The Hungry Turk

Groovy Beans

I guess it’s safe to say that food and music go hand in hand. I mean Smashing Pumpkins must have been quite hungry (and angry) when they thought of the name of their band, right? The list of foodie musicians is long with well known bands like Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Cranberries, Meat Loaf, Cake and so on.

Having said that, naming a band after something as humble as a bean and then make millions of dollars not only requires appetite but also a good amount of guts: The Black Eyed Peas? Uh-huh!

Not many people actually know about black eyed peas (the food) or cook it in Northern USA, Canada or much of Europe. On the other hand I’m pretty sure that as I write these words some Joe Blow in Boonville, Ontario is dancing to the beats of “I Gotta Feeling” from The Black-Eyed Peas (the pop band) like someone who has just been tased.

The black eyed peas have hit stardom in my kitchen, that is for sure. They were my mom’s secret weapon (and still are). Fish? Black eyed peas. Meat? Black eyed peas. Chicken? Black eyed peas. Cheese fondue? Yes, black eyed peas.

Maybe the black eyed peas should not be credited for the success of this multi-award winning salad. Maybe it’s the fool-proof combination of fresh herbs, ripe tomatoes, olive oil and lemon juice. Maybe it’s the bright colours that, no matter what your personal beliefs about beans are, attract your eye and force you to help yourself to a few spoonfuls. I don’t know. Whatever it is, this black eye pea salad is a crowd pleaser each time and the beans' unusual looks provide a nice little change to the usual tabletop scenery.

A must try!

Black Eyed Peas Salad

Serves 8 as a side dish


2 19oz canned black eyed peas, well rinsed
4 ripe Roma tomatoes, diced (alternatively a pint of cherry tomatoes, diced)
3 scallions, finely chopped
½ bunch fresh flat leaf parsley, finely chopped
½ bunch fresh dill, finely chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
About 4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, adjust it according to your taste
Pinch of salt

Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl and give them a good stir. Set aside in the fridge for at least 30 minutes before you serve to give some time for the flavours to mix together and accentuate.

Note: I realise that “real” ripe tomatoes are hard to come by during the winter months. I made this salad over the summer and completely forgot to post it. I apologise for the seasonal inappropriateness of this recipe. You could use cherry tomatoes that are still sweet (hmm I wonder why... could it be because they're shipped all the way from Mexico... sorry).

Pumpkin Challenge - Part 1

In a few days it’s Canadian Thanksgiving, a holiday that traditionally celebrates the end of a bountiful harvest. This day also brings families together around a table honoured by a stuffed turkey, mashed potatoes and loads of pumpkin pie. Over the next ten days The Hungry Turk will participate in the celebrations with two dessert recipes, which will give the good old pumpkin pie a run for its money.

The first recipe is a traditional Turkish one. As a kid, I didn’t have a sweet tooth and wasn’t a huge fan of pumpkin. But I eventually grew up, and my appreciation of this humble vegetable emerged as the years passed. As long as you have a big sharp knife and some muscle power, you will enjoy this recipe more than anything as it doesn’t involve any labouring over a pie crust.

In Turkey, pumpkin is sold fresh, usually by a vendor who stations his cart at a street corner. He cuts, de-seeds and peels the orange monsters so that you don’t have to do it yourself and risk major injury.

Unfortunately for my poor little self, there are no pumpkin vendors at my street corner here in Montreal. I live in the West, remember, and who in these modern days struggles with a whole pumpkin when you can go to the store and buy it in a can!

So I had to resort to my own resources. But to limit the risk of injury and avoid eating pumpkin everyday for the next month, I bought a small, almost miniature, pumpkin (see picture from previous blog entry). I have never seen such small pumpkins in Turkey and I have to admit that I wasn’t quite sure whether they were ornamental or for cooking.

First, with the help of a sharp chef’s knife, I cut the stem off. I then stabbed the pumpkin   from the top with my big knife and worked my way down on one side. I repeated the same procedure for the other side (starting at the same point on the top) and split open my pumpkin. I used a spoon to de-seed the pumpkin and kept the seeds (see note below). I then quartered each half, and cut each quarter in half (ending up with 16 small pumpkin pieces).

The part that I thought was going to be the most difficult to execute turned out to be the easiest: peeling. I’m useless when it comes to peeling vegetables with a knife and almost always resort to the use of a peeler. This time, however, I thought that my peeler couldn’t handle the tough pumpkin skin, so I started off with a knife. After 5 minutes of desperate battle, I decided to try the peeler. And it worked like a wonder!! So my advice: Don’t try to be a hero, use a peeler!

Turkish Style Poached Pumpkin Dessert (Kabak Tatlısı)

Serves 5


1 small pumpkin (about 3 lb), cut, de-seeded and peeled
1 cup sugar
2 cloves   
Squeeze of lemon juice
½ cup crushed walnuts

Transfer the pumpkin pieces in a large pot and cover with sugar. Cover the top and set it  aside for at least 3 hours, until the juices from the pumpkin come out. Add the cloves and a quick squeeze of lemon juice. Turn the heat to medium and simmer, covered, until the pumpkins turn a darker shade of orange and the juice thickens into a syrup, about 30 minutes. Do check the pot frequently to avoid the pumpkins from sticking to the bottom.

Transfer the pumpkins into a serving plate and pour the syrup on top. To finish off, sprinkle with the crushed walnuts.

Note: Don’t waste the pumpkin seeds, they are great in nut mixes or on their own. Separate the seeds them from the pulp, rinse them well and spread on a kitchen towel to dry completely (takes about a 2 hours). Transfer the seeds into a small container, mix in half a teaspoon of vegetable oil and half a teaspoon of salt. Close the container and shake it untill all the seeds are covered with the salt and oil mixture. Pre-heat your over at 250°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment and bake/toast your pumpkin seeds for about 1 hour.

The Most Versatile Potato Salad

There is a reason why potato is the perfect answer to the following absurd job interview question: “If you were to be a vegetable, what would you be?” A potato of course! What else is more versatile? And until like the onion, which also tends to multitask, the potato won’t make anyone at the office cry…

And it gets better. This Most Versatile Potato Salad accompanies pretty much everything from fish to chicken to red meat. It has no mayonnaise in it and once your potatoes are boiled it takes about five minutes to put together. What else do you want?

Oh I should also mention that this is a true Hungry Turk family recipe, so please cherish it, love it and pass it on! I have seen my grandfather make it, I have seen my mom make it and I am looking forward to pass the recipe onto the next generations!

The Most Versatile Potato Salad

Serves 6 as a side

 

5 large yellow-fleshed potatoes

½ bunch fresh Italian parsley, chopped

½ bunch fresh dill, chopped

4 scallions, finely chopped

2 tablespoons paprika (and more according to taste)

Juice of 1 lemon

1/3 cup olive oil

Salt to season

Wash and poke the potatoes a few times. Place them in a large pot of cold salted water and bring to a boil. Cook until the potatoes are tender, about 35 to 40 minutes. While your potatoes are cooking, prepare all your herbs.

Peel the potatoes while still hot. Be careful not to burn yourself but don’t let the potatoes get cold either (do not boil the potatoes peeled). Using a knife, roughly puree the potatoes and add the olive oil. You want “crumbled” potatoes not a silky puree consistency. Mix in the rest of the ingredients. Season with salt and more paprika according to taste and serve lukewarm. The salad is also good served cold.

Note: Be generous with the amounts of herbs you use, they really make the difference.

Ode to Eggplant

Oh Eggplant Eggplant,

Your purple makes me chant.

But why are you so bitter?

Don’t you like my descant?

 

You know I’ve always loved you,

Like a panda chewing bamboo,

So where is all that bitterness coming from?

Did I forget the corkscrew?

 

Is it because I ate all that sauerkraut?

If that’s so please don’t freak out,

Because I will have to lay you down in salt

To make all that bitter dark juice flow out.

 

Isn’t great, isn’t grand?

Don’t you just feel like in a dreamland?

Oh I love you Eggplant,

Even when you are so bland!

Eggplant Salad

Serves 4 to 6 as a side dish

 

4 medium size eggplants

2 large pieces of canned roasted red peppers, rinsed and diced

1 Roma tomato, deseeded and diced

2 garlic cloves, minced

Juice of 1 lemon

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

½ cup Italian parsley, chopped

Poke a few wholes in the eggplants and roast them at 425°F (220°C) in the oven for about 40 minutes, until they collapse. If you can do this on a grill with real fire, it’s even better. Peel the skins off and puree them roughly with the help of a knife. Add the rest of the ingredients and mix well to combine. Serve chilled.

Note: If you have fresh red peppers available where you live roast/grill them as well. Unfortunately for me, the fresh ones are very hard to find in Montreal. That’s why I use the ones that come in jars.

Memories of Summers Past

Sometimes I envy Captain Kirk. Just a few words, “Beam me up, Scotty”, and he’s back in his comfort zone, the USS Enterprise. I do not possess the technology available to Captain Kirk, as a matter of fact not even a plane ticket, but I do have my very own transporter: food!

Last week, I made a dish called batırık, which instantaneously beamed me to Anamur, where I spent most of my summers as a child.

Each morning, after breakfast I would head to the beach to meet my friends. We’d play in the water until either our lips turned purple and our fingertips wrinkled, or I saw my grandmother hanging off her balcony calling me in for lunch. After lunch, I would either help my grandmother with household chores (I loved doing laundry, don't ask why) or take a nap. Besides, you had to be out of your mind to be on the beach or anywhere outdoors between 1pm and 4pm (unless you were a tourist keen to work on that lobster tan).

Around 5pm my grandfather would make his way to the kitchen to prepare tea. No day went by without the 5 o’clock tea. My grandmother would usually fix something to eat, sometimes a cake, sometimes a cheese roll, and sometimes the famed batırık! I always knew that batırık was in the works when I heard my grandfather pounding the walnuts in the brass mortar. The whole front part of the apartment would resonate… bam bam bam!

After teatime I would go out again to play. My friends and I would usually hang out at a playground near the apartment building or cause trouble in its close vicinity. Some days I would head back to the beach with my grandmother around 7pm. By that time the waves would have calmed down and the beach would be pretty much deserted.  A few days a week we would go for a digestive walk after dinner and get the Kahramanmaraş style sticky ice cream. I loved it (and still do). Because of the salep (flour made out of the root of Early Purple Orchid) and mastic used in its preparation, this ice cream is much harder in texture and stickier than the conventional ice cream. The best way to eat it is to bite it. Of course, those with sensitive teeth should not try this at home!

My days in Anamur were pretty monotone… eat, play and sleep. But Anamur was also the place where I was let loose completely and where I was as happy as I could be. Thanks to this low-key coastal town, I had an extended childhood, using the word “play” without hesitation past the age of 12.

Batırık

Batırık is native of the eastern Mediterranean region of Turkey where both my maternal grandparents come from. In Anamur, my grandmother’s hometown, the dish is made with sesame seeds and peanuts, while in Ermenek, where my grandfather is from, walnuts are used instead. My grandparents almost always made it with walnuts but I do have a vague memory of sesame and peanut taste in my head as well. Batırık is more a teatime dish and is especially popular at women’s gatherings. Some people squeeze the water out of it and serve it in bite-sized pieces, but I personally prefer it as almost a soup, served with a few ice cubes, blanched white cabbage and chopped cucumbers. It’s very refreshing and surprisingly filling because of the main ingredient, couscous. The key part in batırık’s preparation is to use a mortar and pestle. I’ve seen some recipes that instruct to use a robot to turn the walnuts (or the sesame seeds and peanuts) into a paste. But this method doesn't let the oil from the nuts to develop and mix into the dish. Also, a lot of people use pepper paste to add a bit of spice and extra colour. I have never seen my grandparents use it, as they were not very keen on heat in food, so I have not used it here. For the extra colour, just use loads of tomatoes.

Serves 6-8 as a teatime snack or 4-6 as a light meal

1 cup medium couscous (called düğürcük in Turkish)

6-8 ripe tomatoes, grated

1 medium onion, grated

1 ½ cup Italian parsley, finely chopped

1 ½ tablespoon mild paprika

1 tablespoon red pepper paste (optional)

2 cups walnuts, lightly roasted and turned into a paste with a mortar and pestle

1 medium white cabbage, roughly chopped and blanched

½ English cucumber, cut into ½ inch pieces

Lemon juice

Mix all the ingredients except the cabbage and cucumber in a large bowl. Combine well (use your hands  to lightly knead it) and set aside for at least 30 minutes. The couscous will absorb the juices from the grated vegetables, swell and soften. Add more paprika if so desired (don’t salt the batırık until it is served individually). Put 4 or 5 spoonfuls in individual serving bowls and add just enough cold water to obtain a very thick soup. Top up with a few ice cubes, and serve with the blanched cabbage, cucumbers and lemon juice as desired.

Growing Pains: Olive Oil

When I got the idea for this post, I pictured rivers of olive oil running throughout Turkey with nymphs bathing in them. After all, not only everyone I knew in Turkey used olive oil for cooking, but our men, the bravest among all men, rubbed it all over themselves before practicing Turkey’s national sport: oil wrestling. 

After some research, however, I discovered that there were neither nymphs nor mystical rivers.

And I guess I didn’t know that many people in Turkey.

All that I was left with were the manly men drenched in olive oil.

According to the Cambridge World History of Food, the domestic cultivation of olive trees started 5,000 to 6,000 years ago on the eastern edge of the Mediterranean basin. Olives quickly gained a reputation as the most productive source of oil and their cultivation spread throughout the region during the Bronze Age. It is also during this period that the island of Crete became the most important center of olive oil production.

During the Iron Age it was the Estruscans who imported olive oil production techniques into Italy, and the Phoenicians transferred their know-how towards North Africa and the Iberian Peninsula. Fast-forward to the Roman Empire, and you could find olive oil in Gaul (France). And thanks to first the Portuguese in the 15^th century and then to the Spanish in the 16^th, olive oil became a global commodity, from India to South America.

What did the Turks do during all this commotion? Zilch!

Now I am going to bore you with some statistics but my economist brain cannot do without them (and besides, they are pretty interesting). According to the latest estimates from the International Olive Oil Council (IOOC), with 5% of world’s olive oil production, Turkey ranks fifth after Syria (Spaniards bring home the trophy with 42% of world’s olive oil production). So Turkey produces olive oil alright.

This is the excruciating part. Turks consume about 3% of world’s olive oil. With Turkey’s relatively large population in mind, this corresponds to a bare 1.2 kg of olive oil per capita. Compare this to the world’s biggest olive oil junkies, the Greeks, who, I don’t know how, “drink” almost 25 kg of the liquid gold per year.

Lamentable!

Considering that Turks are originally from the steppes of Central Asia and that they started settling in Asia Minor (present day Turkey) only at the end of the 11^th century AD, this should not come as a huge surprise. As nomadic peoples, they had to rely on butter and mutton fat for their cooking. This is also why, according to Stephane Yerasimos, olive oil (along with fish) didn’t feature much in the classical Ottoman cuisine.

Influenced by the indigenous Greek and Roman populations, much of Turkey’s present day olive oil tradition is concentrated in the Aegean and Marmara regions (86% of total production). The most renowned type of Turkish olive oil also comes from this region, from the olive groves surrounding the village of Ayvalık. There is some olive oil produced in the Mediterranean region as well, but competition for land from other agricultural products such as citrus fruit and bananas is fierce in this part of Turkey, and the poor olive tree is not given first priority (IOOC report on Turkey).

In western Turkey the group of dishes called zeytinyağlılar constitutes an everyday staple. These are vegetables cooked in olive oil. As they are served cold, they are very refreshing, especially in hot summer days. Also they offer a great alternative to those who have had enough of eating steamed greens. The onions and tomatoes that are at the base of most of these dishes give the good old veggies a more palatable taste. Many vegetables and legumes are cooked in this manner, from fava beans to eggplants. The Hungry Turk aims to feature as many as these dishes as possible. To start off the olive oil saga, here are two dishes that I cook often at home.

 

Zeytinyağlı fasulye (Green beans in olive oil)

Serves 4 as a side (or if you’re my boyfriend serves one as a main dish)

 

500 gr green beans, extremities cut off (In Turkey mostly runner beans are use for this dish, but they are harder to find abroad, especially in North America. If you are using runner beans you should also take off the strings otherwise they will get stuck in your throat).

1 medium size onion, diced

4 ripe tomatoes, diced (Those in North America, use Roma tomatoes. They are meatier and ripen well off the vine.)

1 carrot (optional), diced

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon salt

½ cup hot water

Italian parsley, roughly chopped, to decorate

Heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy-based medium pot. Add the diced onions and cook them until they turn yellowish (do not brown them). Add the carrots, if using, and cook for a few minutes. Add tomatoes and green beans. Pour in the hot water and add the salt. Lower heat to medium-low and cook, with the lid closed, until the beans are tender (but not mushy). Turn off the heat and pour your beans in a ceramic or glass serving dish. Wait until they cool off completely and place the dish in the fridge, covered. Chill for an hour or so. Once chilled, drizzle the remaining tablespoon of olive oil on the beans and decorate with parsley.

Zeytinyağlı kabak (Zucchinis in olive oil)

Serves 4 as a side (the above boyfriend note applies here too)

 

2 or 3 zucchinis, peeled zebra-like and cut into round slices (not too thin)

1 medium size onion, halved and sliced thinly lengthwise

2 cloves of garlic, peeled and cut into quarters

4 ripe tomatoes, diced (Those in North America, use Roma tomatoes. They are meatier and ripen well off the vine.)

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon sugar

½ cup hot water

Dill, roughly chopped, to decorate

Heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy-based medium pot. Add the garlic and cook for a few minutes (pay attention not to brown them). Add the sliced onions and cook them until they turn yellowish. Add tomatoes and zucchinis. Pour in the hot water and add salt and sugar. Lower heat to medium-low and cook, with the lid closed, until the zucchinis are tender (but not mushy). Turn off the heat and pour your zucchinis in a ceramic or glass serving dish. Wait until they cool off completely and place the dish in the fridge, covered. Chill for an hour or so. Once chilled, drizzle the remaining tablespoon of olive oil on the zucchinis and decorate with dill.

Enjoy!

It's Complicated

I love food; there is no doubt about it. And the Turkish cuisine is my temple, the guiding principle to everything I cook. But when it comes to talk about it with non-Turkish people I get all baffled. The question “what’s Turkish cuisine like?” causes short circuit after short circuit in my delicate brain.

There is a Turkish word, however, that sums it all up: “keyif”. Zargan translates it into “pleasure of life”. If you were to visualize it, imagine sitting on a sunny patio in a mid-June afternoon. You’re sipping on a light beer, having home-style potato chips and catching up with your best buddy. That’s keyif, and that’s what the Turkish cuisine tries to recreate over and over again.

Turkey is divided into seven regions (Marmara, Aegean, Mediterranean, Black Sea, Central Anatolia, Eastern Anatolia and Southeastern Anatolia) and there are in total 81 cities. Needless to say, the cuisine varies from region to region, from city to city and well, really from household to household.

In my family a typical dinner table consists of a protein (mostly red meat cooked together with vegetables), a starch (usually rice), one or two vegetarian dishes (either vegetables or legumes cooked in olive oil), a green salad and bread, loads of it! Dessert can consist of a variety of things but fruits are almost always there, not cooked in any way, just as fruits (here grandmothers come in handy in the peeling process).

And that’s just my family. Go to eastern Turkey and meat will weigh more heavily on the table (the famous kebabs; kebabs in an accentuated plural). In the Aegean region, anything that contains olive oil is king. If you decide to visit a “meyhane” in Istanbul (the ultimate Turkish drinking and eating experience: good luck to anyone who tries to remember their name for the rest of the night), you will not only encounter a variety of “mezes” but also all sorts of red meat, fish and the most sought after delicacies: brain, kidney, liver etc. prepared in a variety of ways.

The Turkish palate goes beyond what the West knows as “döner kebab”. It is a pity that a blandly cooked piece of meat served with all sorts of absurd sauces (Hawaiian?!?) should symbolise the historically and geographically rich eating culture of a country of over 70 million  inhabitants. In order to shed more light on the complexities of the Turkish cuisine, the Hungry Turk will have dedicated posts on types of dishes, regional specialties and family traditions.

In the meantime, practice on your “keyif” and take advantage of the beautiful spring weather.