Food and Travel, Memories and Road Trips

To me food and travel are inexplicably, deeply linked together. Whenever I go to a new city, country, region, I try to locate the local food market and wander around, hopefully finding a hole-in-the-wall eatery ordering whatever the people at the next table are eating (unless that dish happens to be still alive or a form of insect - we all have our limits), and going to restaurants my local friends (either old or freshly made that day) say is "The Best." The strategy has served me well as evidenced by many memorable dinners, conversations, and fairly few incidents of the notorious Delhi-belly. On a side-note, Google has informed me of a new Bollywood movie by the same name, one can only hope with a different interpretation of the phrase.

While eating dinner with my dad tonight, we happened to have Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations on, easily my favorite show and probably my dream job. The episode tonight was shot in Egypt, and the Bedouins Tony visited butchered a goat in his honor. It reminded me of a family trip to Turkey about 11 or 12 years ago when we went to the small town, Ulukisla, both of my parents come from. We stayed with my father's Uncle Haci, a spry 60 year old who had a Western-style toilet installed in his house for our visit, no small expense for him and hugely appreciated by my brother and me. 

Uncle Haci, his wife, my grandmother, aunt and family all went out to the vineyards owned by our family, though the grapes grown have just been used for fruit as long as any one can recall. We took the sedan we drove down in and Uncle Haci's small pick-up, which had a lovely little mewing lamb in the back. 

I remember foolishly wondering why we were traveling with an animal, but not thinking too much of it as the entire experience of being in my parent's hometown for the first time since I was 6 months old was intense. I don't think I've ever tasted anything as funny or pungent as fresh goat's milk cheese. Think a liquid tangy slightly chunky chevre. It was served by one of the numerous extended family members' we had met (cousin's cousins, great aunts and uncles galore, half the town seeming to be a relation of one sort or the another) and I would not necessarily recommend it. The yogurt of course, not Old World family reunions.

We got out to the vineyard and set up a picnic spot with blankets, various sides and breads, and beverages. Uncle Haci pulled down an increasingly panicking lamb and I realized that in fact the little lamb was going to be part of the menu du jour. After a brief foray into vegetarianism (probably as part of a teenage rebellion rather than anything remotely related to animal rights or health reasons)  I had been squeamish about meat and didn't even cook my own meat dishes at that point. 

How we change.

At the time, I remember talking a mile-a-minute to my mom in English as my dad and brother joined the menfolk to go behind the trees and do the deed, so to speak. I told her there was no way I was even touching a piece of that meat and just how unfair it was to that poor little sheep. My grandmother, aunt and great aunt quickly realized that I was becoming upset and it caused them merriment to no end. My mother hissed under her breath that this was a huge honor for them to sacrifice a lamb for us, not to mention a further financial burden, and I'm sure said something to the effect of "suck it up or shut up," of course in a far more maternal manner.

I pouted and decided that I would still take the moral high ground and seethe in silence as I watched the expertly skinned meat pieces were brought to us on the bone. My grandmother and great-aunt started cutting the meat off the bone and sauteing onions and some tomatoes in a huge pot on an open fire. 

Once all of the meat had been diced, they threw it in the pot, seasoned it only with salt and pepper and let it cook briefly. Everyone else started digging in as I eat dry bread and started contemplating just how strongly I felt for little the poor little lamb and how good that dish looked.

Of course I caved. And I have to say, it was the best lamb I ever had. 

And now I am getting ready to welcome two dear friends from France and embarking on a 2300 mile road-trip on the East Coast up to Montreal and then back down to Windsor and Detroit. We have a few choice meals planned out including Rayuela for the first-time, my DC favorite Marvins, and Sultan's Kitchen in Boston whose chef Ozcan Ozan wrote one of my favorite Turkish cookbooks with the same title. I want to treat my friends to hot dogs on Coney Island and at Ben's Chili Bowl in DC, wander Boston's Little Italy, and go back to Steve's diner at Middlebury where I spent far too much time on food that was far too good, heavy, and affordable. 

To say that I am excited would be an understatement, and I look forward to seeing some of you on the road, discovering new nooks and crannies, and hopefully even cooking for those kind enough to host. 

A bientôt!

Memories of Barbara and Turkish Macaroni with Lamb

Today I had the honor of attending a Celebration of Life event for an old family friend, who had passed away suddenly in March. 

Barbara was a remarkable woman and at the event, her friends and colleagues shared stories about just what a rich life she led. Among other things, she did many of the original illustrations at the University of Michigan's Natural History Museum, completed a PhD and worked in Women's Studies long before it became an established discipline, and raised two children as a single mom in the 1960s. 

She travelled the world, became particularly interested in Turkey and the Middle East, and was very involved with the Turkish American community in Michigan. An avid gardner, we all received seeds and planters at the celebration per her wishes, and I look forward to the flowers as well as the radishes, lettuce, and endive we'll get to enjoy on her behalf and in her honor. 

I had known Barbara all of my life, and was always touched by how she would always remember what I was up to academically or professionally, and challenged by the thought-provoking questions she would ask. 

Her family had come to eat dinner at the cafe the day after she passed, and came again this evening . While serving a table of 15 is never easy, they were a wonderful group to serve and it was inspirational to see how candidly they celebrated her life while still mourning a great loss.

Barbara would frequent my mother's restaurant and would often call and ask if we had any lamb with macaroni, her son's favorite dish. Even if we did not, it was easy enough to whip up a batch and she would walk in with her immaculately coiffed snow white hair, saucy red lipstick and shift dress, more often then now with an anecdote to share. 

I do not know the exact recipe of the dish, and have promised to not divulge cafe secrets. However, my version of it follows below. It is, like most of my favorite food, simple and comforting. 

In a heavy bottomed skillet saute about 1/2 onion of finely diced onion in olive oil until cooked through. Add about 3/4 lbs ground lamb (lamb is quite fatty, so you really shouldn't need a lot of olive oil in the skillet to cook the onions with, otherwise the dish will become too rich) and cook until the lamb in completely cooked through. Add 1 - 2 finely diced ripe tomatoes, a small spoonful of tomato paste and a small spoonful of red pepper paste, cooking until the tomatoes have wilted into the dish. Season with salt, pepper and paprika. 

Cook your desired pasta in boiling salted water until al dente, drain and return to pot, adding a generous pat of butter to melt in the pasta. We frequently use macaroni at the cafe, but I could see this dish being made with penne or fusilli, or even my favorite, orechiette.

Add the cooked ground lamb mixture to the pot, stirring well until blended through. Serve the dish with a garlic-yogurt sauce and sprinkle with maras pepper and dried mint. 

Dr. Barbara J. Bilge,  August 31, 1931 - March 2, 2009

New Orleans memories, Part Deux

I managed to dig up and scan some of the photos from that trip, eight whole years ago. 

The etoufee or was it gumbo? I can't tell from the picture, I do remember it being very, very good: 

Antoines: 

Walking around: 

New Year's Eve Bourbon Street Shenanigans and our feeble efforts to cook

It really was a wonderful trip and it breaks my heart that much more to know what happened to such a lovely, unique city with such character. 

New Orleans memories

Last night HBO had an amazing documentary on Hurricane Katrina, Trouble the Water, as told by the story of three people from the 9th ward who filmed their experience staying through the storm, the breaking of the levees, fleeing New Orleans, and then going back. 

The imagery of the movie was fascinating and horrifying. I was living in Brussels at the time of the storm and had vague recollections of the images on TV then, the shocking devastation and the disproportionate racial inequality of the victims. I remember sitting with friends looking at the TV in shock thinking that this could not be the graceful city I spent a week in, one with an amazing food and music culture, a developed sense of identity, all of which seemed to be swept in the mud and water from the levees breaking. 

Trouble the Water was particularly powerful as you the viewer were able to see what it was like to be in a house in the lower 9th Ward, the desperate flee to the attic as the water rose higher and higher in their house, the attempts to find safety on a partially closed down Naval Base on higher ground (they were denied entry) and then finally at a local high school. 

Without getting into too many details of the movie, I can only say watch it because the stories of Kimberly and Scott are interspersed with news footage and horrifying recordings of 911 calls by resident who are trapped in rising water only to be told that there are no rescuers coming. I would also recommend having a large box of Kleenex nearby. 

My own experience with New Orleans was idyllic - during my first year of graduate school a few of us who had interned together the summer prior decided that we would meet there for New Years Eve 2002 and all piled into our friends' Tulane dorm room. The city I saw was graceful and elegant, full of charming restaurants and cafes, a very unique sense of identity and a certain je ne sais quoi amongst its residents which really reverberated in the atmosphere. 

We did spend an inordinate time on Bourbon Street, to which I can only say that I never saw so many body parts, both male and female, on display to get beads, and went to drive-through frozen cocktail joints where the workers were more than happy to recommend which frozen concoction was in fact the strongest, without verifying our IDs. 

But a few blocks away from Bourbon Street and in many other neighborhoods, there were beautiful french-style cafes and small restaurants, I remember one particular Cuban cigar and coffee store which I was particularly fond of and venues playing all sorts of music - jazz, honky-tonk, rockability - until all hours of the morning, and so much more. 

While I suspect most of the calories we consumed were liquid (we were all in our early 20s and didn't know too much better) a few meals do stand out in my mind: 

Eating frozen alligator for the first time in a typical New Orleans joint and finding it really did taste like a mix between chicken and calamari and wasn't all that bad. 

Enjoying an amazing etouffe at a little hole-in-the wall type place when we drove out to the bayou and thinking just how good it was. 

Enjoying coffee and beignets at Cafe du Monde, sitting on their large terrace, people watching to one's heart content and just thinking life didn't get too much better then in that very moment. 

And finally having an amazing meal at Antoine's,  a 160-year-old  New Orleans' establishment where we treated ourselves to a fancy meal. Amongst various recollections, what I clearly remember was the wonderful old-world formality of the service - there is something to be said about a restaurant which values its waitstaff and sees them as colleagues who are also in it for the long-term. My crayfish bisque was amazing, rich and frothy, tasting like the sweet crab-like meat but without being overly creamy, and at the end they made us an entire baked Alaska, lightening it on fire to caramelize the meringue while keeping the ice cream inside smooth, cool, and creamy. It was one of those amazing dishes that keep your palate on its toes to speak, never knowing the texture and temperature of the next morsel. 

I never made it to the 9th Ward - my suggestion to our host that we take the streetcar to Desire was greeted with derision and a flippant "best of luck" for my personal safety should I chose to do so. In retrospect, I really wish I had,  because what really could have happened during the day, and I could have used my best Blanche du Bois line "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." 

I would say next time, but the little that remains of that neighborhood and the changing racial and socio-economic dynamics of the city might make it unlikely that Streetcars run to Desire again. And it is tragic that we are willing to let an entire community unnecessarily suffer through a horrific natural disaster but then do very, very little to help rebuild their lives and neighborhoods. 

I sincerely hope that one time one can laissez-les bon temps rouelez not only on Bourbon Street but all over the city. And until then, I bid New Orleans may deepest a bientot and bon chance. 

Tuesday Turnarounds

There is no better way to improve a day than by to spend it cooking. Some might call it escaping reality, but it works for me and tends to make those I live with equally happy. So Tuesday became a spontaneous dinner party, one attended by a good friend, her two bottles of wine, and eventually my parents. Quality over quantity always rules when one thinks of guests. 

While waiting for my friend I set out the salsa, marinated olives and a Latin-American inspired yogurt dip which I had made earlier that afternoon. It has that nice balance of tangy and creamy goodness and was a lovely antidote to my salsa which turned out far too spicy. 

In a food processor, finely chop fresh cilantro, a bell pepper, jalapenos to taste and dried whole jalapenos. In a medium-sized shallow bowl put 2 cups of plain yogurt (preferably Greek or Middle Eastern, low or full-fat). Add the chopped cilantro-pepper mixture and stir well. Add 1/2 a lime's juice, a dash of cumin, dried mint, and salt and pepper to taste. Dip will only keep a day or two refrigerated. 

 

I also cracked open a really nice Chilean Sauvignon Blanc, just to get the creative juices flowing of course. 

For a long time I've been meaning to make a homemade version of Mac'n'Cheese, one of my personal vices combining both starch, cream, and really salty food. And I thought the addition of spinach would constitute the necessary vegetable/leafy greens portion of the evening as would the salsa that I made earlier in the afternoon. 

So the below recipe is going to sound complicated, but in fact all of the steps are straight-forward and the dish is very easy to assemble. 

Prepare a cream sauce by first making a roux by melting approximately 3 tablespoons butter and adding a slightly-lesser amount of flour. Cook the flour until it is nice and slightly browned, and  quickly add approx. 1 cup of milk while whisking rapidly. The mixture will lump up a bit and slowly add chicken broth (about 1/8 a cup at a time) until the mixture becomes smooth and creamy. Set the pot aside to cool. In a separate bowl,  lightly beat two eggs. Add salt, pepper and nutmeg to the cream mixture to taste. Once the cream is sufficiently cooled - it should be cool to the touch - slowly add the egg mixture again while whisking quickly to avoid the eggs cooking and curdling. Check  and adjust seasoning if needed, and set mixture aside. 

Thinly slice approximately 1/3 - 1/2 pound of your choice of cheese, preferably cheddar or something slightly tangy and that melts easily, and set aside. 

In a large heavy-bottomed casket, saute 1 sliced onion in olive oil. As the onions cook and absorb the fat, add chicken broth a tablespoon at a time to rehydrate the mixture. Cook onions  until they are completely translucent and a tad caramelized. Wash, spin-dry, and coarsely chop two bunches of fresh spinach. Add spinach in batches to the onions, until they are all just cooked through. Flavor mixture with thyme, nutmeg, and salt and pepper to taste, and melt in a tablespoon of butter. 

Cook an entire box  of pasta until al dente. We only had spaghetti at home and it worked fine, but I think macaroni or fusili would work equally well. Drain pasta, return to pot, adding a splash of the chicken broth and some olive oil so the it doesn't stick together. 

In a regular-sized ceramic baking dish spread a layer of cream sauce, approximately 1/2 the pasta, and then 1/2 the cheese. Add the entire spinach mixture, and then the cheese, pasta, and cream sauce in the reverse order. Generously cover the mixture with bread-crumbs (I finished off the panko we had), thyme, red and black pepper, and a few small pats of butter. Cover casserole with aluminum foil and cook in a pre-heated oven at 350F for approximately  25 - 30 minutes. Carefully uncover the dish and put under the broiler until the bread crumbs are golden, depending on how powerful your oven is this can happen in 30 seconds to 2 minutes but it is good stand right by and immediately pull the dish out to avoid scorching the entire top. 

Serve immediately, preferably with a leafy green salad, good wine and company. 

For my first time ever of making homemade version of mac'n'cheese, I have to admit it turned out pretty darn good and I'll be adding this to my comfort food/feel better repertoire. 

Bon appetite. 

PS: for those of you wondering, the other two bottles were duly consumed and 7am came far, far too early this morning. But it was well worth it. 

Tuesday Sulks and Turkish Coffee Cures

We all have those mornings when nothing, and I mean nothing, is going our way. Mine seem to happen far too often for my taste, but, quoi faire? 

One cure-all that works for me is to make a mean cup of Turkish coffee, smoke, listen to good music and turn my inbox off. It works wonders. And making a mean cup of Turkish coffee seems deceptively easy. On first glance, it seems you simply add coffee grounds and sugar to a pot, cover with water, brew, and serve. 

In fact, it is one of the litmus tests of a cook's ability in Turkey: 

Traditionally when a family went to a young ladies house to ask for her hand in marriage, she would serve Turkish coffee to her potential in-laws and family, a demonstration of her suitability as a good wife. The coffee had to be made impeccably: perfectly frothy on top and exactly sweetened to each individuals liking. In Turkey when you order your coffee you specify how sweet you want it: sade - with no sugar, orta - with medium sugar, and sekerli -sweet). If all coffees were deemed to pass the test (usually decided by the future mother-in-law) then the family would ask for the young ladies hand in marriage. 

Turkish coffee can be made with any finely ground coffee and in most American grocery stores you can specify your coffee to be ground Turkish style. We use coffee from Kurukahveci Mehmet Efendi,  one of the best coffee roasters in Turkey. Should you have the good fortune to travel to Istanbul, you can buy freshly ground coffee directly from their original store, very near the Misir Carsisi - Egyptian Spice Market. Otherwise it is possible to find it online or in some Middle Eastern stores. 

Put 1 1/2 to 2 heaping teaspoons of Turkish coffee in the bottom of a cezve, or any small narrow pot with a long handle, and add sugar to taste. For medium sweet coffee, add slightly less sugar than the amount of coffee used. Pour one Turkish coffee cup's worth of water over the coffee and sugar, and stir gently. The coffee should mostly evaporate, but there should be a tad on top. If there isn't, add another 1/2 tsp and gently stir again. Put the spoon away and do not stir the pot again. This is very important, you cannot and should not stir while making the coffee as otherwise the foam will not form properly.

Place the cezve over medium-high heat. Do not allow the water to fully boil, but rather let the foam rise in the middle, while the water is beginning to boil around the rim. Once the foam has risen a good amount - maybe 3/4 inch or more - immediately remove from heat and gently pour the coffee in the Turkish coffee cup. If you pour slowly, the coffee will pour first and will be topped by a thick layer of foam. Let the coffee sit for a few seconds allowing it to settle and drink immediately. There should only be a little bit of grit at the bottom and most people don't drink the last bit of the coffee to avoid it. 

Traditionally at this point you let the remaining coffee cool in its cup, put the saucer on top and flip it over. Your fortune is then read from the coffee grounds.

Ideally you should enjoy your coffee in a lovely cafe terrace or on your porch, with or without cigarette. When you have the misfortune of April snow, you can drink it indoors gazing out, while still feeling significantly better and sufficiently wired to face the day's remaining challenges.

Afiyet Olsun! 

PS - While recovering from my sulks, I have been listening to Nigel Kennedy's klezmer album, Nigel Kennedy and the Kroke Band, which I highly recommend. Here is one video of a live performance.

Thoughts on drink 1 of ?

Baachus

My old friend! Your gut protuberant

your horns

palely carved, your tongue claret-sticky - 

how good it is to see you! Take

the weight off your rump. 

I think we’ve listened to this plopping

music before, 

have we not? This lucid gluggling?

Tall-stemmed glasses catching fire from light? 

So who’ll drink first? You or me? 

How specific our taste is - for just this raisin, 

just this weedy fragrance, the tannic

beatitudes of wine!

Do we abjure the proletariat of corn and hops? 

We do!

Wine is how words taste, fermented in darkness,

releasing tongues from cobwebs that restrained them. 

Old friend, I can see by the look on your face

you’ve

something to tell me. Good or bad? Speak!

Extract from ‘Cafe des Artistes” by John Hartley Williams (Cape Poetry)

Published in the Financial Times, April 18 / April 19 2009

Foodie Weekends

Food-wise, this weekend was about as good as it gets and I am feeling comfortably full sitting and writing on this chilly Sunday evening. We have the fireplace going, The Apprentice in the background (mother’s choice, not mine) a purring cat on my dad’s lap and my MacBook on mine - maybe our own Turkish-American version of a Norman Rockwell portrait? 

Friday started with me helping my dad make his amazing Adana Kebabs. I've had these kebabs in Turkey, and I can say with all objectivity that his version is by far the best. In the whole-wide world. This recipe being a highly guarded family secret I'll just tantalize you with pictures of the prep and invite you to stop by for dinner next time we are grilling. When the weather is nice, there are few better places in the world to eat than on our patio facing the woods and getting full late afternoon sun. 

 

My contribution to the evening was my highly improvised salsa fresca, enhanced by the grilled sweet peppers I had made a few evenings ago. The recipe is very easy and I change it around based on whatever ingredients are around: 

Wash, spin dry and finely chop fresh cilantro in a food processor. Empty into a large bowl. Finely chop 1/2 a sweet onion, a few cloves of garlic, and a jalapeno or two in the same processor, and empty it into the same bowl. Coarsely chop up a few over-ripe tomatoes and pulse in the food processor until it is chunky but not pureed, and add to the mixture. If the tomatoes are too ripe, then it is worth seeding them, otherwise the salsa will be too watery. If you have grilled sweet peppers, puree them in the processor and add to mixture. Add the juice of one lime, a generous dash of cumin, some extra hot pepper (either sauce or dried depending on preference), and salt and pepper to taste. 

Did I mention that the dinner went really well with Bell’s Oberon? The 2009 batch just came out and is highly drinkable. 

Saturday morning we went to the Farmers' Market which has really expanded with the warming weather and ripening crops. We grabbed breakfast at Zingermans, and I tried their new Obama'bun, which I would highly, highly recommend. It is basically a pecan danish with a load of caramel on top. Probably not the healthiest breakfast choice but a great morning sugar rush. I also got to meet the lovely lady who makes the cookies I'm so fond of (shhh....they're cheaper at the Market....and bought a jar of her dulce de leche which I am very excited to try).

That evening my mom's cafe had their monthly prix fixe dinner, featuring lamb, chicken or shrimp Adana Kebabs well as an amazing mixed-meze plate and decadent tiramisu. Again, all of these recipes are family/trade secrets but maybe these pictures will whet your appetite and encourage you to stop by the cafe. We also make a mean kir a la turque, which I developed utilizing my vast expertise in, errrm, kir tasting, and it is quite the seller. . . 

Finally Sunday evening I volunteered to cook as my German food craving got the best of me. Once in a blue moon the urge to eat a good Sauerbraten with Knoedel, Bratwurst, Kaesespaetzle, or Schnitzel appears and I can think of nothing else until it is satisfied. 

When I was 17, I lived in a village called Ruderting for a year with a German (Bavarian) host-family and attended Gymnasium. It was my first real overseas experience, away from my parents in a country where I could legally drink, and in a household where pork ruled supreme. It was only after having gained 15-lbs that I realized everything in the house was literally cooked or baked in Schmalz, i.e. lard and not the Crisco-like fat I thought it was. 

My own variation of German food is quite a bit lighter than what I ate during that year, and it was a success with my parents, both of whose palates’ are about as sophisticated and critical as they come. 

Tonight's dinner featured lemon-thyme chicken schnitzel with panko, warm German potato salad, and roasted broccoli, all served with a great Californian Merlot, dill pickles and German mustard.  

The salad was the easiest bit as I modified a recipe I found on Epicurious.com which you can find here. Living in a pork-free household, I omitted the bacon and sauteed the onions in olive oil with a sprinkle of sugar, allowing them to really caramelize and cook well. Instead of beef broth, my mom was making chicken broth, so I “borrowed” some of that, and finally, I added paprika and thyme, giving the dish a slightly woodsy taste. The salad is really good served warm and was very easy to make. 

The schnitzel was also very easy to make, but just had several steps. 

Wash, dry and marinate thinly sliced chicken breasts in the juice of one lemon, thyme, salt and a dash of olive oil, letting the chicken sit at room temperature. Set out three shallow bowls, filling the first one with a few tablespoons of flour, the second with 3 beaten eggs, and the final one with panko. The third should be the largest and deepest as the more panko coating the chicken, the better. 

Add a few dashes of salt, thyme and black pepper to the flour mixture. Finely peel and chop about a square inch of lemon rind (I used the rind of the lemon I had juiced for the marinade) and add to the panko mixture. 

Heat a heavy-bottomed skillet with olive oil in it until the oil is very hot but not smoking. I actually used the skillet I had used to cook the onions in for the potato salad without even bothering to wash it, and I think it gave the oil more depth of flavor.  

Dredge the chicken in flour, then the egg mixture and then fully cover in panko breadcrumbs. Prepare three pieces of chicken and then carefully place simultaneously in the skillet. Brown the chicken fully on one side (approximately 3-5 minutes) and carefully flip over and cook on the other side until the chicken is cooked through. 

Place the cooked chicken pieces in a baking pan, uncovered in a hot oven, and continue making the chicken until all the pieces are cooked. Serve with lemon wedges and German whole-grain mustard. 

Und so ist unser Abend gelaufen und zur Ende gekommen - ich wuensche Euch alle eine leckere Mahlzeit und viel Spass beim kochen. 

Liebe Gruesse und bis dem naechst. 

Morning smiles

Drinking my coffee and reading the Ann Arbor News just now, I came across the story for this charming shot that I had to take yesterday. 

Pas mal, non? It definitely put a smile on my face yesterday, as well as many other pedestrians. Jay definitely gets kudos for creativity. 

On a sad note, the Ann Arbor News, which we have subscribed to since I can remember, is closing down because of budgetary reasons, yet another victim of Michigan's economic malaise. The News is one of the oldest, continuously published papers in the country and Ann Arbor will be a lot worse off with out it. 

Jazzy Friday mornings

I have been meaning to write about my Tuesday night going-away soiree, and will do so over the weekend. En bref, like any weeknight party that ends at 2am with a Madonna dance-off * involving my vintage kid glove collection (best you don't ask or think about that too much, I believe it was while we were all "Vogue'ing"**) the evening was a success. 

I pity those of my friends, i.e. everyone else, who had to go into work a few hours later.  The amount of wine the last few of us polished off during the dancing portion of the evening was roughly equivalent to what the entire group drank during the more civilized eating and chatting portion. 

Oh well. It was the first party I threw at my parents' house, and, if they have their way, the last. 

But a good time was had by all, and I got to spend all of the following day under my duvet reacquainting myself with the holy trinity of hydrating, carbonating, and caffeinating (i.e. the ultimate cure for the morning after usually involving copious amounts of Coke or Sprite, naturally rounded off with starch, grease, and water) . Plus I got to watch the first season of 30 Rock which I had never seen, reaffirming my non-sexual crush on Tina Fey. She is one funny lady. 

While this blog is supposed to be primarily about cuisine, haute, homemade, or otherwise, I can't help but write about the most amazing concert I went to last night at the Michigan Theatre:

Jazz vocalist Kurt Elling doing a concert in honor of the 1963 John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman album. That particular album has lots of good memories for me, mostly of my freshman year roommate at Middlebury an amazing woman with an amazing music collection. I had been a huge Coltrane junkie until that point, but was not familiar with the Johnny Hartman collaboration until Xhingyu turned me on to it. I definitely teared up during more than one tune as I was reminded of smoking out our dorm room window, drinking coffee (me) or tea (her), and listening to music. It was how we spent a good chunk of our time together, over 12 years ago. 

Simply put, the concert was fantastic. The set of musicians included tenor saxophonist Ernie Watts, the Ethel String Quartet, and the Laurence Hobgood Trio. The highlight of the evening was the last performance where our local jazz legend came out to do a trio with Kurt Elling and Ernie Watts. All of them "played" the saxophone, be it literally the case of the Ernie or vocally for the other two. I had never heard male jazz vocal scat, much less imitating and keeping up with a saxophone's riffs. I can only describe it as surreal, fun and energetic, and technically mind-boggling. 

So all in all, a great night ending a great day, and reminding me of why I get a rush while listening to jazz. Jazz is spontaneous creation, no two jazz tunes when improvised sound exactly the same. Each performance is a unique creation of art that only exists in that moment. As a classically trained violinist, the ability to let go of the rigidity of following notes on a sheet of paper, and use a tune to reinvent, recreate and just play with around with is hugely inspirational. Frankly, it is something I've never had the balls to do. Once you leave the safety of the written page, your technique will only get you so far and you really have to trust your own musical instincts as well as those of the people you are playing with. 

But to all of you who might be on his up-coming tour dates, I would highly, highly, highly recommend seeing the show. 

* our dance off was much, much, much better. 

** luckily my vintage black sequined hot-pants collection was at the dry-cleaners, saving us all from what could be very embarrassing photos. . . 

Tasting Heaven on a Tuesday,

I might have found a new food-vice, which having just been consumed, has fallen into the category of can-no-longer-live-without. Ever. 

Alfajor Maitelates, a short-bread cookie filled with dulce de leche and covered in dark chocolate. Can any more perfect ingredients be combined any more exquisitely? 

At $3.00 a pop, plus the requisite chic-chic but very yummy coffee at Comet Coffee (where one procures these tastes of heaven, tack on another $2) and a visit to my tobacconist Maison Edwards (rapidly becoming my home away from home, in the same arcade as the coffee shop, tack on anywhere from $0.95 to $13.50 for a smoke) this vice might just have a big impact on my weekly budget, but one well worth it. 

Monday afternoon vices

I was reminded yet again during a phone conversation late last night, just how much I am going to miss my current life of leisure. Poverty aside, there is nothing quite as lovely as going to bed on a late Sunday night, knowing that the only thing you really have to do the following day is go to a doctor's appointment. And buy wine for your Tuesday night party. 

There might be, oh, say 40 items on your to-do-before-move list, but clearly many things are best done at the last minute, in a rushed way. Clearly. Plus, there is something to be said about the joys of a quiet Monday spent buying wine, planning a menu for the following evening's soiree, and watching such cinematic classics as What Happens in Vegas. On a non-food related sidebar, the movie was surprisingly cute, and you can turn your brain off the moment you sit down. Ah joyful life of leisure - how I am going to miss you!

My day of leisure began with an early morning  Hurenfruehstuck, followed by a toasted  Zingermans bagel (the Parmesan and black pepper is by far my favorite) with cream cheese, and then some bulghur pilaf and Swiss chard salad for lunch. All in all pretty healthy. 

And now, I am enjoying one of the few vices that I have. Okay, that's a lie. One of the many, many vices, but food-wise, truly one of the few. I know it is not good for me. And yet, there is that intangible pull it has on my taste buds that I have to enjoy every now and then.*

What is this magic delicacy you might ask yourself? Slices of pata negra served with the baguette flown in from my old bakery? Hand-cut french fries with homemade mayonnaise, raw eggs and all?** A glass of France's finest wine and and some cheeses such as  a generous slice of Morbier rounded off with a nice wedge of Fourme d'Ambert and some Crottin de Chavignol  served with a glass of Chateauneuf-du-Pape from La Bastide St. Dominique, that my friend Veronique's parents make themselves? 

My own secret vice is a tad more provincial/affordable and very, very mundane: 

A can of ice cold regular Coke.  

If an old fashioned glass bottle is available, you have hit the jackpot, but otherwise it must be in a can and not from a plastic bottle. Certainly not Pepsi, and definitely not Diet Coke, but regular ole' straight-out-of-the-fridge-served-on-ice-with-a-straw Coke. 

Growing up my parents would rarely (if ever) let my brother and I drink soda or eat junk food. In retrospect, it might be a great way to raise children. However at the time, I felt like the weird little girl with the weird name and the weird spinach pie for lunch. Ethnic hadn't quite become "in" until well after I left high school. And no, I am not bitter. 

I have since learned to deal with my inexplicable pull towards Cool Ranch Doritos, which I know really do taste awful and literally chemical. Yet once in a blue moon, just the smell of one brings back a flood of overwhelming childhood memories. I find myself in a frenzied daze either looking down at an empty bowl of chips at at someones party (very, very embarrassing) or a crumbled bag from the vending machine with every drop drained. Fortunately, my friends rarely serve Cool Ranch Doritos, and much like an alcoholic can never drink, so too should I never get near those chips. 

My relationship with Coke is less dysfunctional.  Somehow sweet sweet Coca Cola still has that zing for me and puts me in a good mood every time. It is the ultimate kick of carbonated sugary hydration and caffeine. What could be possibly wrong with that? 

Always Yours. 

*"every now and then" = approximately once a week. 

**  For those of you tsk tsking the addition of mayo to what is already a fatty little treat, let me say you don't know what you are missing. Especially if the fries are just big wedges of British chips doused in salt and vinegar. The Germans have a great saying, "wenn schon, denn schon," meaning if you're going to do it, you might as well do it all the way. Which might be one way of summing up both my Weltanschauung as well as recent diagnosis of hypertension. Hence the reduction of food-vices. 

*** Does anyone else find it fantastic that French AOC cheeses all have their own website? Surely there are better ways one could spend one's time then to browse such websites, yet only in France would they value their terroir as much, and you have to give them credit for not letting their food culture be swept up in a wave of global trends. 

Blogging

I resisted blogging for a long, long time, preferring to send impersonal group "update" messages from the various countries I was in about shenanigans, travel, and so on than actually publishing a website for the greater Internet community to hear from my oh-so-interesting inner monologue about about my oh-so-interesting life.

Ironically it is now, when my life has been at its most mundane (living in my parents' basement, in the town I grew up in, on unpaid leave), that the urge to write has been incessant. And I like to write about things I enjoy. And one thing I enjoy most is food. 

When I reflect on various highlights of my life, I most clearly remember the first Sauerbraten my host mom Angie made the year I was an exchange student in the village of Ruderting (600 inhabitants, I was probably the token non-Bavarian), the stuffed Turkish bell peppers my friend Anita and I cooked for Thanksgiving my junior year abroad in Paris, the first actual Thanksgiving turkey I cooked all by myself in Berlin (amazingly tender, a very possible reflection of the fact that I was in love ), the first meal I cooked for myself in Islamabad constructed entirely from goods from the Commissary (I believe frozen spinach, canned tomatoes and pasta were involved, as was a healthy dose of wine. The meal is pictured above.) And I could go on, and on, and on. . . 

For me food is memory. For better or worse, it is how I remember events in my life. And cooking is what I turn to when I need a stress relief, or just to enjoy the shear joy of touching fresh ingredients. And now that I have some fundamental and scary changes, cooking and food are going to be extremely useful both in terms of helping me look forward, cope with the corresponding anxiety, help me come to terms with the past, and remember those moments when life was happy, my stomach full, and tout etait bien.

So enjoy the blog as much or as little as you like. I would love to get feedback on the recipes as well as hear about your own experiences with food, but if you find it trite or dull, ben alors, personne ne sois obligee de le lire. However if there was/is someone who could tell me how to do umlauts and accents on letters, I would, naturally be eternally grateful. And my inner language nerd would sleep better at night.

Yours always,

E. 

PS - the francophone influence (both linguistic and in dishes to come) stems from the fact that while I did grow up with amazing food around me, I really started cooking for myself the year I studied in Paris (1999 - 2000) and for the first time lived in an apartment right behind the Place des Vosges with my friend Caroline. In my experience, food and cooking are fundamentally linked with that first experience of trying to be an adult and fending for myself. 

Hunkar Begendi - Sultan's Delight

Hunkar Begendi or Sultan's Delight in Turkish, refers to one of my all-time favorite dishes to cook and to eat. Hence the name of this blog. The dish, like many Ottoman dishes, has two stories associated with it, neither one of which has been verified. 

The first story says that the court chefs created the recipe for Sultan Murad IV in the early 17th Century. The Sultan enjoyed the meal so much that it was named Hunkar Begendi, literally translated as the Sultan liked it. The second story says the dish was named in honor of Empress Eugenie, the wife of Napoleon III. The pair visited the Ottoman Court in 1869, and sampled a dish which the Empress was immediately enamoured of. She had her personal chef go to the kitchen with measuring scales and notebook in hand, only to have the poor fellow thrown out by chefs who said a true recipe cannot be quantified. The Ottoman court was nonetheless so impressed by the Empresses liking of the dish, that it was named Hunkar (a gender-neutral word in Turkish for Sultan) Begendi. 

While finding their delivery a tad harsh, I would tend to agree with the chefs. True recipes, true cooking is not an exact science. So much depends on the very moment of cooking: the freshness of the ingredients, the cook's palate on that day, climate, mood, etc., etc. . . To cook, and to cook well for others means using all of your senses to create and refine an individual dish, which can never truly be replicated. 

That being said, here is how I usually make my Hunkar Begendi: 

Roast 2 large sized eggplants/aubergines in a well heated oven at 400F. 

(There are many different ways people prefer to roast their eggplants, and in Turkey the preferred method is to literally char grill the vegetable in and over an open fire. While this does increase the smokiness of the eggplant, it can also be messy and a tad dangerous. I prefer the lazy option of cutting the eggplants in half, placing them cut sized down on a lightly-oiled baking pan, and roasting the hell out of them. The skin can and should char in a few places, and you have to wait until the eggplant is completely cooked through and very soft.)

Gently peel the eggplants and put the cooked vegetable in a bowl on the side, mashing up any bits that are not already in pureed form. 

Saute some 1/2 a chopped onion and 3 - 4 cloves sliced garlic in olive oil in a heavy bottomed pan, until both are cooked through and translucent. It is better to slightly overcook and caramelize the mixture then to under cook it. Add approximately 1 - 1 1/2 pounds diced lamb shoulder (without too much of the fat removed) and braise meat on each side over high heat. Reduce the heat, adding approximately 1/2 cup chopped tomatoes, Turkish red pepper, and salt and pepper to taste to the mixture. Cover the mixture and let stew very, very slowly over low heat until meat is extremely tender, at least 1 hour. If you find that too much of the liquid is being absorbed during cooking, add water a few tablespoons at a time to rehydrate the meat. 

(For the less squeamish, the stew is excellent when prepared with veal, for the more squeamish, a very tender cut of beef works just as well.)

While the meat is cooking, make a basic bechamel sauce in a large frying pan or wok by melting approximately 4 tablespoons of butter  and a 4 tablespoons flour. Cook the flour through until it starts turning a light golden brown, and slowly whisk in approximately 1/2 cup milk. Once the mixture is smooth, add the reserved cooked eggplant and fold together. Add approximately 1/3 cup grated Kashar cheese, a hard sheep's-milk cheese from Turkey. Any hard and fairly mild sheep's or cow's milk cheese can be used. 

To serve the dish, spread the eggplant puree generously over a dinner plate. Spoon the lamb stew on top of the eggplant, et voila, bon appetite! 

Here is a picture courtesy of blog I found featuring some great Turkish recipes. Once I locate one, I will also add a picture of my mother's cafe's, Ayse's Cafe, version, which is consistently spectacular. 

Food thoughts, 2 of ?

"Convier quelqu'un c'est se charger de son bonheur pendant tout le temps qu'il est sous votre toit." 

"Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai ce que tu es."

"Heureux chocolat, qui apres avoir couru le monde, a travers le sourire des femmes, trouve la mort dans un baiser savoureux et fondant de leur bouche. "

Anthelme Brillat - Savarin 

weekend dinners a la casa

Weekend nights, especially Sundays, are family dinner nights at my house. We usually pair dinner with wine, accompanied by Sixty Minutes and The Simpsons. Pooh to those that say you cannot enjoy a good dinner with good TV, sometimes family dinners are best without conversation. 

Tonight was a Saturday instead of Sunday so we chatted, and enjoyed the following dishes: 

Swiss-chard and yogurt salad

Grilled Lamb Chops

Bulgur Rice with Zucchini, Peppers, Potatoes and Onions

Grilled Vegetables

Pinot Grigio

Swiss-chard and yogurt salad (pazi salatasi)

Wash, spin, and dry 2 - 3 bunches swiss-chard leaves and finely chop them

Sautee the swiss-chard in olive oil until just cooked and leaves are wilted but still bright

Put swiss chard in a large mixing bowl, and let cool. 

Add approximately 1 - 2 cups on stirred plain  yogurt (preferably organic or Greek), 1 - 2 cloves pressed garlic, and salt to taste. 

Put salad in serving plate, drizzle with extra-virgin olive oil, and serve

Bulgur Rice with vegetables

Toast 1 1/2 cups of large-grain bulgur in butter until  bulgur is lightly toasted. 

Add approximately 1/2 chopped onion, 3-4 sliced garlic cloves, 1 potato cut in small square pieces,  1 zucchini cut in match-stick sized pieces, and 1-2 cups sliced mushrooms and continue to saute in the same pot for approximately 5-6 minutes. 

Add 3 cups boiling water to the pot, red pepper, dried mint, salt and pepper to taste and a large spoonful of red-pepper paste. Stir well, allow to boil, and reduce heat to a simmer. Cook over low heat until all of the liquid is absorbed. Let bulgur sit for approximately 2-3 minutes, fluff with a fork, and serve. 

Lamb chops

Marinate trimmed lamb chops in olive oil, a little lemon juice, salt, red pepper, and garlic. Let sit at room temperature for 1 - 2 hours. 

Fire-up outdoor grille, once grille is very hot cook lamb to desired doneness, approximately 3 - 4 minutes on each side for medium-rare. 

Let the meat sit on a platter for a few minutes before serving.