companies spend months preparing their inventory, shipping to the stores, storing the merchandise and advertising, all in preparation for those three days.

Anyway, Turkish deserts, to the best of my knowledge, are founded on honey and nuts. I tried to venture beyond that, but when it really got down to it, those ingredients were everywhere and the actual best. My dad, whos not into the whole baklava scene, ordered a safe cheesecake-like thing with cherries on top, but the center had a coffee filling (cheesecake, coffee, and cherries? I don't think so.) Not a huge hit.

I also tried to stay away from the classics, just for the sake of adventure. I tried this pudding thing, which I think might be called "muhallebi". It had no taste, a gross thick gloppy texture, and just wasn't worth it. I had two bites and moved on.

Then I tried the sweet bread with honey and cream. The cream was the same cream as was in last night's apricots, this thick condensed heavy cream that makes you feel at least a hundred pounds heavier after every bite. The crew team is going to fire me when I get back to school, or at least heavily restrict my diet, I'm telling you. This dessert was good, but I couldn't eat more than a few bites because honey started crawling through my veins, slowing down my system, and leaking out of every one of my pores. Was that too much? I'm trying to convey the intensity of the honey. I'm still sticky.

And now the moment you've all been waiting for, the baklava. Baklava seems to come in two flavors, walnut or pistachio, and then beyond that the differences between each kind relies on size, shape and amount of dough. I tried four different kinds and decided I like the walnut ones, heavy on the dough. Baklava is a really good dessert, especially as a topper to a meal because they're not too big or too heavy. But it's easy to get carried away: they come on huge trays and each bite goes by too quickly, so it's temping to order a hundred. Especially because you can eat them anyway you want. In bites. In sections. Top down. Across. Upside down. On your head. On the road. With a fork. GO CRAZY, MAN, ITS BAKLAVA. You have to play with the cultural staples, otherwise they'd just get boring.

Ohhhh the joy of a crumbly inside and honey coated fingers

And now, if I never eat dessert again, that's all right with me.

So here's what I don't understand about Turkish food. I've been here for three days and I'm already sort of sensing a pattern. The food is all the same everywhere. Restaurants on any given strip all serve the same thing, and even the different foods all consist of the same ingredients. The next time I overdose on butter, oil, nuts, or honey, it will still be too soon. How do these people not get bored? Where are their extensive take out menus from every ethnicity? Don't they want something thats not a kebab every once in a while?

I've already had enough Turkish food. At least until tomorrow.

Korfez Surprises

I think I had the best meal of my life tonight.

It started out sketchily. Our restaurant, Korfez, had been recommended to us by the general manager of the hotel, but our trust of him was being put to the test. The restaurant is on the Asian side of Istanbul, across the Bosporus river. We had to take a boat to the restaurant, but when our cab dropped us at the port, there was NOTHING in sight. We stood on a deserted dock for about twenty five minutes with only faith and rumbling stomachs to root us. Finally, the ferry (aptly called the “Korfez”) chugged its way to the dock, and we took a beautiful (but bumpy) little ride across the river onto the dock of the restaurant.

The restaurant was tiny- probably only ten tables inside- but in the summer it opens up to let people sit on the dock. I can imagine that being incredible. But the inside was nice too, overlooking the river and decorated with wood so that it almost felt like we were on a ship. The waiter quickly arrived with the tray of possible mezes. If I had known how good the food would be, I could have skipped the mezes, but I enjoyed them just the same.

We ordered three: two eggplant (spicy and non, just like yesterday) and a carrot salad. The carrots were good, mixed with yogurt and garlic and walnuts, so it was a nice mixture of crunch and smooth. The whole course came with interesting bread too, soft rolls filled with tomato or olive concoction. Dipping in olive oil and mixing was key.

We then ordered three hot appetizers. These set the tone for the rest of the meal and were excellent. First were two shrimp dishes. Each one was extravagant: 30 dollars for ONE piece of shrimp. The first was called “Shrimp 2003” (whatever that means), and was one huge shrimp, covered in sweet and sour sauce (with, I think, some curry or something spicy…), placed on top of noodles, brussel sprouts and onions, and covered in chives. It was Asian goodness in the middle of Turkey. I haven’t noticed any ethnic restaurants since I’ve been here, so I’m sure this is a treat for the locals. The second was “shrimp and avocado”, which was a similar idea: one big piece of shrimp in chili sauce (although I thought it was pineapple teriyaki) and then garnished with tiny pieces of avocado. They were both surprising. We licked the plates clean because even the sauces were so good, but also because for a 30 dollar piece of shrimp you want to get your money’s worth. We did. We also got a salmon cake with red pepper mayonnaise, which was nothing special compared to the flavorful tang of the first two dishes, but still solid nonetheless.

shrimp 2003!

mmm... thick shrimp with bits of avocado

(we're so lazy... again the waiter has to help us...)

When we were told about the restaurant, we were told that the specialty was “bass baked in salt”. Doesn’t sound like anything too special, does it? We ordered it for the sake of reputation, but really, after the shrimp, I wasn’t expecting much. Then all of a sudden, the waiter brought out a bottle of Courvoisier, a sledge hammer, and a chisel. We had NO IDEA what those could be for. What was I about to get myself into?

Then this HUGE metal platter was brought out, completely filled with a hard white substance. I realized this was… salt. EW! I don’t want to eat THAT MUCH salt! He doused the salt in the Courvoisier and then BAM, set the whole thing on fire. WHAT IS GOING ON??? I looked at my dad, “did you know this was going to happen?”, I asked him. He shook his head in shock. When the fire died down, the chisel came out and lo and behold, underneath this caked salt was a piece of fish! The waiter chipped away at the salt, uncovering the fish, set the whole thing on fire again, and then was ready. Right before our eyes, he skinned it, boned it, served it, cleared it. Then it was gone, like the whole thing had never happened.

It was… insane.

I took a lot of pictures because I was in shock.

The confusion begins

FIRE!

chipping away...

He came back out to serve the rest of the meal. It included the fish, an assortment of veggies, spinach, and rosti potatoes. Rosti potatoes are some of my favorites, they’re like upscale hash browns with onions and butter. Then the fish was sprinkled (well, really, it was covered…) in a butter soy sauce mixture.






I would now like to spend a paragraph devoted to the main ingredient of tonight’s adventure: Butter. Butter was in everything, we basically were just eating some food with our butter. My dad had to give up on the spinach after a few bites because of the butter content, but I loved it. It was salty, it was sweet, it was the center, it was a complement. Bravo, butter, you’re making me fat and I’m loving every morsel.

The fish was delectable, maybe the best fish I’ve ever had. It was soft and covered in butter, but it was also light and just the right amount of filling. I knew it was good because I wanted to keep it alone on my fork, whereas I usually like to eat my fish in the same bite as veggies or potatoes. But the taste was the best on its own, which is rare and a pretty high compliment.

I was full after all this, but not exploding, just happy. I was ready to stop but the waiter asked us if we wanted to move by the window for dessert. Sweets and a view, who can resist? We ordered two. The first was my dad’s indulgence: apricots filled with cream. The cream was more like cream cheese than the Boston cream as I had expected, and although it was good, I was way into the other dessert. It was called “Cup Korfez” and the menu description said: “diced fig, baked bread, and apricots mixed together with heavy cream, served over vanilla ice cream and topped with hot chocolate sauce.” DOESN’T THAT SOUND GREAT? And I don’t even like ice cream! Every spoonful was different depending on what corner you scooped, but each one was equally tasty. The apricots and figs in this country are so much better than any I’ve tasted before, and adding chocolate sauce to anything is just… divine.

Cup Korfez... mmmm...

We left the restaurant raving. It was more than just the food, the whole experience of surprise and anticipation made the night so memorable. But the food was also-- just-- so-- good. We drove back towards town, but stopped off for a night cap at Ali Baba VIP nargila café, for some apple nargila, backgammon and Turkish tea. It was the perfect ending.

Oh, Turkey, why are you so good to me?

Dinner time in Istanbul

We had wanted something special, so we looked for a restaurant which would specialize in something "Turkish". We found Cumhuriyet, a local dive known for serving heaps of mezes (the array of possible appetizers) and fresh seafood to a background of traditional Fasil music. When we arrived, there was no music to be found, but the roar of the locals happily chomping away was music enough.





The restaurant was packed, and the waiters had to maneuver around long wooden tables that could fit probably thirty people down the line. Not only that, but these wily waiters are always carrying a big tray of food- the samples of the possible mezes. We ended up choosing four and then adding a fifth for the sake of gluttony: the traditional yogurt sauce, big ol' beans, broccoli, and two eggplant dishes.
The eggplants were the clear hits. First, there was one basking in tomato sauce, which we assumed would be the best. But the other one, just some smoked eggplant salad, was surprisingly great. It wasn't flavored at all, but the eggplant spoke for itself. I think the aubergine superiority in Turkey derives from the texture: literally silky smooth. The eggplant just glides down, barely having to chew it all. That sounds grosser than it is. It's great. The yogurt was also good, once I got over the feeling of having a dairy farm in my mouth. That's what it tasted like, straight up yogurt, the most dairy-y thing I have ever tasted. But soon I found myself dipping everything in the yogurt without even noticing. That's the key to mezes: combination.





Then we ordered shrimp, my first shrimp in over two years. The shrimp were scary at first, with shells still on and their eyes looking at me, but the inside was thick and not too chewy and just delicious. It came with this crazy sauce that we could NOT figure out what it was. (I also dipped them in the yogurt a few times.) On our final bite, I looked up at my dad and said, "do you think it's just... butter?" And it was. It was just a vat of grilled butter. Once we realized we just laughed so hard at the though of our arteries closing, but revelled in the sheer joy of fatty fatty fatty butter on everything.





Our main course was sea bass and durado, two white fishes. The stressful de-boning process was averted by a touristy maneuver of asking the waitor to do it for us. The sea bass was meatier than the durado, which I covered in lemon juice and onions, sacrificing my breath for taste. They were both good, but we were too full to finish them.


The food was wonderful. Even though it was the most expensive item we ordered, even my dad admitted that the shrimp had been the highlight. But the whole experience of the restaurant was the most memorable part of the night. The locals were laughing, drinking their Raki (the typical Turkish alcohol, which I had to avoid because I HATE licorice...) and crashing into each other because of the confined quarters. But we weren't squished, and we ended up making friends with the people at the next table over. There was also a cat outside which kept me company throughout the entire meal, probably hoping for some artery clogging shrimp too. If you're ever in Turkey, I HIGHLY recommend Cumhuriyet.

ISTANBUL, TURKEY! Eating on the street and in the markets

I didn't really know what to expect from the food in Turkey, I guess. I kept talking about "eggplant", but without a clear image of what that meant, just knowing that I like eggplant and wanted to have some. I knew I was going to eat, but I did not know how much or how often. But as my first day in Istanbul is about to come to its close, I sit here exploding from my pants, covering my stomach with a new red pashmina I bargained for in the bazaar. I ate well today, let me tell you.

It all started on the streets. We passed a little shop that said "borek" on the window, and I freaked out, making the immediate connection that a borek must be the Turkish version of "borekas", a filo dough pastry stuffed with yummy (usually cheese) that I ate all the time in Israel last year. These boreks only came in two flavors- cheese or plain- unless you opted for the more adventurous ones that looked like long canoes of baguette filled with egg or meat. The boreks were made on huge pans and then cut with a terrifying looking knife into little pieces to accentuate the filo-doughy-goodness.

I opted for the cheese filled ones, which the man kept referring to as "macaroni, macaroni". The cheese was way too salty for my taste, and hopefully for anyone’s taste because if you like salt that much, you'd probably be dehydrated a lot. After a lot of photo taking, we left and I tried so hard to throw away the leftovers, but this country just does NOT have trash cans, so as I searched for one, I clearly started nibbling at the bread part. The dough was great, and debatably not cooked all the way, so by the time I found a trash can, I was left with a pile of cheese, no more dough, and greasy hands. Worth it.

As we kept walking, the meat started appearing. Meat is… everywhere. It’s usually on the big rotating spits that fire the chicken or lamb until its ready to be sheared off, cooked on the grill for only moments, and then lovingly tucked into pitas with all the toppings you can fit in your pocket (and your mouth). Usually, the toppings include sauces (spicy or yogurt), salads (cucumber and tomato) and the extras (onions, french fries, and my favorite: eggplant.) I tasted a few as I walked and they were great. But then I came across a different looking one, where the lamb had been cut into tube shapes and was only being seasoned by a little curry.

So here I figure, logically, that a sandwich with only the lamb and no extras must have some meat-bragging-rights. The men were excited to let me taste, and even placed the meat straight into my mouth (a little forward, but hey, I went with it…) and then… AHH! LITERALLY THE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFE. I had to spit it out, and I NEVER spit out my food. I think.. I really think… that I ate lamb intestines. I think this because I have never had more chewy-raw-gross-ribbed like thing in my mouth before. I literally was just eating straight up lamb muscle, and not in a good way. I honestly might never eat lamb ever again.

(I didn't know yet...)

After chugging a bottle of water and a lot of complaining, we entered the spice market. Here I am in my prime: a land of samples. I started with the Turkish delights: usually nuts completely submerged in chewy sugar, and then cut off with these massive scissors. I tried the pistachio flavor, it was great.

Then we came to my dad’s domain. He lives for nuts and apricots. A connoisseur, if you will. He was in the mood for peanuts, so we sampled a lot but this store was our favorite. The peanuts came salted, unsalted, covered in a bread shell, covered in a flavored bread shell, or sprinkled with sesame seeds. He bought a bag of regular unsalted, I illegally sneaked three handfuls of the sesame kind.

But the dried apricots were the true winners. Actually the best apricots we have ever tasted. There were the orange ones that I’m used to eating in the states, and ones that were a little more brown. I was skeptical. But once I took a bite, I was easily convinced that Turkish apricots live up to their reputation. Instead of being dried on the inside, they oozed apricot goo that reminded me of what I was eating. Oh, I get it, dried APRICOTS, this used to be an apricot. Duh. They were amazing. We didn’t buy them because the deal-hungry man my father is compelled him to “check the prices” at the other shops before committing to this one, but we didn’t find any that lived up to our initial taste, so we’re going back tomorrow without a doubt. I mean, we were talking about them all day for goodness sake.

(can you see the goo?)

Finally, we decided it was time for a real meal. We left the spice market and walked uphill to the Grand Bazaar, where we found a hole-in-the-wall parallel to the main trafficked shopping area. I wasn’t even close to hungry, but sucked it up and ordered some… eggplant.

We ordered three dishes: first, the eggplant “gazcha”, which is basically eggplant and peppers in a spicy sauce. Deceptively spicy, I might add, because the spice comes as an aftertaste only, which I realized about thirty seconds after a pretty hefty bite. We got used to it though, and clearly licked the plate clean. Then of course, chicken kabob, which was perfectly cooked and served with pita and rice. Just lightly seasoned, nothing fancy. And we also had some “chicken, French fries, mushrooms and onion” thing, which I would actually have called “Oil with some other stuff”. It might have been all oil, but it was still really good, and a nice offset to the spicy eggplant. The whole thing was served with a heaping pile of bread, more bread than anyone could ever consume, no matter how much they like bread.

Finally, as we were leaving, full and needing to pee more than anything, I smelled something burning. I had no idea what this could be, but as I turned the corner, I realized that it was burning… coffee. A long line of people stretched the aisle waiting for their coffee beans. Makes sense I guess, Turkish coffee is famous and everyone needs their caffeine. I didn’t try any because I just didn’t want any, but it was a worthwhile site to be sure.

The whole afternoon in the market was a whirlwind. Food was everywhere- even the shop keepers were getting door to door delivery service from restaurants which deliver by holding trays of food far above their heads and pushing their way through the crowds. I wanted all of it, but my poor full body wanted none of it. It’s ok though, my tongue was happy.