So, I have Turkish family friends... a Turkish family. Not only have they lead my family and I to amazing restaurants (for baklvah this place is top notch, and head next door for amazing lentil soup, iskender kebap, and a quiet, mostly-male-business-lunch crowd (that wasn't meant to be a deterrent), or their favorite stall in the spice bazaar, with the finest spices, nuts, and dried fruit that I rave about weekly. They helped us find (and order at) Borsa, which was doubtlessly the best meal I have had here, despite my concerns about the slightly... well... mid-40s-Madison-Avenue-feel. Not going here would have been a grave mistake and if you are willing to open your pockets you will not regret it, I promise.
Anyway, they have been helpful and hospitable in all sense of the word, they have opened their home and their family to me. But we reached a whole new level of closeness when I was invited to cook dolma with the matriarch! So last Saturday, I headed up the Bosphorus to Tarabya, where they live, which is a quieter, slightly suburban area. I headed in to meet Layla ("the mom"), and she had prepared a "simple lunch", but it's simplicity was in how simply amazing it was. An artichoke heart, boiled, drizzled with olive oil, with cooked beans, carrots and onions atop. Chard, cooked down with onions. A heaping spoonful of yogurt (which she makes every morning) from a terra cotta pot. Dill and lemon partnered these components quite nicely. Lastly, a salad of arugula, golden raisins (which I usually don't like...), mint and walnuts. Perfect little lunch, enjoyed on the terrace, listening to Layla talk about slow food, cooking, and her mother ("the matriarch" (I named her that, not them)).
A quick hummus lesson before heading out--boiled and shelled chickpeas are smashed with a fork. Then lemon juice, tahini, salt and yogurt are added. Yogurt, how clever. Layla said that they like it white and tahini heavy, and that it was.
So we head over to meet ye pint-sized matriarch, who opens her arms to me. I am lead into the kitchen and broken english + broken turkish commence, but smiles, gestures and saying "çok güzel" (which means "very nice" or "very pretty" (it's really the most important phrase to know)) does the trick. Layla translated her dolma secrets; cooled white rice combines with cooked onions ("always onions, everywhere"), parsley, pine nuts, cinnamon, olive oil, salt, pepper, currants(I think I'm forgetting a thing or two... sorry).
This is a nice, oily mixture, with crunch, subtle sweetness, and warmth (ahhh, cinnamon). The leaves, picked from their grape vines, are washed and boiled and cooled/dried, and ready to be rolled. Ye Matriarch taught me the right way (I was being way too geometric and planned, its all about faith in the fingers), and we rolled leaf upon leaf, filling a whole pot with dolma. A little water/lemon juice/oil on top, the pot is sealed, and they are cooked at low temperature for about an hour. These would be eaten at Mother's day brunch, the following afternoon.
But for our own enjoyment, some Börek. It is a common pastry, sweet or savory, which comes in many shapes, sizes and varieties, though all share layers of some sort of dough and some sort of filling, baked. Börek is made with a kind of thin pastry dough, but there is also Su böreği ("water börek"), which is uses boiled dough (hence the water aspect), giving it an incredible thick-and-eggy consistency. It is very difficult to make (says ye Matriarch), I believe her. Layla had made some earier (and froze it), so we merely defrosted it, painted it with egg yolks, sprinkled it with black cumin, and stuck it in the oven. Ours was filled chard and cheese. It was enjoyed warm with multiple glasses of tea and very pleasant company.
The extras, to be saved for another day.
And yes, this all does mean that I got to enjoy the Mother's Day brunch at Layla's sister's house. Never have my eyes or stomach been so delighted, with every Turkish breakfast food imaginable, all homemade, all fresh. Fresh tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, grapes. 5 kinds of cheese (including special spicy cheese from Antokya, in the southeast). 3 kinds of sliced meat. Turkish s savory crepe/pancakes filled with meat or spinach. Su böreği with meat. Sugar soaked figs, black walnuts, melon and pumpkin. Black carrots. Dolma. Bread. Rose jam. Clotted cream. Tea. And a slice of moist, light, strawberry cake with heavenly cream for dessert. And I know that I am forgetting things, because I couldn't even see the end of the table. All to say, what an amazing two days! Layla and her mother promise to teach me some of their ways, as many as I can absorb while I am here. (Including a personal favorite, Moussaka!)
Anyway, they have been helpful and hospitable in all sense of the word, they have opened their home and their family to me. But we reached a whole new level of closeness when I was invited to cook dolma with the matriarch! So last Saturday, I headed up the Bosphorus to Tarabya, where they live, which is a quieter, slightly suburban area. I headed in to meet Layla ("the mom"), and she had prepared a "simple lunch", but it's simplicity was in how simply amazing it was. An artichoke heart, boiled, drizzled with olive oil, with cooked beans, carrots and onions atop. Chard, cooked down with onions. A heaping spoonful of yogurt (which she makes every morning) from a terra cotta pot. Dill and lemon partnered these components quite nicely. Lastly, a salad of arugula, golden raisins (which I usually don't like...), mint and walnuts. Perfect little lunch, enjoyed on the terrace, listening to Layla talk about slow food, cooking, and her mother ("the matriarch" (I named her that, not them)).
A quick hummus lesson before heading out--boiled and shelled chickpeas are smashed with a fork. Then lemon juice, tahini, salt and yogurt are added. Yogurt, how clever. Layla said that they like it white and tahini heavy, and that it was.
So we head over to meet ye pint-sized matriarch, who opens her arms to me. I am lead into the kitchen and broken english + broken turkish commence, but smiles, gestures and saying "çok güzel" (which means "very nice" or "very pretty" (it's really the most important phrase to know)) does the trick. Layla translated her dolma secrets; cooled white rice combines with cooked onions ("always onions, everywhere"), parsley, pine nuts, cinnamon, olive oil, salt, pepper, currants(I think I'm forgetting a thing or two... sorry).
This is a nice, oily mixture, with crunch, subtle sweetness, and warmth (ahhh, cinnamon). The leaves, picked from their grape vines, are washed and boiled and cooled/dried, and ready to be rolled. Ye Matriarch taught me the right way (I was being way too geometric and planned, its all about faith in the fingers), and we rolled leaf upon leaf, filling a whole pot with dolma. A little water/lemon juice/oil on top, the pot is sealed, and they are cooked at low temperature for about an hour. These would be eaten at Mother's day brunch, the following afternoon.
But for our own enjoyment, some Börek. It is a common pastry, sweet or savory, which comes in many shapes, sizes and varieties, though all share layers of some sort of dough and some sort of filling, baked. Börek is made with a kind of thin pastry dough, but there is also Su böreği ("water börek"), which is uses boiled dough (hence the water aspect), giving it an incredible thick-and-eggy consistency. It is very difficult to make (says ye Matriarch), I believe her. Layla had made some earier (and froze it), so we merely defrosted it, painted it with egg yolks, sprinkled it with black cumin, and stuck it in the oven. Ours was filled chard and cheese. It was enjoyed warm with multiple glasses of tea and very pleasant company.
The extras, to be saved for another day.
And yes, this all does mean that I got to enjoy the Mother's Day brunch at Layla's sister's house. Never have my eyes or stomach been so delighted, with every Turkish breakfast food imaginable, all homemade, all fresh. Fresh tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, grapes. 5 kinds of cheese (including special spicy cheese from Antokya, in the southeast). 3 kinds of sliced meat. Turkish s savory crepe/pancakes filled with meat or spinach. Su böreği with meat. Sugar soaked figs, black walnuts, melon and pumpkin. Black carrots. Dolma. Bread. Rose jam. Clotted cream. Tea. And a slice of moist, light, strawberry cake with heavenly cream for dessert. And I know that I am forgetting things, because I couldn't even see the end of the table. All to say, what an amazing two days! Layla and her mother promise to teach me some of their ways, as many as I can absorb while I am here. (Including a personal favorite, Moussaka!)
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