Turkish Muse

The Wednesday Chef’s Ragù alla Bolognese

I’m a rather new follower to Luisa Weiss’s blog, The Wednesday Chef, but I’m likely no less an ardent reader than many of her long-time fans. When her book, My Berlin Kitchen, came out this fall, and I happened to be visiting the US, I placed an order for it, even though it was still in hardcover, and waited until I was back home in Turkey to crack the first page.

I didn’t wait long though and thank goodness. From the moment I started reading, I couldn’t stop, and I blew through my jet lag by reading the entire book the first weekend I was home. The simple earnestness of the writing, the lyricism, the push and pull of various cultures and people and food; it all rang true to me. Her book, much like her blog, felt a little bit like home.

I inserted little sticky notes on every recipe I wanted to try, but after reading the book, put it on the shelf in the kitchen with all the other cookbooks and went about living my life, almost, but not quite, forgetting about the ragù that first arrested my interest when I read it.

The list of ingredients seemed deceptively simple: 1 kilo of meat, an onion, a couple of carrots, a bit of red wine, tomatoes and salt. How could those humble ingredients make such a compelling sauce, one that carried Luisa through some of her most difficult moments?

I’d had that ragù in the back of my mind for weeks, and only one thing kept me from making it right away: Luisa recommends simmering the sauce for a full seven hours. I didn’t think I had the time, or the concentration, or the discipline, really, to commit a full seven hours to a meat sauce.

But lately I’ve been feeling flighty, a bit anxious, and I needed something to ground me, something to make me feel and embrace the place and space I’m in. The sauce, I decided, was perfect for a Saturday, when I could slow down a bit, commit to this project, and dedicate my day to the creation of something fulfilling.

So yesterday morning I set about slowly chopping an onion, then a couple of carrots. I sautéed the onion in olive oil and butter, then added the carrots. The meat came next -- all beef, as I had no access to pork -- and I used a wooden spoon to break it up, dividing it into small pieces, as small as the finely diced onion and carrots. I added half a cup of red wine, then the pureed tomatoes and salt.

And then I lowered the heat and put on the lid. Seven hours to go and counting.

I went about my day, doing laundry, watching the news, tidying up the living room, playing with the cats. But instead of rushing from one task to the next, in a flurry of indecision as to what I wanted to do, I felt the pull of the slowly simmering sauce telling me to take a breath, to savor the day, to really participate.

After the seven hours were up, the house smelled simply heavenly, and the sauce quivered in the pot, ready to be spooned over a fresh pot of penne pasta. We poured some red wine, sat at the table and enjoyed.

Ragù alla Bolognese
Adapted slightly from My Berlin Kitchen by Luisa Weiss of The Wednesday Chef

1 tablespoon olive oil
3 tablespoons butter
1 large yellow onion, finely minced
2 large carrots, finely minced
1 kilo mince meat (kiyma)
½ cup red wine
1, 800-gram can of peeled tomatoes, pureed
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper

Put the oil and butter in a large cast-iron pot (or any large pot, really) over medium heat so that the butter melts. Add the onion and cook for about 7 minutes, stirring often. Then add the carrots and cook for another 2-3 minutes.

Add the mince meat and, using a wooden spoon, stir and chop the meat so that it breaks up into small, uniform pieces about the size of the carrot and onion. This will take several minutes and will require some elbow grease. Stir and cook until the meat is no longer pink, about 8 to 10 minutes.

Add the wine and stir well to combine, then simmer for another 2-3 minutes. Add the pureed tomatoes, salt and pepper, stir well, and lower the heat to the lowest possible setting. Put the lid on and let the pot simmer as long as you can, ideally 7 hours, but at a minimum, 5.

Bosphorus Brewing Company

For as many bars as there are in Istanbul, there have never been any pubs. Not until now, anyway. Now that the Bosphorus Brewing Company has opened, Istanbul has its first and very own family-owned and -run English pub, complete with homemade lagers, ales, sausages and mash, and yes, even Sunday roast.

It’s the kind of thing people in Istanbul have been waiting for for ages: a place where they can get good beer – not just Efes or Tuborg or Bomonti – accompanied by decent food with good service in a pleasant atmosphere.

It’s not a lot to ask, really, but in Istanbul – particularly in Beyoglu with its proliferation of identical bars all serving otuzluks of Efes for 9 TL – a good-quality pub has always been elusive, one step above and beyond the status quo offerings of surly barmen whose only qualification is their literal ability to draw a tap.

But the Bosphorus Brewing Company clearly had something else in mind when it opened in mid-November.

There are 5 beers currently on tap, with a stout to come (it was available at opening, but quickly sold out). My personal favorites are the Halic Gold, a lively and strong beer (7.4% alcohol) and the Beer 81.

Just last week, we celebrated a friend’s birthday there, and Jeff and I started off with the 5-beer sampler: 5, 5-cl shots of beer to get a taste of each one. While I liked the Icmedik and the Istanbul Pale Ale, both reminded me quite a bit of what is already on offer in the local beer market. I imagine both would be excellent served cold in the summer time on the pub’s terrace, but after the sampling, I immediately went for a glass of the Beer 81, followed by the Halic Gold.

The food is excellent, as well, and very English -- sausages and mash, beer-battered shrimp, lamb curry, steak in ale, chile con carne (served over rice, very strange to this American), bread pudding and sticky toffee pudding.

The pub was packed last weekend, its second after opening, which was a good sign but of course not entirely unexpected. Any new place here attracts an immediate and large crowd, which can quickly wane as the months wear on and people grow bored and search out the next new thing.

While the Bosphorus Brewing Company is a boon for expats, pub culture does not really exist in Istanbul. As foreigners were pounding back beers last weekend, a large table was crowded with Turkish people, many of them women, each of who appeared to sip one beer over several hours. Clearly, local café culture -- in which people sit for hours sipping 2-3 teas and paying 3 TL for it -- will not transition well to a British pub.

Still, the Bosphorus Brewing Company offers something no one else in the city does, and for that, it is very likely to develop a loyal and faithful crowd.

More info: Bosphorus Brewing Company website

One Morning Over Breakfast

Last week over breakfast I decided that taking yourself out to breakfast -- solo -- must be one of the world's most underrated activities. There's lots of articles about taking yourself out to lunch, or dinner, but breakfast? Simply not done. But let me tell you: it's pretty awesome.

I didn't have to fight anyone for the last tomato, and I got to eat as much cheese as I wanted, and -- this is the best part -- the bal kaymak was all mine. Bliss.

The trick to taking yourself out to breakfast, I think, is to go somewhere close to home -- no need to travel very far -- go out early, and have a great view. Now, not everyone can sit two feet from the Aegean but there are lots of other views and places just as nice in the world.

The truth is, I've come around to this city called Izmir. That's a survival mechanism of sorts, I suppose. You can't live somewhere for three years and continue to hate it. That requires too much energy, energy that could be used instead for jogging and dancing and having fun.

The trick to it is to travel. A lot. It doesn't need to be very far -- Istanbul or Foca will do. I just need to get out of Izmir at least once a month, twice if possible, to wind myself up a bit, have a good party, eat some stellar food and remind myself that the world does not begin and end with home.

Which -- let's be honest here -- isn't too bad at all.

Trabzon: Anıl Pide

It is a sad fact that not all Turkish food is good in Turkey. I'm sure it must be like that everywhere. There must be, of course, lackluster croissants in France and fair to middlin' paella in Spain. But I find it to be especially sad that one of my favorite Turkish foods -- pide -- is something I cannot seem to find in Izmir.

There used to be an amazing Konyalı pide place just by our house, but after it closed due to general incompotence, I spent months trying to find a replacement. And I never did. Most of the pide made at the places I tried in Izmir came straight out of the kitchen soggy and wet -- how do they even do that? -- and had far too much oil than necessary. 

As a result, I haven't had good pide in months and they were long, long months. And when we went to Trabzon I more than made up for that.

When we told the driver we hired for the day that we wanted to eat pide for lunch, he said he knew just where to take us. We followed his lead and he took us straight to Anıl Pide, just off Ataturk Alanı in the heart of Trabzon's centre.

I started off with the Yaprak Pide, which reminded me a lot of lahmacun (below) and Jeff ordered the kapalı kiymalı pide (closed meat pide, above middle-right). Both were excellent, though they didn't quite make up for a months-long pidesiz existence.

So in the evening -- after our driver had left us and he coudn't see our secret shame -- we scurried back to the restaurant and tried a few more options. I know it's unorthodox, but tavuklu pide (pide with chicken) is one of my favorite types of pide. Actually, it IS my favorite type of pide. It's just that it's kind of difficult to find on most menus so I normally end up going with karışık (mixed), which I always hope means I get a few obligatory tomatoes instead of a half kilo of ground meat.

But when Jeff ordered his pide (below) we realized the secret to the Black Sea's pide reputation: butter. Copious amounts of butter. And not just used in the actual cooking but piled in a melting spoonful on top.

I figured after all those months of not eating pide, any amount of butter I ate that day would be more than worth it.

Useful info: Anıl Pide, Ataturk Alanı No 8, Trabzon, Tel: 0462 321 05 40 / 321 05 41

Food: A Story in Three Parts

This joke -- brought to you by Jeff -- goes over big here on the Aegean:

A university student is late to class and his teacher says, "Where have you been?"

"Sorry, hocam, I didn't get up until 9," the student replies.

"But class doesn't start till noon," the teacher says.

"But, hocam, I had to have breakfast."

*     *     *     *     *

While having breakfast at a restaurant in our neighborhood the other day, Jeff and I mulled over the menu options, trying to choose orders that wouldn't take too long to prepare as we had other engagements that morning.

I chose an omlette, which I knew them to make rather quickly, and Jeff chose sahanda yumurta and also a simit tabağı, or a plate of simit with a side of tomatoes, cucumber and beyaz peynir (kind of like the equivalent of ordering a bagel, cream cheese and fruit in the US).

For a relatively quick breakfast, I noted to Jeff that it still seemed to be a lot of food.

After we gave our order, the waiter looked up and said:

"So you don't want a normal breakfast then?"

*     *     *     *     *

That same morning at breakfast we watched as dozens of people lined up outside in the cold but for what we didn't know. The line wasn't moving, and yet people kept coming and the line ended up snaking around the corner.

We posited multiple theories as to what they were all waiting for: a social security payment, perhaps? (Many of the people in line seemed to be of retirement age, hence this theory.) 

Then we thought maybe they were all waiting to see a judge, as we also have a theory that the building they were lining up in front of is municipal housing for judges. Where we first got this idea, I have no idea. It's possible we just made it up.

Finally, we asked the waiter what they were all waiting for.

"Ah," he said. "Every day, a truck comes from a Foça co-op with farm-fresh eggs, milk and cheese. Every day people wait there to buy their eggs and milk. They are very good quality eggs."

*     *     *     *     *

Long Haul

 

Way back in July, Jeff's mom sent him a box of some books he needed for the fall semester. As these things go, the box didn't get here till late this week, almost three months after she sent it. Inside was a surprise bag of miniature Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, which, as you can see, are a little worse for wear from their high summer overseas trip. But once you dig out the aluminium foil that's managed to embed itself into the chocolate-peanut buttery mess, they still taste pretty damn great.

Chickpea Salad (Nohut Piyazı)

I promised I'd come back with some more recipes on the lovely spread we put out a couple of weeks ago for some American guests, and today I'm sharing a chickpea salad I think you'll really enjoy.

I've been making a lot of salads like this recently, and I like them for many reasons: None of them require me to turn on the oven or even the stovetop, they all include lots of fresh produce (which is all in season!), and they're extremely healthy.

Plus, you can make four or five of these types of salads in a couple of hours while catching up on your favorite podcasts, and you've got a lovely karışık meze tabağı (mixed appetizer plate) worth paying 8 TL for at a restaurant!

Here's what you need to make this particular chickpea salad*:

4 cups of canned chickpeas, or 2 cups dried chickpeas boiled and simmered till soft
1 small red onion, diced
2 medium tomatoes, diced
2-3 garlic cloves, chopped
small handful of fresh, chopped parsley
1/2 teaspoon red pepper powder (not red pepper flakes)
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons paprika
1/4 cup lemon juice
5 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper

Combine all the ingredients into a bowl in the order listed above, then give everything a good mix and put in the fridge for at least 30 minutes for everything to get cold and for the flavors to "meld". Be sure to stir it before serving to incorporate the liquids again.

That's it: no oven, no stovetop, nothing fancy, just a really simple salad to add to your summer grilling session, or to eat alongside your rotisserie chicken picked up on the way home from work, or to enjoy as a light lunch with yogurt.

Afiyet olsun!

*Recipe adapted slightly from The Sultan's Kitchen

PS: Also, is anyone coming to Turkey from the US in the next month or so? I am looking to order something that will take 7-10 days to be delivered to a US address, then have it brought here (Istanbul is fine, Izmir is even better!).

Basic Cacik

It's hot in Izmir. It should be, of course, it being the second week of June. It was so nice there for so long -- cool, a bit rainy, sometimes overcast -- that I was deluded into thinking it may never get hot here, that I might not see 35-degree heat until mid-July.

Sadly, I was wrong, and summer is officially in full swing along the Aegean coast! Going out in the middle of the afternoon is still totally doable, though that will change in about a month or so when simply standing in the sun makes me reach for my inhaler since I can't breathe.

There's lots of ways, though, that Izmirlis deal with the heat: slowing down, not going outside in the middle of the afternoon, and eating lighter foods, like vegetables cooked in olive oil.

Which is where this cacik comes in. With only three ingredients -- yogurt, cucumber and dried mint (okay, four if you include salt) -- it's perfect to whip up as an accompaniment to just about anything. Another plus: you can make this in less time than it takes for your air conditioner (AC) to cool of your sweltering kitchen, thereby saving on your electricity bill!

And this version of cacik is super easy to make. If you live in Turkey, the three required ingredients are probably already staples in your house, whether you're Turkish or not. I make and eat cacik often in the summertime, both at restaurants and at home. While I often enjoy the variety of tasting how different people make their cacik, I always prefer my own version, with its chunks of cucumber and copious amounts of mint. And, of course, I can choose which yogurt I like to use.

Here's how I make it:

In a medium-sized bowl, add about a cup and a half of your favorite yogurt (I love the Danone kind here), one diced cucumber (no need to peel or deseed it), two teaspoons of dried mint, and some salt. Mix it all together, then let it sit in the fridge for at least a half hour for the flavors to come together.

That's it! That's barely even a recipe, isn't it?

I made this cacik just this past weekend during a cooking session in the kitchen (where, yes, I did turn the AC on) when I prepared several different salads (the recipes for which I will certainly share here!) for two guests visiting us from the US. Happily, one of our guests particularly liked my cacik! 

You can also, if you wish, drizzle some extra-virgin olive oil on top of the cacik before serving, but I don't find this necessary, though it does make the dish pretty!

Do you have a favorite way to prepare or eat cacik? 

The Hunt for a Good Bar and Cafe on Izmir's Kordon

Come August, I will have lived in Izmir for two years. Isn't that crazy? I only thought we'd be here a year and it looks like we will be here for three! (Though I am putting my foot down at more than that, come hell or high water.)

In all that time, though, I have yet to find my favorite pub or cafe along Izmir's famed Kordon, that stretch of waterway along the Aegean in Alsancak lined with bars, cafes, restaurants and a few shops. It is the place in Izmir to watch the sun set over the water, and I'm astounded at myself for not having found my own little home on the Kordon yet.

I much prefer to drink a beer at the pubs lining Alsancak's back alleyways -- which, while not as plentiful as Taksim's, are still good for a night out -- where the breeze off the water isn't as refreshing but the atmosphere is spot on.

The thing about the Kordon is, well, it's expensive. And I think it lacks character. Every bar looks exactly the same to me, with the same badly stained outdoor furniture covered in the same make of rain-resistant pillows, all serving the exact same drinks at the exact same prices.

But I think it's high time I gave the Kordon -- and its commercial residents -- another chance. Because, gosh darn it, I want to take the ferry to Alsancak after work, plop down in my favorite chair at my favorite bar and order my white wine to watch the sun set over the water. And this is going to be the summer I do it.

I've decided to leave the fish restaurants out of my search entirely. I'm not a fan of the ridiculously high prices the waterfront restaurants are charging for fish these days; I can eat better and more cheaply in my own neighborhood. What I'm seeking instead is one good pub where I can have a drink, and one good cafe where I can have a tea. Even better if they turn out to be the same place!

Starting in June, after we return from Paris, I'll make more of an effort to seek out the best of the bars lining the Kordon and report back to you on what I find. Do you have a favorite place along the Kordon? Any suggestions for what I should try first?

Fethiye: First Impressions

Last weekend Jeff and I made our way south to the lovely coastal town of Fethiye where we met up with the people behind Turkey's For Life and spent an awesome day cafe hopping and strolling through the town. I hadn't been to Fethiye in more than 10 years and though I'd heard again and again from people over the years that it is one of the most gorgeous places in Turkey, I just hadn't managed to get there until now!

We started our stroll along the harbour, and I was filled yet again with jealousy that all of these lovely towns along the coast of Turkey -- except Izmir! -- have gorgeous harbours where you can take a boat cruise or yacht tour.

I also couldn't help be struck by how international Fethiye was. I was particularly amused by the Indian restaurant on the "Gaza Strip" serving omelettes and spaghetti bolognese. And there were certainly plenty of places eager to lure us in with the various sports matches on big-screen televisions.

Though I will admit that I had a most excellent curry -- something impossible to find in Izmir -- at Cafe Cafe, which really made me happy.

We briefly explored the theatre at Fethiye, a rather run-down affair in the middle of town but one that is still used today for various performances, such as one last week.

We managed to while away several hours on Saturday night at Deep Blue Bar in Pasapur, which I don't have any photos of unfortunately, but trust me when I say the bar is awesome! We shall definitely be going back on our return to Fethiye.

On Sunday evening, we walked through town with our backpacks not really looking for anything to do in particular but needing to kill some time before our 11.30pm bus took off for Izmir. And, wonderfully, we stumbled upon Fethiye's famous fish market, where you purchase whatever seafood you want from the fishmongers, then take it to a nearby restaurant and have them cook it for you.

It is quite a deal actually. You take your fish, prawns, squid or whatever you want to eat to any of the restaurants surrounding the market where, for 5 TL, they'll cook it for you and serve you salad and bread. Drinks, of course, are sold separately.

Unfortunately, though, we didn't eat there because we didn't want to stuff ourselves full of levrek before sitting on a bus for 5 hours. Next time!

Actually, there is a lot we have to do next time we are in Fethiye. We have to get to Çalış Beach, Ölü Deniz, and explore more of Paspatur, the shopping district. I'm already looking forward to going back to Deep Blue and sipping an Efes while watching the tourists go by!

Next: Our hotel recommendation for Fethiye!