Çiroz | İstanbul Ansiklopedisi

Çiroz
İstanbul Ansiklopedisi | Pages 4035-36

Uskumru balığının yumurtasını attıktan sonraki zayıflamış hálindeki adı. Uskumrunun İstanbul sularında av zamanı kasım başından mart sonuna kadardır; nisan başından mayıs sonuna kadar tutulan uskumrular, yumurtasını atmış, çirozlaşmış balıklardır. Çirozun eti yağsız, lezzetsiz olduğu için táze olarak yenilmesine pek rağbet edilmez, tutulan balıklar kendine mahsus usul ile kurutulduktan sonra (bir çeşit pastırması yapıldıktan sonra) yiyecek maddeleri piyasasına verilir. Çirozun kurutulması usulünü Karakin Bey Deveciyan ‘‘Balık ve Balıkçılık’’ isimli muhalled eserinde şöyle anlatıyor:

‘‘Kurutulacak balık çok olur ise kulak ve bağırsakları çekilmeksizin ve balıklar az olduğu zaman kulak ve bağırsakları çekildikden ve kuyruklarından çift çift bağlandıktan sonra büyük fıçılara konulur, beher bin adedi için 15 kilo tuz serpilip 8-10 saat bırakılır. Bu müddet zarfında balıklardan akan su, kan ve tuzdan hásıl olan salamura, balıkların üstüne çıkıp kapatır; bu salamura dökülür, balıklar fıçılardan alınır, kulak ve bağırsakları çekildikden sonra kuyruklarından kınnabla ikişer ikişer bağlanıp 40-50 çift bir dizi yapılır, tuzda kaç saat yatmış ise, o kadar müddet deniz suyunda bırakılır, sonra çıkarılıp sergi tábir olunan iskelelere gerilmiş sicimlere asılır ve kuruyuncaya kadar güneşde bırakılır. Hava müsaid, sıcak olursa beş günde kurur ki, en makbul çiroz bunlardır. kararsız havalarda on beş günde ancak kurur, bu çirozlar muteber değildir. 2-3 gün rutubetli, sisli havaya rastlayan çirozlar bozulur; renkleri solukdur ve piyasada makbul değildir. Balıklar ne kadar taze olursa, kurusu o derece nefis ve kıymetli olup bayat balıklardan yapılan çirozların gözleri kırmızı, rengi solukdur, hiç makbul değildir.

‘‘Seçme, büyük kıt`ada olan çirozlara Kırma Çiroz denilir; balığı da taze ise en makbul çirozdur.
‘‘Kuru çirozlar sepetler içinde istif olarak saklanır, istenilen yere sevk edilir.
‘‘Tuzunu itidal ile almış ve güzelce kurumuş olan çirozlar bir buçuk sene dayanır, nefásetini muhafaza eder.

‘‘Balıklar sergide iken devamlı yağmur yağar ise, balıkları bozmaz, fakat tuzunu alır götürür, o suretle bozulması yolunu açar, yağmurdan sonra balıkları sergiden indirmek tekrar tuzlamak lázımdır; fakat yağmur görmüş çiroz artık diğer çirozlardaki nefaseti muhafaza edemez.’’
Kuru çiroz, içki sofrası mezesidir; bilhassa bira ile yenilir, rakı sofrasına gelir. Umumiyetle iki türlü yenilir; ateşde kebap edilir, kavuzları dövülüp atılır, etleri sıcak sıcak, bir nevi pastırma gibi yenilir. Yáhud kebap ettikten sonra etleri tiftiklenir, bir tabağa konulur, üzerine dere otu serpilip sirke dökülerek ‘‘çiroz salatası’’ yapılır.

Bir çeşit yeniş tarzı daha vardır ki, halk arasında pek yayılmamışdır; bir ziyafet sofrası sürprizi olabilir.

Sofra ihtiyacına göre çirozlar sabahleyin ateşe gösterilip kebap edildikten sonra dövülür, kavuzu atılır, başı atılır, yalnız karnından yarılarak, sırta dokunulmaz, kuyruğa bağlı iki kalem halinde açılır, kılçığı alınıp suya veya sirkeye atılır, birkaç saat yattıktan sonra alınır, yumuşak durması için nemli beze sarılır. İşret sofrasına çıkarılacağı zaman, sırttan bitişik o iki kalemden mürekkeb çiroz galeta ununa ve yumurtaya bulanıp tavaya atılır; kızarınca tavadan alınarak sofraya gelir.

REŞAD EKREM KOÇU
Kaynak: (İstanbul Ansiklopedisi. Sayfa: 4035-36)

Food Steps from Mavi Boncuk

Mavi Boncuk Blogger was launched on May 03, 2004 by M.A. Munir as a Blog for past and present source material and comments on Turcomania and Ottomania and published many food related items. Tastes of Mavo Boncuk continues this specialty area now. Here is an archive of old articles from Mavi Boncuk.

Food Steps | Adana Kebab
The mysterious origin of narghile
The Glowing Warmth of a Brazier
Food Steps | Moorish culinary contribution
Moorish culinary contribution
Cheers! Turkish Raki
Article | Turkish opium, 1828-1839
From Cappuccino to Croissant
MUSA DAGDEVIREN
Ali Muhiddin Haci Bekir
Coffeehouse Bremen, 1673
Cafe Italia 1654
The History of Turkish coffee
Coffeehouse Le Procope, Paris
Coffeehouse USA
Kaffeehaus in Vienna
Coffeehouse, Oxford, England,
Claudia Roden: The Book of Jewish Food
Filo facts
CHAI KURDI (KURDISH TEA)
Food and Culture
Armenian Food Terminology
Beyond Baklava
The History of Baklava
The Ottoman Spoons

When Milk Sleeps, TURKISH CHEESES

When Milk Sleeps, TURKISH CHEESES

By Artun Unsal


The traditional pastoral diet based on meat and dairy products
continued to be the backbone of the Turkish cuisine even after Turkish
tribes made the transition from a nomadic to a settled existence as
farmers from the 9th century onwards. Among the Turks of Kashgar, for
instance, animal products were the principal elements of nutrition,
even though they also consumed wheat and flour.

This is reflected in the 11th century Turkish dictionary, Divanu
Lugat-it-Turk, written by Mahmut of Kashgar between 1072 and 1074, in
which he cites the words udma and udhitma for fresh cheese, and
translates the Turkish sentence "Ol udhitma udhitti " as "He made
cheese". The verb udhitmak originated from Uighur Turkish and meant to
put to sleep, to make solid or to leaven, so etymology reveals the
delightful idea of milk solidified into fresh cheese being sleeping
milk .

The modern Turkish word for cheese, peynir, first occurs in the Book of
Dede Korkut, a collection of orally transmitted legends which were
first written down in the 12th and 13th centuries. Evidently this word
first entered the Turkish language following the migration from Central
Asia. The Turkmen tribes knew how to make several different varieties
of cheese and must have adopted this new term for them on their way
westwards through Iran or after their arrival in Anatolia.

Anatolia already had its own cheeses originating in antiquity. Writing
about the northwestern region today encompassing Bolu, Izmit and Iznik,
the famous historian Strabo says, "In the interior of Bithynia above
Tieion is Salona, where alone are the finest pastures for cattle and
where Salonites cheese is made."

In his history of the Ottoman dynasty, Ashikpashazade (1400-1484)
writes that Osman Gazi gave gifts of cheese, dried yogurt, fat and
clotted cream to the Byzantine rulers of Bilecik in return for
protecting the property left behind in their winter settlements by the
Ottoman tribes in their seasonal migrations to the summer pastures with
their herds.

The Code of Law issued in 1502 by Beyazit II gives the names of cheeses
from all over the Ottoman Empire which were sold in the markets of
Istanbul: fresh lor cheese, kaba lor cheese, fresh dil cheese, fresh
cayir cheese, Mudurnu cheese, Shumnu cheese, Karaman cheese, Sofia
cheese, Eshme cheese, Midilli (Mytilene) cheese, teleme cheese, cheese
in brine (white or feta cheese), Limni (Limnos) tulum cheese (cheese
made in a goatskin bag), Izmit tulum cheese, Rumelia tulum cheese,
fresh kashkaval cheese, and Balkan kashkaval cheese.

Today there is a general misconception among Turkish urban dwellers
that Turkey does not possess a wide range of cheeses. This is because
few regional cheeses find their way into city shops. In fact there are
a great many varieties, many little known outside the area where they
are made, a finding which is not surprising in a land which has been
home to many civilisations over thousands of years.

I will begin a brief tour of Turkey's cheeses with cokelek, made from
the whey left over from the cheese making. The people of Anatolia who,
as the expression has it squeeze bread out of a stone , neglect none
of milk's potential and process it in every possible way. Even the
greenish yellow liquid known as whey left over from making cheese or
lor (a soft curd cheese) from the milk is not discarded. When the whey
is boiled up a new curd known as cokelek or cokelik forms.

Apart from the plain cokelek cheese sold in Turkey's large city markets
and shops, there are many interesting regional varieties which are
either eaten fresh or preserved by pressing into goatskin bags or
pottery jars, or alternatively dried in the sun. Some examples of these
are nebolu sut cokele i, Giresun cokelegi which is used as a filling
for the famous Black Sea pide (thinly rolled bread dough with various
fittings on top baked in the oven), Rize's kurci cheese which is eaten
with corn bread for breakfast, Kars cokelek which is used as a filling
for layered pastries and in salads, the jaji cheese of Bitlis, Afyon's
Emirda cokelek which is preserved in lambskins, the Kirk Tokmak
["fourty pestle"] cheese of Milas, and Hatay tulum ["goatskin bag"] cokelek
which is mixed with fresh thyme and black cumin seeds.

A close relative of cokelek is kurut, dried bricks of yogurt made of
low-fat milk or of cokelek made from buttermilk. In some regions kurut
is known as kesh. Since it has a lower fat content it keeps well. Some
of the best known regional varieties are the kurut of Kars and Bitlis,
the surk (dried cokelek) of Hatay, the kesh of Mengen and Giresun, and
the dried cokelek of Aydin.

Lor is a soft fresh cheese, a relative of the somewhat harder textured
Ricotta of Italy and the Greek Myzithra and Anthotiro. It is produced
by dairies making kashar (a hard yellow cheese) from sheep's milk. Lor
with a variety of flavours is also made in rural homes from the whey
left over from cheese making.

Lor is eaten without salt or very slightly salted, so it does not keep
well. It is an ingredient of various savoury dishes, layered borek
pastries and puddings. For breakfast or as a snack fresh lor is
delicious with sugar, honey or jam.

The lor of Kirklareli made from kashar whey is well known to
connoisseurs, and other delicious varieties are the lor of
Mustafakemalpa a (near Bursa), Manyas in Balikesir, and above all of
Savashtepe, all made from Mihalic cheese whey.

There are cheeses common to both sides of the Aegean. For example, the
fresh lor cheese of Ayvalik in Balikesir is left to drain in a basket
mould and eaten fresh, like its counterpart on the island of Mytilene.
The Kirlihanim cheese made from lor in Ayvalik, Foca and Karaburun is
also made in Greece. When mixed with strained yogurt and olive oil it
makes an hors d'oeuvre fit for a pasha. The kopanisti of Ceshme and
Karaburun is another shared element of Aegean cuisine.

Other regional varieties of lor cheese in Turkey are Antalya lor
cheese, Kars kurtlu ["larvaed"] cheese, the kurtlu lor of Yusufeli in
Artvin, the Minzi cheese of Camlihemshin in Rize, Trabzon Minzi cheese
and tel karishik ["string mixed"] cheese, and Rize's ayran ["buttermilk"]
cheese.

By far the most widely consumed type of cheese in Turkey is white
cheese ["feta cheese"], which can be eaten fresh or after maturing in
brine. Teleme is a type of white cheese made almost everywhere in
Turkey by straining the pressed curds, sometimes in a bag hung from the
ceiling. Soft, high fat white cheeses made usually of ewe's milk in the
northwestern regions of Trakya and Marmara are the most highly
esteemed. The high-quality ewe's milk of Ezine, Biga and the area
around Edirne means that their white cheese pickled in brine is superb.
Antalya's white cheese made of a mixture of goat's and cow's milk also
deserves mention.

Cheeses mixed with herbs are a subdivision of the white cheese family,
and traditionally made of ewe's or goat's milk, but in recent years of
a mixture of these with cow's milk. To the white cheese is added 15
percent or less wild herbs. These cheeses have always been well known
in eastern and southeastern Anatolia (Kars, Agri, Diyarbakir, Van,
Siirt, Hakkari, Mush and Bitlis), and are becoming increasingly
familiar in Turkey's major cities.

There are many varieties of these herb cheeses. That made in Van
contains wild garlic, while that of Bitlis contains a local herb known
as sof otu which grows in damp situations. Horse mint (Mentha
longifolio) and Pimpinella rhodentha are other herbs used.

Fresh cheese spoils quickly, which is why preservation processes such
as pickling in brine, pressing into skins, being left to mature under
soil or sand or in caves, or lightly blueing with mould have
developed.

Tulum cheese - cheese preserved in a goatskin (hairy side outwards) -
is widely made everywhere in Turkey apart from Trakya. The finest are
those of Erzincan, Erzurum and the alpine pastures of the Toros
mountains dividing central Anatolia from the Mediterranean coast.

Kashkaval (fresh kashar) and mature kashar are dense textured cheeses
native to Anatolia, which is where the Turks made their acquaintance.
The most famous is the kashar of Trakya, which is moulded into drums 16
cm high and 30 cm in diameter and weighing 11-12 kilos. Other fine
kashars are those of Mush, Bayburt, and Trabzon's Kadirga and Tonya
districts.

Dil ["tongue"], Cerkez ["Circassian"] and Abaza ["Abkhaz"] cheese, tel
(literally string ) cheeses, and orme (braided) cheeses are other
notable varieties which I can do no more than mention here. But I would
like to end with what in my opinion is the king of Turkish cheeses,
mihalic. This cheese is made in the provinces of Balikesir and Bursa of
full-fat, unpasteurised milk from the kivircik sheep. It is white in
colour, characterised by bubble holes 3-4 mm in diameter, and with a
hard irregular rind 2-3 mm thick. It is extremely well flavoured and
keeps well. Hard, mature mihalic cheese is in no way inferior to
Italy's famous Parmesan cheese when grated over pasta dishes.

Diversity of cheese types is influenced by four main factors: cultural
habits and tastes, natural conditions, the species and variety of
animal providing the milk, and production methods. This is equally true
of Turkey, where scores of local cheeses in every region are now
beginning to be discovered, putting the country on the cheese map at
last.

* Prof. Dr. Artun Unsal, lecturer at Galatasaray University.

Behind the mystique of Turkish olive oil

Behind the mystique of Turkish olive oil by Sam Gugino

Special to MSN

You've probably consumed Turkish olive oil on a number of occasions and don't
even know it. How's that? Turkey is the fourth- or fifth-largest producer of
olive oil in the world, after Spain, Italy, Greece, and sometimes Tunisia,
depending on the harvest. But as with much of the olive oil in Spain and
Tunisia, Turkish olive oil is often sent to Italy to be repackaged and sold as
if it were Italian olive oil.

Then there are brands such as Cavallo d'Oro, which sounds very Italian. But this
is a Turkish oil that was shipped to the United States and given an Italian name
to make it easier to sell. After all, most Americans when faced with a choice
would buy an Italian olive oil ? or one that sounds like an Italian olive oil ?
in a heartbeat over a Turkish olive oil (or Spanish, or Greek or Tunisian oil
for that matter).

On a trip to Turkey in April 2000, I was amazed to find out how many olive oil
containers with labels that look very Italian actually contain Turkish olive
oil. At Taris, the largest olive oil producer in Turkey, there was an entire
room containing cans and bottles with names like Bella, Giorgio, Selesta,
Antonia ? Turkish oils all.

But organizations such as the European Economic Community and the International
Olive Oil Council (of which Italy is a member but Turkey is not) and the World
Customs Organization are changing all that. As a result of their efforts, we are
starting to see the origins of olive oils on cans and bottles, albeit in very
fine print.

But that's only half the battle. The other half is to put Turkish names on
Turkish oils to be sold in the United States. In this regard, Turkey is moving
in the same direction as Spain, though it is several years behind. While still
selling olive oil to Italian and American producers, who will repackage it,
Spain is increasingly keeping its best oils for Spanish labels. At the time of
my trip, I was told that the only Turkish-labeled olive oil in the United States
was made by Taris. Subsequently, I was sent a bottle of Olive Farm olive oil, an
estate-bottled Turkish oil. You can buy it by mail order at 1-888-380-8018.

Behind Extra Virgin Oil

How good is Turkish olive oil? In general, the oils I tasted were quite pleasant
but not exceptional. They are the kind of oils you would use for everyday
cooking, especially since the price is generally reasonable. Ironically, the two
best oils I sampled are not yet available in the United States. One is from one
of the largest producers of table olives in Turkey, Ardes, which sells most of
its olives to Europe, especially Germany. The brand name of the Ardes olive oil
is Zeyno and it is sold only in two company stores, one in the city of Izmir,
the other in Istanbul.

The second oil is made by Dr. Yahya Laleli, who is as passionate about making
olive oil as Robert Mondavi is about making wine. Laleli, who is a physician and
owns a laboratory testing company, has bought small olive presses and other
equipment from Italy. He has also had his oil tested by the Amministrazione
Provinciale di Siena in Tuscany to verify that the oil meets Italian standards
as extra virgin oil.

(Extra virgin oil must have less than 1 percent oleic acid, a monounsaturated
fatty acid that studies show lowers overall blood cholesterol and raises
high-density lipoproteins, or the "good" component of cholesterol. Oils that
have between 1 percent and 3 percent oleic acid are considered to be virgin
oils. Oils previously labeled "pure" and now simply called "olive oil" are
refined oils and contain 1 percent to 1.5 percent oleic acid. Most olive oil
sold in the United States is pure. The rest is extra virgin. Little or no virgin
oil is seen in the United States because virgin oil is typically added back to
the refined "olive oil" to bring its oleic acidity down and to add some of the
flavor that was lost in the refining process.)

Laleli extra virgin olive oil could easily fetch $20 a 750-ml bottle in a
gourmet shop in the United States. The reasons for this quality are not
surprising. Laleli does what quality olive oil producers in Tuscany do. (In
fact, he's had his olives tested and has found they are the same as those used
in Tuscany.) Laleli scrupulously avoids using any damaged olives because even a
few bad olives can spoil the taste of top quality extra virgin oil. He uses cold
pressing, never above 37 degrees Centigrade, because heat (as well as light and
air) are the enemies of olive oil. To retain maximum flavor Laleli doesn't
filter his oil but allows any sediment to gradually settle to the bottom of
storage tanks. The resulting oil is transported by gravity for bottling because
pumping can damage the delicacy of the oil. If Turkish olive oil wants to make
any significant strides in quality, more producers will have to follow Laleli's
lead.

Laleli also makes a delicious garlic oil that is superior to any I've tasted.
The reason is that he presses the garlic with the olives to integrate the taste.
He does the same with mandarin oranges for a lovely oil that would be perfect on
salads. If you're ever in Ankara, the capital of Turkey, look for Laleli's
store, Korfez 'den, which is the only place where his oils are available.

Health Benefits

Most of the Turkish olive oil producers I talked to were quick to point out the
heart-healthy benefits of olive oil. As a physician, Laleli was particularly
conscious of olive oil's health benefits, contained primarily in its antioxidant
properties. To keep his oil's antioxidant properties as high as possible, Laleli
picks his olives early (usually in November) because as olives mature, their
antioxidants go down. He also tries to pick at night, while the olives are cool.
And he processes them immediately, before they are allowed to ferment.

Incidentally, Laleli was at odds with other Turkish olive oil producers on one
major aspect of olive oil's health benefits. It has long been assumed that one
gets the health benefits of olive oil whether the oil is heated for cooking or
used at room temperature, in salads for example. However, Laleli contends that
most of olive oil's antioxidant properties are obtained only when the oil is
used in its raw state. This makes sense, since heat breaks down the flavor of
olive oil as well.

Laleli's facility is located near the town of Taylieli in the area of Ayvalik
along the Aegean, the prime olive oil producing region in Turkey. (Olives and
oil are also produced on the southern coast of Turkey along the Mediterranean.)
Though some 86 varieties of olives are grown in Turkey, the Edremit olive is the
primary one for olive oil.

Sam Gugino writes a food column for Wine Spectator magazine. He is former food
editor of the San Jose Mercury News and has also written for The New York Times,
Cooking Light and other publications.

How to Eat Well in Istanbul by Anya von Bremzen

How to Eat Well in Istanbul
Turkey's largest city is the ultimate culinary crossroads, a food lover's great adventure
By Anya von Bremzen

Gypsy mackerel and fresh walnuts are in season when I arrive in Istanbul. As my plane rattles along the runway I flash back to the most bewitching meal of my life: breakfast on an Istanbul commuter ferry. A single cucumber and a fistful of olives. Dense, chewy bread rings slathered with salty cheese. Sweet black tea. Perhaps it was the Bosporus breeze, or that fabled skyline doused in pink light. I remember being intoxicated with pleasure-- savoring Byzantium, picnic in hand.

That was more than a decade ago. I've returned several times since, and, I have to confess, it's not the mythical ocher glow of Hagia Sophia, or even the thrill of plucking a perfect kilim from the mercantile bowels of the Covered Bazaar that lures me back. No, it's the Istanbul of that sweet tea, sipped from a tulip glass in the sensuous shade of a çay bahçesi (tea garden); harborside lunches of silvery fish; the infectious aromas of grilling; the ambrosial sweetness of Anatolian melons. It's the dozen-leaf pastries in fragrant syrup-- and the thousand and one secrets of Ottoman seasoning.

Sultan's Pantry
Actually, the Ottoman cult of the kitchen bordered on the absurd. When Sultan Mehmed II, called Fatih (the Conqueror), erected the Topkapi Palace shortly after plundering Christian Constantinople in 1453, he equipped it with a domed kitchen so vast you could mistake it for the imperial mosque. And that from a man famous for dining solo! At the height of the empire, separate battalions of cooks were assigned to kebabs and pilafs, to pancakes, candies, and drinks-- plus a small battery for each of the six varieties of halvah. Sauces were plotted as though they were conquests; janissaries-- the sultan's elite troops-- discussed state matters around a stewpot, or kazgan; and imperial chefs rose to become viziers.

The Ottoman Empire collapsed in 1923. But Turkish dedication to the wealth of its cuisine lives on, in unassuming neighborhood restaurants, epic kebab houses, rickety waterfront fish shacks, and glamorous dining rooms overlooking the Bosporus. To the traveler with an appetite for Mediterranean flavors, Istanbul, where Europe ends and Asia begins, offers a last great adventure.

Bosporus Breezes
Exhausted after a 10-hour flight, I sentence myself to the luxury of the Four Seasons, a former prison recently reborn as an exquisite small hotel just steps from the Hagia Sophia. My friend John is due to arrive later that night.

A sweet voice on the telephone: "Anya, dear! Do you need Bosporus air? My driver can pick you up at seven." It's Engin, a local food critic I met recently in Crete. Throughout our weeklong stay, she will tend to us with unflagging zeal-- Turkish hospitality personified.

Of course I need Bosporus air.

Forty minutes of screeches, hoots, and jolts take me to Bebek-- a genteel neighborhood of tilting wooden villas and fashionable open-air cafés, home to patrician businessmen and foreign diplomats. At the restaurant Yeni Bebek, Engin greets me with gifts and kisses and speeches on Turkish cuisine. We sit on a creaky terrace right on the water, grazing on fried calamari and eggplant dips, and sipping raki, an aniseed-flavored firewater. A stately waiter anoints the grilled fish-- small, delicate gypsy mackerel (technically, baby bonito) and lüfer, a rich bluefish from the Black Sea-- with reverential trickles of olive oil. Engin chuckles. "For centuries we've been cooking with olive oil, but what did it take for us to notice it? A vogue for Italian food!"

A Walk Around Beyoglu
The next morning John and I meet our friend Ferda for a spin around her stomping ground, old Pera, or present-day Beyoglu (pronounced bea-ho-loo). This former European quarter, with its weathered grand hotels and resplendent ex-embassies, gradually took on a sleazy cast. Then in 1990, its main boulevard, Istiklal, was closed to traffic, cleaned up, and transformed into a pulsating thoroughfare. Now you can shop for expensive scarves at Vakko, Istanbul's answer to Barneys; dive into a murky alley for sheep-knuckle soup; collect 19th-century prints from one of many antique shops; then bob to techno at an after-hours club.

The heartbeat of Beyoglu is Balik Pazar, a cacophonous market stuffed with everything edible, and some things that don't quite look it. While the Spice Bazaar in the Old City is pure Ottoman Stamboul, Balik Pazar and the famous Çiçek Pasaji, an arcade fashioned on Parisian models, are relics of turn-of-the-century cosmopolitan Constantinople.

I unleash years of cravings for Istanbul food in Beyoglu's clamorous side streets. At Hüsseyinin we join gaggles of shadowy men for straight-off-the-grill meatballs, or köfte. A search for su börek-- a lasagna-like wonder of dough stacks and salty cheese-- lands us in Lades. With spick-and-span tiles, hunched-up old regulars, and daily specials ordered from bubbling pots in the kitchen, it's an archetypal lokanta, or family-run restaurant. At Babane, a cute new café down the block, a pair of women decked out in folkloric gear squat on raised platforms to knead, roll, and fold dough into gözleme, marvelous turnovers stuffed with spinach, potato, or cheese.

Ferda takes us to her own eggnog-yellow café, Zencefil (ginger), which specializes in vegetables. After spending some years in Montreal, Ferda introduced Istanbul residents to quiche ("First they spat, then they came back for seconds"). We're too full to eat, so we return another day for big bowls of Aegean tomato soup accompanied by herb-flecked bread, black-eyed-pea salad with pomegranate dressing, eggplant börek, and a great baked pear stuffed with a plum. At the next table, lipstick mavens sip ginger lemonade, absorbed in Turkish Marie Claire. It could be London or Paris, but then that's what Beyoglu has always aspired to.

Best Meat
"Five years ago, kebabs were considered plebeian, now they're all the rage," an Istanbul friend insists. I believe it when Engin and her husband, Nuri, invite us to dinner with an airline president, a hotelier, and a shipping-magnate couple with his and hers fleets. The place? Develi, a modest kebab house that threads legendary skewers, in the quaint lower-middle-class neighborhood of Samatya.

Develi has all the charm of a departures lounge in a third-world airport: bright lights, bare walls, commotion. Its five floors are jam-packed with turbaned clerics, clerks in crumpled suits, and endlessly extending families rubbing shoulders with Japanese tourists and platinum-card-holding CEO's.

The mezes (hors d'oeuvres) are wonderful, from tabbouleh-like frig ("made with wheat harvested when it's still milky and dried over charcoal smoke," Engin explains) to a beguiling sweet-and-sour concoction of mashed tomatoes and pomegranate molasses. But it's Develi köfte we're after-- meatballs of lamb painstakingly ground by hand and grilled to succulent perfection. We try pistachio köfte, smoky pillows punctured by nuts; çig köfte, spicy raw lamb wrapped in lettuce; onion köfte; sesame köfte; and ali nazik, köfte sizzled with paprika-hued butter and served on a bed of thick yogurt. Each meatball is a short essay in texture.

I sigh. After this mincemeat epiphany, burgers are ruined forever.

Looking
for Perfect Fish
Eating fish on the Bosporus-- a narrow strait that separates Europe from Asia, connecting the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara-- is a quintessential Istanbul pleasure, but trying to find the right place can be downright maddening. Restaurant recommendations are as abundant as carpet shops, and they usually go something like this: "Definitely try X. The waiters are sweet, the atmosphere precious; we've eaten there forever. But the food . . . " A shrug. Of course, there is the glamorous Körfez, where honeymooning John F. Kennedy Jr. feted his bride. But bookings are hard to come by, even though locals dismiss it as touristy.

A cheaper and more diverting option is to take a sightseeing ferry from Eminönü, where the Golden Horn begins, to the last stop, Anadolu Kavagi-- a village on Istanbul's Asian side suffused with the smell of frying mussels and grilling fish. We lunch at Yosun, which looks out on a tangle of water taxis, fishermen's dinghies, ferries, and yachts festooned with wriggling garlands of mischievous boys. The fish is simple and fresh, and nothing special, so we keep looking.

We finally catch up with our gilled Holy Grail-- a perfect sea bass, moist, charred, and pearlescent-- at Feriye, a smart waterside restaurant in the arty neighborhood of Ortaköy. Even with its view of the ornate Ortaköy mosque, Feriye feels like a Santa Monica brasserie. But it won't for much longer. Vedat Basaran, the ambitious impresario behind Istanbul's current Ottoman revival, plans to convert the restaurant (his 29th) into a temple of imperial gastronomy. To prove the gravity of his intentions, he tips a dusty pile of cookbooks onto our table. "Rare editions . . . in Arabic, English, Old Ottoman . . ." We sneeze, grin respectfully, then tuck back into our fish.

High Life with a View
If one could eat views, Istanbul-- with its dialogue of shore and strait, its magical skyline boosted by rocketlike minarets, its nighttime glimmer of water traffic-- would offer the world's most sumptuous banquet. But even in a city where panoramic restaurants are as ubiquitous as kebab dives, Ulus 29 redefines tip-top dining.

The restaurant is announced by a steep driveway lined with luxury German sedans. This glassed-in semicircular space offers a wide-angle view of the two Bosporus bridges. Ulus is buzzing with first dates, company banquets, diplomatic dinners-- and that's on a weeknight. But then, the proprietor, Metin Fadillioglu, is the grand vizier of Istanbul high life.

The setting, designed by his wife, Zeynep, deftly reprises this Eurasian city: lush, mismatched upholstery and crisp white linens; nooks and crannies garnished with Orientalist Neoclassical objets; mosque lanterns cheek by jowl with trendy lamps from London. Zeynep's eye for detail runs in the family: her cousin is London-based fashion designer Rifat Ozbek.

"Panoramic dining experience" is, of course, a code phrase for lousy food. I hold my breath as we order. Whew . . . our choices don't embarrass the view.

Thoroughly modern meze By Anya von Bremzen

Thoroughly modern meze
By Anya von Bremzen, Special to The Times

ISTANBUL -- By 11 p.m., the street theater on Nevizade Street, a narrow lane lined with outdoor restaurants around Istanbul's fish market, works up to a kind of Felliniesque mayhem. Flower sellers push big thorny roses at passersby's noses, while a Gypsy quartet cranks background music for a parade of street peddlers.

Amid this carnival, waiters unload trays of small dishes on tables and refill glasses with raki, Turkey's favorite anise-based liquor. Our own table, at an old Armenian restaurant called Boncuk, is mosaicked with plates of dips, crisp fish croquettes redolent of allspice and cinnamon, a chickpea pâté layered with dried currants and pine nuts, and a majestic börek, a pastry oozing a tangy filling of cheese and pastirma, or spiced cured beef.

These are meze, Turkey's signature little dishes and the Middle East's answer to Spanish tapas, Venetian baccari or Mexican antojitos.

On our own shores, meze offer yet another twist on the small-plates trend. Entertaining at home? Meze could have been invented for Southern California, where, much like in Istanbul, they can be languidly savored al fresco on the patio. Less fussy than hors d'oeuvres, a welcome break from Italian antipasti, infinitely more varied than hummus and baba ghanouj, a few meze together make an exciting light feast.

Meze — the name is derived from the Persian word maza, or flavor — seem to flourish in Istanbul as an edible life force: from a plethora of eggplant preparations to a veritable encyclopedia of dolma, or stuffed vegetables; from multitudes of böreks, savory pastries, to a vast roster of salads and dips. They can be cold or hot, light or substantial, as humble as a wedge of salty white cheese or as chichi as the langoustine salads dished out at the glamorous fish restaurants along the Bosphorus shores. Though most travelers to Turkey encounter meze at restaurants, they taste even better when prepared at home. "Meze is all about socializing — nibbling, drinking, laughing," says Gökçan Adar, an Istanbul food writer. One breezy night, under a sour cherry tree in his overgrown garden, he treats us to a 19-dish meze marathon.

Spontaneity is essential

Typical of modern-day Istanbul, where the cuisine evolves with lightning speed, his spread is both creative and classic: braised eggplant topped with a flourish of walnut and sun-dried tomato paste, langoustines with their roe resting atop lemony wild greens, fritters of just-picked zucchini flowers on a vibrant red pepper purée. This could almost be Catalonia — or California. Not to be outdone, my friend Engin Akin, a food writer and radio host legendary in Istanbul for her swank soirees, throws a bash on the lawn of her home overlooking the Bosphorus. Ever willing to experiment, Akin deep-fries paper-thin leaves of yufka (a phyllo-like dough) and serves the crisps with shavings of Turkish cured mullet roe similar to bottarga. She fashions nifty bruschetta from the ubiquitous fava bean pâté, topping the toasts with fried almonds.

Grazing gets more cosmopolitan still when Akin and I move on to Bodrum, a jet-set resort on the Aegean. Here, at a cocktail party at the white-washed villa of a shipping tycoon, white-gloved waiters pass such dainties as miniature French fry "kebabs," Gruyère köfte (meatballs), and spicy sucuk (soujuk) sausage wrapped in phyllo.

In Turkey, meze are intimately linked with the city's history as a cosmopolitan port and to drinking establishments called meyhane.

What — drinking in a Muslim culture, with its Koranic prohibitions on alcohol? Well … sure.

Even before Kemal Atatürk secularized Turkey in the 1920s, restrictions on alcohol were sporadic, a whim of one sultan or another. Selling alcohol was taboo, though, entrusted to Istanbul's numerous non-Muslim minorities: Greeks, Armenians and Jews. It was they who established the original meyhane, raucous dives packed with foreign sailors, where meze was an excuse for another round of raki. Dating back to early Ottoman times or even further, meyhane continue to thrive.

To learn more, I rendezvous with Akin and Deniz Gursoy, an author of books on raki and meze, at Safa, the city's oldest meyhane. With whirling fans, burnished mirrors and pictures of Atatürk striking Hollywood poses, the place feels like a souvenir from another era. When Safa opened some 125 ago, Gursoy explains, meze came free with consumption, consisting of basics like anchovies, pickled cabbage, a tiny börek and a bowl of leblebi, or dried chickpeas. Today, the repertoire seems inexhaustible.

Akin explains that flavors Westerners usually associate with Middle Eastern cuisines — bulgur, pomegranate molasses, lavish spicing, hummus, kebabs — are rather new to Istanbul, a consequence of the enormous influx of immigrants from eastern Turkey.

Other classic meze we sample reflect the city's historical layers of cultures. Delicious fried liver nuggets, with wisps of raw onion and a dusting of sumac, hail from the Balkans. The plaki is Greek, Gursoy notes, referring to a classic cold preparation in which beans or fish are simmered in tomato sauce sweetened with onions and cinnamon. Jews might have contributed zeytinyagli, an iconic cold meze of vegetables, such as artichokes or leeks, braised slowly in water and olive oil with a little sugar until they melt in the mouth.

And though raki still reigns, these days, younger Turks are just as likely to sip a locally made Cabernet or a dry Muscat with their meze.

It is actually on Istanbul's Asian side, at a humble joint called Çiya, that I discover the city's most exciting small dishes. Little surprise, because chef-owner Musa Dageviren hails from Gaziantep, a city near the Syrian border renowned for Turkey's finest cuisine.

Each of his dishes vibrates with flavor: A simple tomato and parsley salad comes alive with a sprinkling of pungent orange-hued powder made from dried curd cheese. Grape leaves are filled with dried onions, bulgur and pomegranate syrup. Boiled wheat berries and home-pickled green tomatoes sport a creamy cloak of dense, tart yogurt.

"Gaziantep doesn't have a meze tradition per se," Dageviren explains, "but small dishes are normally served at kebab houses. At home, cooks often fashion light cold meals from leftovers."

Lacking white-gloved waiters or a grandma from Gaziantep, a meze spread is still easy to improvise. The rich thick Turkish yogurt alone — which can be replicated in the United States by draining good-quality yogurt in a cheesecloth-lined sieve — provides a dozen simple ideas. Stir in some crushed garlic, minced herbs and grated cucumbers and spread it on pita. Or fold it into shredded beets, sautéed zucchini or the chopped smoky flesh of an eggplant that has been grilled whole over charcoal (and why not sprinkle some toasted almond on top?). Alternatively, a dollop of yogurt can top fried eggplant or zucchini slices.

Bulgur also makes a fine meze, say as a salad tossed with chickpeas, tomatoes, parsley and mint and drizzled with pomegranate molasses and olive oil. The mandatory raki accompaniment of feta and honeydew melon becomes elegant when cut into cubes and threaded on long wooden skewers. Not to forget olives, pistachios, good, creamy feta and roasted chickpeas. And unless you have a bottle of raki that's been burning a hole in your liquor cabinet, try Greek ouzo, Pernod, a fruity, light red wine (slightly chilled) or a crisp, delicate white (no oaky Chardonnay, please).

The Lion, the Witch & the Turkish Delight

The Lion, the Witch & the Turkish Delight

It was invented 300 years ago to soothe a sultan's troubled harem. Today, sales are soaring. The reason? Its key role in the forthcoming film of the CS Lewis novel
By Jonathan Brown

The Independant 05 December 2005

Abdul Hamid might not have been much of a military leader - his reluctant forays into battle with the Russians nearly cost the Ottomans their empire. But he did know a thing or two about women. If legend is to be believed, the 27th sultan's understanding of the needs of his closest female companions left the world an all-together more congenial legacy than his bellicose relatives; one that has seen his fame live way beyond imperial decline.

Faced with the sticky problem of how to keep happy the four wives and hundreds of mistresses maintained behind the elegant façade of the Topkapi Palace, Hamid hit on a sweet solution.
The Sultan summoned to his court the greatest confectioners in the empire and ordered them to find a dessert that would quell the rumblings of discontent within his harem. And so, it is claimed, the sweet we know today as Turkish delight was born.

Three centuries later, the confection that solved Abdul Hamid's domestic troubles, continues to tantalise the popular taste buds. Moreover, the starring role it plays in what promises to be the box office movie smash hit this Christmas has seen its popularity once again soar.

According to Britain's supermarkets, the appearance of Turkish delight in part one of Disney's adaptation of CS Lewis's The Chronicle's of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe has seen Fry's 21st century version of the historic sweet disappear like magic from the shelves.
Tesco has reported a 200 per cent increase in sales while Sainsbury's is also experiencing the "Narnia-effect".

In the film, Tilda Swinton, who plays the dreadlocked, albino Snow Queen, turns war-time evacuee Edmund Pevensie against his siblings and the honest folk of Narnia through the simple inducement of a plentiful supply of the sticky stuff.

CS Lewis observes in the novel that Edmund "thought only of trying to shovel down as much Turkish delight as he could, and the more he ate, the more he wanted."

Moving from fantasy back to legend, Ali Muhiddin Hadji Bekir, the confectioner who hit on the formula that got the women off Abdul Hamid's back, would no doubt have been delighted.

His recipe, barely related to Fry's chocolate smeared, chemical-pink confection of today, lives on. Hadji Bekir's genius it is said, was to produce a soft and chewy candy - in welcome contrast to the tooth-cracking hard offerings of the day. The confectioner is said to have perfected his creation by combining ingredients at his disposal at his home in the Anatolian mountain town of Kastamonu. These were water, sugar, cornflour, lemon cream of tartar and rosewater.

Hadji Bekir's recipe was simple. He heated the water, lemon and sugar, which he then added to a second pan containing flour, water and the tartar. Simmered for an hour, he sprinkled on the rosewater before allowing his mixture to cool. Dusted with powdered sugar and chopped into bite size chunks, the alchemy was complete. Of course - the legend continues - Hadji Bekir didn't call his creation Turkish delight - that came centuries later, the result of a piece of rather ingenious Victorian marketing.

Locally, this speciality became known as Rahat lokhoum - a corruption of the Arabic rahat ul hulkum, which translates as "soothing to the throat". In English the word was simplified to "lokum".
It became a daily staple at the sumptuous feasts held at the Ottoman court and Hadji Bekir's fortunes rose dramatically as a consequence.

He was granted the title of chief confectioner to the palace and established a small shop at Bahcekapi in 1777. It thrived under the management of his sons, being handed down generation to generation, and the family still maintains a small shop in Istanbul, close to the Yeni Cami (New Mosque). It remains a popular stop on gastronomic tours of the Turkish capital.

The recipe spread through the Near and Middle East, what is modern day Greece and the Balkans. In Constantinople, fashionable ladies swapped offerings of it in lace handkerchiefs. It became love tokens between courting couples and the accompaniment of choice to a cup of strong Turkish coffee.

But Tim Richardson, author of Sweets: A History of Candy, is sceptical about the veracity of the legend. His love affair with confection was prompted in part by his grandfather's frequent missions to the Middle East as a buyer of Turkish delight (it was a passion not extinguished by his dentist father.) Mr Richardson believes that Hadji Bekir's story lives on, fuelled partly because of its romantic appeal and partly due to the commercial interests that continue to promote it.
"I'm sure it is a much older sweet. There is evidence of gummy, syrupy sweets dating back to the 9th century," he says. The Persians developed a sweet, the "no rooz", meaning new year. It, too, was made from sugar and starch, and cut into chunks. It was displayed on necklaces and eaten during special celebrations. The recipe is repeated on manuscripts pre-dating Hadji Bekir by half-a-millennia.

The Turks' claim to have invented lokum is even less readily accepted by their neighbours, especially the Greeks. Cypriot grocers in London will sell it only as Greek delight. It is a similar story for other sweets of the region. The invention of baklava, a layered filo pastry confection stuffed with nuts or other flavourings, is contested between Greeks, Armenians and Turks. Halva, which began life in India, was adjusted to local tastes as it journeyed west towards Europe. Exactly who makes the original and the best version is a hotly contested matter to this day.

What is known is that sugar played a central part in the Arabic pharmacy - it is a legacy that lingers in European civilisation to this day. Lozenges are derived from the Arabic word for a diamond-shaped fondant, lollipops and chocolate are sold side-by-side in modern day chemists. The appropriate treatment for a sore throat is, of course, a cough sweet.

But society's relationship with sugar and spice and all things nice has become increasingly complex over the years. The powerful effect it exerts on the human psyche, particularly that of children, was not lost on CS Lewis and has been revisited throughout modern literature. "To adults, sweets are a symbol of a lost innocence," says Tim Richardson. "Lewis substitutes them for the apple in the Adam and Eve story when the Snow Queen uses Turkish delight to tempt Edmund. The innocence of childhood is being damaged here."

Other authors have employed similar devices. From the Brothers Grimm and their gingerbread houses, to Roald Dahl in Willy Wonka and Ian Fleming's Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in which the scary child-catcher uses sweets to ensnare unsuspecting minors. "They are children's weak spot. Much is still made of child molesters using sweets to tempt their prey," says Mr Richardson.

While modern-day adults and doctors might demonise sweets, children, he says, continue to love them. "They are an incredibly emotional thing for them. They are one of the few things you can buy on your own as a child and consume. They are the way we learn about money, sharing and unfortunately stealing. How many people can hand on heart say they have never stolen a sweet? Children lust after them."

While much recent debate has centred on the Narnia film's treatment of the deeply devout CS Lewis's Christian allegory for evangelical US cinema audiences, Mr Richardson believes there may be another hidden meaning behind the use of Turkish delight to trap Edmund. "It is just possible that Lewis looked on the sweet as something not very Christian. Did he choose it to represent something that harks back to the Crusades?"

The collision of cultures has proved an important marketing device for Fry's which first launched its Turkish bar in 1914 - nearly half a century after its chocolate cream. Under the slogan "full of Eastern Promise", Cadbury's describes the bar as a "mystical, exotic treat that lets you escape from the everyday". The company has deliberately exploited the sex appeal of the Orient - from the windswept desert tent to the galloping Arab stallion, in order to appeal to both men and women consumers. Such allure was even felt by that least sexual of writers Charles Dickens who used the sweet to introduce an air of saucy exoticism into The Mystery of Edwin Drood. In it, Rosa Bud performs an erotic glove striptease as she eats Turkish delight - then known simply as "lumps of delight" - coquettishly licking away the white powder from her outstretched finger.

Turkish delight first arrived in Europe half a century before Dickens was writing Edwin Drood - not in the travelling trunk of the intrepid explorer Sir Richard Burton as the modern British legend would have it - but in the sample case of an unknown commercial traveller. It became Napoleon's favourite sweet and was much admired by Sir Winston Churchill. Pablo Picasso used it as an aide to his concentration. Thanks to Disney, the Western love affair with the East's favourite sweet looks as promising as ever.

Topik (layered garbanzo bean pâté )

Topik is an Armenian dish traditionally eaten during the seven weeks of Lent when meat and dairy are forbidden. Nowadays it is more widely known as many restaurants in Turkey serve it as a meze.
Mavi Boncuk

Topik (layered garbanzo bean pâté )

Total time: 1½ hours, plus chilling time
Servings: Makes 9 squares
2/3cups dried Zante currants
1/4cup mild olive oil
4 cups chopped white onions (medium dice)
1 teaspoon cinnamon, plus more for sprinkling the pâté
3/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 cup toasted pine nuts
3 cups canned garbanzo beans, well drained, liquid reserved
3 tablespoons tahini paste, room temperature, well stirred
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 medium-sized yellow-fleshed potatoes, peeled and boiledSalt

1. Place the currants in a medium bowl, add boiling water to a level one-half inch above the currants and let them stand for 30 minutes. Drain and reserve the soaking liquid.

2. In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook, stirring, until they begin to soften, about 7 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-low and continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until onions are soft and very lightly browned, about 15 to 20 minutes, adding 2 to 3 tablespoons of the currant soaking liquid when onions begin to look dry.

3. Add the currants and another 2 to 3 tablespoons of their soaking liquid and cook for 5 more minutes, stirring. Stir in the cinnamon and allspice and cook for 2 more minutes. Remove from heat and let the mixture cool to room temperature. Stir in the pine nuts.

4. In a food processor, purée the garbanzo beans in 2 batches with the tahini, lemon juice and 4 to 5 tablespoons of the bean liquid until very smooth. Scrape the mixture into a large bowl.
5. Mash the potatoes until smooth with a potato masher or pass through a ricer. Stir the mashed potatoes into the puréed mixture and mix thoroughly. Season with salt.

6. Line an 8-inch square baking pan with plastic wrap, leaving 4 to 5 inches of overhang on all sides. Wet your hands with cold water and use them to spread half of the garbanzo mixture evenly on the bottom. Spread the onion mixture evenly on top; it will be a rather thick layer. With wet hands, spread the other half of the garbanzo mixture on top of that. Fold in the overhang to enclose the pâté. Weight the pâté with a small cast-iron skillet, a plate topped with two 16-ounce cans or something of similar weight, and refrigerate for 2 to 3 hours.

7. To serve, bring the pâté to room temperature, invert it onto a serving plate and remove the plastic wrap. Sprinkle the top lightly with cinnamon (you can do this decoratively through a doily). Cut into squares.

Each serving: 306 calories; 9 grams protein; 41 grams carbohydrates; 7 grams fiber; 14 grams fat; 2 grams saturated fat; 0 cholesterol; 246 mg. sodium.

SYRUPED QUINCE WITH CREAM

The quince has a seductive history. Ancient Greek gourmets knew them as apples of Cydonia – after the superior variety they developed from Kydonia in Crete – witness the “golden apple” (almost certainly a quince) Paris presented to Aphrodite, the goddess of love, that led to the downfall of Troy.

SYRUPED QUINCE WITH CREAM (Kremalı Ayva Tatlısı)
Three quinces are cut into four pieces and each boiled in half a litre of boiling water and taken out with a strainer. Sufficient sugar is added to the same water and a little of a lemonis juice is squeezed into it. Quinces are thrown back into the water again together with their seeds packed into a small square of cheesecloth. When cooked to a reasonable softness, they are transferred into a service plate and cream is put into their seedbeds.

The Original Mediterranean Cuisine

The Original Mediterranean Cuisine |Medieval recipes for today by Barbara Santich

$9.95 PB 240 PP 1862543313 Food and Wine APN 9781862543317 Wakefield Press

In Sicily you can eat a puree of broad beans which is essentially the same as would have been eaten centuries ago. In Barcelona you might sample a dish of fried fish in a vinegary sauce, which goes back to the time of Apicus and the Roman empire. This is the original Mediterranean cuisine. In this book culinary historian Barbara Santich describes how it evolved and offers a selection of recipes from medieval Italian and Catalan manuscripts.

The Origins and Antecedents of
Italian Renaissance Cuisine
by Minowara Kiritsubo
The trumpets sound, the guests take their places and the feast begins. As it is spring, the host has chosen an area of his house for the feast that opens onto his gardens, allowing the fragrance of the flowers to perfume the air. This is augmented by the fresh willow branches which have been strewn about on the floor. The diners are seated along a narrow trestle table which has been covered with a white cloth and a decorative center runner of a handsome brocaded fabric. As the host is quite wealthy, the diners are seated on chairs rather than the stools or benches found in most homes. Each has been provided with a napkin, although a supplementary tablecloth can also be used for wiping hands or mouths. Bread has been placed on the table, as have silver salt cellars so that the guests may season their food to their own individual tastes. They have also been provided with a dish of glazed majolica emblazoned with the host’s coat of arms. Wine will be served from earthenware pitchers, which keep the beverage cool, into glass goblets. Additionally the table setting would include knives and spoons. For this particular feast, the host has also provided that new invention, the fork, which he has recently acquired from a supplier in southern Italy.

The balance and content of dishes served in each course are different from those to which we have become accustomed and would reflect the wealth and position of the host. If this were a simple, everyday meal, it might consist of a one-pot dish of meat and vegetables and a roast. As this is a very special occasion, the menu is quite extravagant. One source, the Cuoco Napolitano, describes a feast consisting of 23 courses!1 The first courses consist of appetizers of various types, designed to whet the appetites of the diners for the courses to follow. Boiled meat courses precede roasted meats, smaller roasts preceding larger ones. In other words, the order in which the dishes are served follows a well-defined code, progressing to a high point of the fanciest and most impressive of the roasts, a whole roasted peacock, complete in its feathers, with various accompaniments. The end of the feast is heralded by the appearance of sweet dishes such as fruits cooked in honey and wine, preserves of various types and "tortes."2

The cuisine of Renaissance Italy developed over many centuries and drew upon many different influences. The first, and most obvious, of these was that of ancient Rome. Anyone who has investigated the history of food and its preparation, even in a cursory manner, has encountered the works of Marcus Gavius Apicius, a Roman who dabbled in cooking, specializing in the grandiose and unusual. He delighted in preparing elaborate feasts for his friends from the upper social echelons, and his exploits are generally legendary. It is said that he once bid an exorbitant sum for a giant mullet, but was outbid by another who was willing to pay 5000 sesterces for the fish, a sum unheard of at the time.3 His creations utilized ingredients that were both rare and costly, and very complex in nature, often featuring sauces that contained numerous herbs, spices and condiments such as wine and liquamen. He collected his recipes along with his favorites from his friends' kitchens into a work called De re Coquinaria, which gives us a really good idea of the cuisine of the upper classes. The following recipe for roast boar is an example (Apicius 333):

"Prepare a heated sauce for roasted boar thus: Pepper, fried cumin, celery seed, mint, thyme, savory, safflower, roasted pine nuts or roasted almonds, honey, wine, an acetabulum of garum, and a bit of oil."4
You will note that this recipe is only for the sauce and gives no instruction for actually preparing the roast. It was assumed that the cook using the recipe already knew how to do this. Other Roman writers also provided a glimpse of what their cuisine was like. References may be found in the work, Appendix Vergiliana, which contains a poem about a farmer, describing his diet.5 The foods mentioned here are peasant foods, and therefore much simpler than the extravagant feast dishes of Apicius. However, it is surprising that many of these dishes have survived all sorts of mayhem to be part of our modern cuisine. Consider the following description for a cheese spread (Appendix Vergiliana, Moretum):6

Four garlic cloves, celery, rue, coriander, salt grains, and cheese.
A delicious spread can be made by simply blending these ingredients, using ricotta cheese. For modern taste, I recommend cutting back on the amount of garlic as this tends to be VERY strong.

Another very well-known Roman, Cato the Censor, wrote a treatise, de Agricultura, which contained a number of classic dishes, again from the simpler peasant diet.7 Included in his work is a recipe for an early version of a cheese cake (Cato 84):

Make a savillum thus: Mix 1/2 libra of flour and 2 1/2 librae of cheese, as is done for libum. Add 1/4 libra of honey and 1 egg. Grease an earthenware bowl with oil. When you have mixed the ingredients well, pour into the bowl and cover the bowl with an earthenware testo. See that you cook it well in the middle where it is highest. When it is cooked, remove the bowl, spread with honey, sprinkle with poppy, put it back underneath the testo for a moment, and then remove. Serve it thus with a plate and spoon.8
After the fall of Rome, many of the manuscripts containing information about Roman cuisine were lost, as was the case with other writings as well, though much of the Graeco-Roman culture, including many recipes, continued to be used in Constantinople. People in western Europe at this time were more concerned with mere survival than elaborate ways to prepare their food. Some remnants of the Roman ways were preserved in southern France and Spain, as well as Italy, mainly because they shared not only a common climate and a common language base, Latin, but access to trade via the old Roman roads, as well as the sea lanes between major ports. This would serve as the foundation for the trade routes to the East.

Beginning in the 11th century, however, a new interest in cookery began to evolve, spawned by new ideas and products from the Middle East which were brought back by the Crusaders. As Italy was the path of choice for many returning from the Crusades, the first and strongest influences were felt there. During the 13th century, southern Europe developed a class system that was not based solely on the feudal system. Often merchants and professional people were as wealthy if not more so than the nobility. In some cases, a wealthy merchant might purchase lands and titles from an impoverished noble. Because wealth was not tied solely to the land, payment for services and goods was made in money rather than by barter. All of this led to a greater variety of choices available. The wealthy individual could show off his often newly-acquired wealth through his home, furnishings, clothing and cuisine. This was true not only of the newly rich, but of hereditary Great Lords as well. Scully, in his The Art of Cookery in the Middle Ages, points out that a substantial portion of the financial resources of great households was invested in culinary endeavors.9

The quality and quantity of foods which the individual served to guests demonstrated the wealth and status of the host. This would include not only the kinds of meats and other foods served, but how they were seasoned, presented and what condiments and sauces were served with them. The upper echelons of society dined on capon, pheasant, kid and lamb, whereas the lower classes had to make do with salt pork and beef. Generally, most of the records from this time are of the extravagant feasts served by the wealthy. We do not have much to base our knowledge of the food consumed by the lower classes.

One influence on the revival of interest in cookery came from the Arab cultures which somewhat surrounded southern Europe, from Tyre and Alexandria in the east to Cordoba in the west. There were a number of Arabic tracts on cooking, the most familiar of which is the translation we call The Baghdad Cookery Book. These books were written by people from all facets of society, including poets, scholars and court officials. Scholars in Europe began to recognize the importance of Arabic writings, but concentrated mainly on those related to medicine and health. Even these books contained references to foods, including which ones were appropriate to certain climates, etc. Often these references would give rise to an interpretation as a recipe. So, while there were few actual Arabic recipes that found their way into the kitchens of Western Europe, adaptations of some references in other treatises inspired the creation of new dishes.

One possible reason for this interest in the medical tracts of Arabic scholars was a concern with eating foods which would engender good health. There had been, from the time of the Greeks, a concept that all things were made up of a combination of two pairs of elements: warm and cold, wet and dry. These were present in humans as blood, choler, phlegm and melancholy. In a healthy individual, these elements should be balanced. It was believed that a food possessing a unbalanced amount of one of these elements could be made more efficacious by preparing it in a manner designed to restore the balance. For example, a lamprey was considered to be cold and wet, in an extreme degree. Therefore, the recommended manner of preparation began with the way in which the lamprey was killed. It was a long-established practice to drown the lamprey in wine (thought to be warm and dry) so that the fluid would impregnate all of the lamprey’s flesh and therefore render it healthful.10

Frequently, physicians would, in their medical treatises, include instructions for the preparation of food, as they considered that it had a great influence on the overall health of the individual. An example of this would be the Regimen sanitatis of Maino de’ Maineri, a health handbook composed for his patron, the Bishop of Arras, in the 1330’s. So much of the book was dedicated to the analysis of foodstuffs that a part of the book has since been published as A Medieval Sauce Book!11 One has only to read the recipes contained in De honesta voluptate by Platina (Bartolomeo Sacchi di Cremona) to see how important the properties of foods and their influence on health was to both those who prepared and those who consumed the cuisine of the period. An example of this is from the very familiar recipe for “Armored Turnips” (Rapum Armatum).

Those who have a fortified gullet are pleased to call turnips armored when they have rolled in cheese, covered, as it were, with breastplate and cuirass, as if their descent into the lower regions would not seem safe without arms. But what good does this protection do the turnips, since it turns against them to their total ruin, since the very strong gluttons in the cookshops of athletes prefer their enemy armored and eat them, defenseless as they are ... This dish is quickly cooked and should be eaten quickly, too. But since it is ruinous, it should be served to Domitianus, who is very greedy.12
Merchants returning from the spice markets had tried Arabic dishes and sought to recreate them when they returned home. Some of the new ideas that found their way into European cooking included the use of nuts to thicken sauces, the use of sugar and citrus fruits to enhance the Graeco-Roman idea of sweet-sour dishes, and sugar as an ingredient for desserts, including marzipan. An example would be the little Sugar Pies from Mestre Roberto, in his Libre del Coch:

Take a pound of almonds and blanch them. And grind them without adding either water or stock, so that they become very oily, and the oilier they are, the better. And take one and a half pounds of white sugar, well pounded, and mix it with the almonds. And when these are mixed, if it is a bit stiff, add a little rosewater. And season it with a little ginger to your taste. Then take pastry made with flour and eggs and sweet oil and fill the pastry with the sugar and the almonds. Then take oil and put it on the fire in a frying pan. And when it boils, put in the little pies and cook them until they take on the color of gold. And when you take them from the fire, pour over melted honey. And then sprinkle them with sugar and powdered cinnamon.13
During the later Middle Ages, there were a number of collections of recipes written. These have survived over time mainly because they were kept in the libraries of the well-to-do. In fact, there is an on-going dispute over whether cooks actually used these recipes or whether they were kept so that meals could be planned and supplies ordered. The main argument against this is that the author often addressed remarks directly to the cook: "If you want to make ... ", "Make sure that ... ", and the ever-present, "... and serve it forth." In fact, the word "recipe" itself comes from the beginning of many Latin recipes, and means "take."

There seem to be four collections from the Mediterranean area which have survived to the present, along with various smaller collections which are in libraries and have yet to be translated/published. The earliest of these is a Catalan collection called Libre del Sent Sovi, the earliest extant manuscript of which dates to 1324, though it is unlikely that this is the first edition. These recipes had a great influence on Mediterranean cooking in general, the most direct of which being on the great cook, Mestre Robert, who wrote the Libre del Coch, the first published version of which appeared in 1520, though it is certain that they were compiled at an earlier date. Mestre Robert was cook to Fernando, King of Naples. As Naples was under Catalan control in the latter part of the fifteenth century, most of these recipes are Catalan in origin. However, many of his recipes do have Italian antecedents.14

Another great cook, Maestro Martino, compiled another cookbook, Libro de Arte Coquinaria, in the mid fifteenth century. Maestro Martino described himself as cook to "Reverendissimo Monsignor Camorlengo." This, according to most authorities, is the most complete of the medieval manuscripts, especially among those from Italy. This work has yet to be translated into English. However, one Bartolomeo Sacchi di Cremona, also known as Platina, produced a cookery book, De honesta voluptate (Of Honest Indulgence), which became the first widely published collection. Platina did not just publish recipes, as noted earlier, but tried to make his book a design for living. Most of his recipes (240 of 250) were directly adapted from Maestro Martino, the remainder having come from Apicius (see above). This is entirely plausible as there were copies of Apician manuscripts in existence at the time. Platina’s book was published in Italy possibly as early as 1472 (one citation shows a version printed in Rome at that time). The manuscript itself, according to Santich, is dated 1468. This was, in all likelihood, the first of the internationally published cookbooks.15 In Savoring the Past, we are told that it was translated into French as Platine en francoys by Desdier Christol, prior of St. Maurice, the site of France’s most important medical school. It was printed in Lyons in 1505.16 There are also translations in German and in English. One book, Epulario, or The Italian Feast, contains recipes which are so similar to those in De honesta voluptate that, at the very least, they had a common source. Compare the following:


Stuffed Eggs
(Platina)
Cook fresh eggs for a long time so that they are hard. Then take the egg from the shell and split it through the middle, so as not to lose any of the white. After you have taken out the yolk, grind up part of it with good cheese, aged as well as fresh, and raisins; save the other part to color the dish. Likewise add a little finely chopped parsley, marjoram and mint. There are those who put in two or more egg whites, along with some spices. With this mixture, fill the whites of the eggs, and when they are stuffed, fry them over a gentle flame, in oil. When they are fried, make a sauce from the rest of the yolks and raisins ground together, and when you have moistened them in verjuice and must, add ginger, clove, and cinnamon and pour over the eggs and let them boil a little together.17

To dresse and fill Egges
(Epulario or, The Italian Feast)
Seeth new Egs in water untill they be hard, then peele them and cut them in the middle, and take out the yolks, and doe not break the white, and stampe some part of those yolks with a few currans, Parsley, Margerum and Mint, chopped very small, with two or three whites of Egs, with what spice you thinke good. And when they are mixed together colour it with Saffron, and fill the Egges therewith, and frie them in oyle; and with a few of those yolkes which remain unstamped with a few Currans, and stampe them well together, and thereto Sugar, Cloues, and good store of Sinamon, let this sauce boyle a little, and when you will send the Egges to the Table, put this sauce upon them.18
The publisher of Epulario has not provided any information about the origin of the manuscript. The only documentation is provided on the title page, where it states that it was translated out of the Italian into English and printed in London in 1598. Santich does not mention an English translation, but if it was translated into both French and German, it seems logical that there would have been and English translation as well. If you compare the two recipes above, the first from Platina and the second from Epulario, allowing for differences in expression, they are almost identical. Epulario does not contain all of the recipes from Platina’s collection, but rather a subset of them, many of which have been adapted and/or rephrased for the English audience. This author does not have any proof or documentation to prove that Epulario is a translation of Platina, but ample evidence exists to indicate that, at the very least, they share a common antecedent.

In this study we have traced the development of Italian Renaissance cuisine from its various sources, including recipes from Imperial Rome, from both the upper class and the peasantry, to the various collections of recipes that give a glimpse into the cuisine of southern Europe. Many of these writings contain not only recipes but information about the environment in which the food was cooked and served and the effect that particular dishes would have on the health and well-being of the diner. This concern, along with the strictures of the Church regarding feast and lean days were the main forces governing the diet of the latter Middle Ages.

Note from author, June, 2000: Further discussions with other cooks, etc., have led me to believe that Epulario, rather than being a translation of parts of Platina, is probably rather a translation of some of Maestro Martino’s recipes instead.

Bibliography
Epulario, or The Italian Feast, London: "Printed by A.I. for William Barley, and are to bee sold at his shop in Gratio Street neere Ieaderi-hall." 1598. Reprinted by Falconwood Press, New York: 1990.

Giacosa, Ilaria Gozzini, A Taste of Ancient Rome. Translated by Anna Herklotz. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992.

Platina: Bartolomeo Sacci di Cremona, known as Platina. On Honest Indulgence. "Printed in Venice with the Work and Care of Father Laurentius of Aquila and Also Sibyllius Umber for the Distinguished Duke Peter Mocenicus. On the Ides of June, 1475." Reprinted by Falconwood Press, New York: 1989. (There is no information as to who did the translation, as the original manuscript was in classical Latin).

Santich, Barbara. The Original Mediterranean Cuisine. Totnes, Devon, England: Prospect Books, 1995.

Scully, Terrence. The Art of Cookery in the Middle Ages. Woodbridge, Suffolk, England: The Boydell Press, 1995.

Wheaton, Barbara Ketcham. Savoring the Past. Pennsylvania: The University of Pennsylvania Press, 1983.


Footnotes:
Barbara Santich, The Original Mediterranean Cuisine. Totnes, Devon, England: Prospect Books, 1995, p. 37.

Ibid.

Ilaria Gozzini Giacosa, A Taste of Ancient Rome. Translated by Anna Herklotz. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992, p. 7.

Ibid., p. 110.

Ibid., p. 54.

Ibid.

Ibid., p. 6.

Ibid., p. 163.

Terrence Scully, The Art of Cookery in the Middle Ages. Woodbridge, Suffolk, England: The Boydell Press, 1995, p. 245.

Ibid., p. 44.

Ibid., p. 43.

Platina: Bartolomeo Sacci di Cremona, known as Platina. On Honest Indulgence. New York: Falconwood Press, New York: 1989. (There is no information as to who did the translation, as the original manuscript was in classical Latin), p. 72.

Santich, p. 157.

Ibid., pp. 41-42.

Ibid., p. 43.

Wheaton, Barbara Ketcham. Savoring the Past. Pennsylvania: The University of Pennsylvania Press, 1983, p. 34.

Platina, p. ?? (nb: I no longer have the version of Platina that I used for this article. However, in the Milham translation, the recipe can be found on page 405. It’s from Book IX, #28.)

Epulario, or The Italian Feast, New York: Falconwood Press, 1990, p. 65.

TURKISH CHEESE

THE INDISPENSABLE INGREDIENT OF TURKISH TABLES: CHEESE

The history of cheese probably goes as far back as that of milk. Cheese holds a special place not only in Turkish cuisines, but also in the cuisines of the world. According to many views, cheese originated in Mesopotamia, in other words in some parts of Anatolia. The type of cheese is determined by the production stage. Factors such as the quality of the milk used, the protein and fat content, the amount of bacteria that it contains, the conditions of the factory, temperature and humidity levels, the quality and the production techniques used for the additives influence the variety and the taste of cheese.

According to the Turkish Food Regulation, cheese is “a dairy product with particular taste, aroma and consistency, produced by coagulating raw milk, UHT milk or milk cooked at 72 degrees for two minutes with cheese yeast or a harmless acid, and leaving to maturation for a particular period.” In order for milk to turn into cheese, first it needs to coagulate and there are mainly two methods used to achieve this. The first involves leaving milk as it is; in which case it will go sour and coagulate. The second method involves adding yeast to milk, and leaving it to coagulate. As a result of this coagulation, the liquid called “whey” is released. The fresh cheese produced through this process is called “teleme.” The Teleme is left to maturate for particular durations, and through various methods it then becomes ready to be consumed as cheese. Turkish culinary culture features about 20 cheese varieties in about five groups; kasar, tulum, mihaliç, lor, and the white cheese group which is the most important.

White cheese, commonly known as Feta cheese in the West, is mainly produced in the Marmara Region, is consumed in abundance. It can be produced out of sheep or cow milk, but the production techniques may change according to region. White cheese needs 90 days to mature in salt water. High fat content white cheese is soft and smooth whereas low fat versions are harder. It is an essential part of Turkish breakfast and used in börek.

The Tulum variety of cheese is produced by breaking up the teleme, salting it and letting it sit in special bags. Lamb’s milk and a certain ratio of goat milk is used for producing the tulum cheese, does not contain any air pockets, and is left for maturation for at least three months. This yellowish cheese, which is produced especially in the northeastern Anatolian and Aegean regions, tends to be more expensive than other varieties of cheese. However the tulum cheese of the Aegean Region is kept is salty water, which accounts for its different taste.

Kasar cheese is prepared in cylindrical molds and it is dark yellow in color. Generally it is produced with lamb’s milk. In Turkey, kasar is generally produced Middle Anatolian and Thrace regions. To produce one kilogram of good quality kasar cheese, at least ten kilograms of milk are required. After the teleme is put in perforated buckets, it is immersed in hot water at 73 to 75 degrees, and then it is knead and cooked. It needs to sit in round shaped containers for at least a month. The wonderful kasar cheese is consumed by itself or added to dishes.

Mihaliç cheese is mostly produced around Bursa and Balikesir and it involves letting the teleme sit in salted water. The only feature that distinguishes it from kasar is that it is prepared through immersion in hot water at 40 to 45 degrees. Because of this, it is harder than kasar, white in color, and contains little holes. It can be consumed with foods that require melted cheese or eaten by itself.

Lor cheese is created with the whey released during the production of kasar and mihaliç. The extra whey is boiled, and the resulting coagulated matter is broken up into tiny pieces. Lor is an unsalted and inexpensive type of cheese generally consumed as bread spread with the addition of walnuts, tomato paste and various condiments. Alternatively, it is used as börek filling.

Other than these major varieties, there are many other types of Turkish cheese; the Otlu cheeses (Eastern Anatolia) are produced by adding cumin, mint, bay leaves, dill, oregano, saffron, fennel or lavender to the white cheese and burying it underground for at least two months. Örgü cheese (Southeastern Anatolia) gets its name because it is prepared in braided hair form, and it is suitable for frying. In addition to Dil (Marmara Region), Civil (Eastern Anatolia), Çamur (vicinity of Izmir), Çerkes (Black Sea Region), Golot (Eastern Black Sea Region), Sikma (Southeastern Anatolia Region), Carra (vicinity of Hatay), Abaza (Middle Anatolia Region), Yörük (vicinity of Denizli), there are many other types of cheese which get their names from the containers used for maturation; çömlek, küp, çanak, and testi, etc.

Kirli Hanim produced around Ayvalik features white cheese filtered in reed baskets, salted and left to mature in a cool place, and it appeals to gourmet taste. Künefe Cheese is produced in the vicinity of Hatay, singularly for use with the dessert dish Künefe and semolina sweets. One of the most special varieties of cheese produced in Turkey is Kars Gravyeri, which has holes and needs to be left for maturation for at least ten months before it can be ready for consumption.

The cheeses which peynirl outside of the main varieties get their particular characteristics from the geographical conditions of the region. In inland regions, where difficult winter conditions prevail, cheese are tend to be saltier and harder. On the other hand, in coastal regions, lighter varieties of cheese are preferred.

Reference: Yesim Gokce (Bilkent University)/Turkish Cultural Foundation

Teleme

Always known as Teleme in Turkey
Mavi Boncuk |
A Western classic and a California exclusive, teleme is a creamy white cheese made from whole milk. Once ranked as the best-sell ing specialty cheese in California, it slipped from attention in the late '60s, when some early producers stopped making it.

The invention of teleme is credited to a Greek cheese maker in Pleasanton, California. Shortly thereafter, production was begun by others, including one California family of Italian heritage, the Pelusos. First made in San Francisco's North Beach district in the 1920's, teleme is a close cousin of Taleggio, a whole milk cheese traditionally from the Taleggio Valley in Lombardo, Italy. Some describe it as a creamy Monterey Jack. The Pelusos began commercial distribution in 1925 and, three generations later, still supply Westerners with this distinctive cheese. Authoritative classifications group teleme with feta. But it's much more like Italy's stracchino in taste and texture. Both cheeses have a mild but refreshingly smooth-tart flavor (without feta's saltiness). Teleme, however, is smoother and creamier throughout; when beated, it melts into a delicate sauce a property of which these recipes take advantage. The process of making teleme and feta starts the same way, but feta turns out firm and crumbly; teleme goes the opposite direction, in an operation that's more difficult to control. Not surprisingly, it was an unexpected development in a batch of feta that created teleme.

Teleme is made in 10- to 12-pound blocks. The cheese is ready to eat in about 10 days but can age up to two months. As it ages, it develops more complex flavor and creamier texture.

Beyaz Peynir

Traditional, unpasteurized, vegetarian, fresh cheese made from sheep's milk. Pure white and rindless, the cheese has a grainy appearance. It is usually sold in blocks or slices. It is used in salads, pastries and many local dishes. Beyaz Peynir is the most popular Turkish cheese. Vegetable rennet is used to clot the milk. The curds are pressed for a few hours, then roughly chopped and strained, sometimes in attractive wooden or woven moulds. After draining, the cheese is cut into slices before being salted and covered with brine. It is usually stored in brine for more than six months. This cheese resembles feta. It is soaked in cold water or milk before use, to remove the excess salt.

Country:Turkey
Milk:ewe milk
Texture:semi-soft
Fat content:45 %

Wait until you try Turkey's luscious haydari dip. It blends homemade yogurt (labneh) or Beyaz peynir with dill and garlic, to which you can add walnuts, the health food of the moment and a part of the Caucasus longevity diet.

Piyaz | Haricot Bean Salad

Piyaz (haricot bean salad) by Zeyda Üstün

Soak 250 gr kuru fasulye (white beans-haricot beans-navy beans) overnight. The next morning drain off the water and put the beans in a pan of boiling water, at which 2 dessertspoonful of sodium bicarbonate was added, and let boil for 4-5 minutes and drain again.

Put the beans in a pan and cover over the top with fresh water and cook. When done, spare ½ glass of the water and drain the remaining water. Add salt, some lemon juice, and vinegar to ½ glass of water and pour it over the beans and stir. Cover the pan and cool. Add olive oil after an hour.

Dress with green onions (or dry onions), chopped parsley, olive, and tomatoes and especially with boiled eggs. Serve cool.

Un Helvası | Flour Helva

Un Helvası (Flour Helva)

2 glasses flour
3 glasses water
2.5 glasses of sugar
1 T. spoon pine nuts
125 gr. Margarine un

Stir the flour and the pine nuts with a wooden spoon until the color of the nuts turns into a light brown at a very low heat.. Slowly pour the water, sugar and melted margarine mixture 25-35 minutes later. Stir this heavy mixture 5-10 more minutes and then turn off the stove. When warm take portions with a table spoon which you dip into water from time to time to avoid sticking and lay them to a dish after giving shape. The characteristic of Un helvasi is its spoon like shape.

Irmik Helvasi |SEMOLINA SAFFRON AND PISTACHIO HELVA

SEMOLINA SAFFRON AND PISTACHIO HELVA (IRMIK HELVASI)

Serving Size : 6 Preparation Time :0:00
Amount Measure Ingredient -- Preparation Method
-------- ------------ --------------------------------
1/2 ts Saffron threads
2 tb Hot milk
1/3 c Shelled unsalted pistachios
9 tb Unsalted butter
1 c + 2 to 4 tb sugar
2 c Milk
1 c Semolina

Soak the saffron in the hot milk for at least 30 minutes. Heat a heavy
frying pan and toast the pistachios with 1 tablespoon of the butter for 2
minutes, until they are lightly toasted but still green. Remove as much
skin as you can from them and set aside.

Dissolve the sugar in the milk over low heat and keep the mixture hot. Melt
the remaining butter in a heavy saucepan, add the semolina, and cook,
stirring, over low heat for about 8 to 10 minutes.

Stir the saffron milk into the hot sugared milk and add to the semolina,
and cook, stirring vigorously. Remove the helva from the fire, cover, and
allow to stand in a warm spot for 15 minutes. Fold in the pistachios and
serve warm or at room temperature in bowls.

From: CLASSICAL TURKISH COOKING - Traditional Turkish Food for the
American Kitchen by Ayla Algar, Harper Collins Publ., New York. 1991. ISBN
0-06-016317-8 Shared by: Karin Brewer, Cooking Echo, 4/93

Pide | Turkish Bayram Bread

When Hasan al-Basri was asked whether sadaqa was better than recitation of the Qur'an, he related the tradition: "A piece of bread and a handful of dates given in alms is more beneficial than reciting the Qur'an a thousand times."
Rumi
Pide Turkish Bayram Bread
Not to be confused with the pocket bread, pide is a sweet round loaf fragrant with sesame and fennel.


Total time 5 hours
Dough preparation 1/2 hour
Rising 2-1/2 hours
Baking 1 hour
Cooling 1+ hours

1 cup warm water, at skin temperature
2 tsp. yeast
3 tbsp. sugar
4 tbsp. butter
3/4 cup milk
4-3/4 cups all purpose flour
1 tbsp. salt Topping:
1 egg
1 tbsp. milk
3 tbsp. sesame seeds
1-1/2 tsp. fennel seeds

Sprinkle the yeast over the warm water in a small bowl. Melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat, then stir in the milk and sugar and warm to skin temperature.

Combine the flour and salt in a large mixing bowl. Make a well in the center, then pour in all of the liquid ingredients. Stir until the mixture forms a dough that pulls away from the sides of the bowl. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 10 minutes or more, until the dough is smooth and resilient. Clean out the mixing bowl, butter it lightly, and return the dough to the bowl. Cover and let rise for 1-1/2 hours.

Punch down the dough, knead it briefly, then form it into a tight ball. Place the ball in the center of a lightly buttered 12" round baking dish, then flatten the dough until it covers all but 1" around the edge of the dish. Cover with a clean damp towel and let rise again for another hour.

Preheat the oven to 375?F.

Beat together the egg and milk, then gently brush it over the surface of the dough, the sides as well as the top. (Save any excess egg wash for another project.) Evenly sprinkle the sesame and fennel seeds over the dough, and pat them down gently with dry hands so that they will adhere to the egg wash. (Be careful not to deflate the dough. Using a sharp knife or razor blade, make several shallow cuts in a pleasing pattern over the surface of the bread.

Bake the loaf for 40 minutes, or until it turns a golden brown. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely before serving.

from Serving the Guest: A Sufi Cookbook
Copyright © 1999, 2000 Kathleen Seidel

Three Kunefe Versions

BURMA KÜNEFE 1 kg künefe 500 gr tuzsuz peynir 300 gr tereyağı 3 yumurta 1 avuç un Şurubu: 1 kg şeker üstünü örtecek kadar su Bir tepside künefe yağla karıştırılır. Altı eşit parçaya ayrılır. Küçük parmak kalınlığında açılır. İçine peynir konup poğaça gibi kapatılır. Diğer tarafta unla yumurtalar çırpılır, hazırlanmış peynirli künefeler bu bulamaca batırılarak yağda kızartılıp ılık şuruba atılır.

KAYMAKLI KÜNEFE 1 kg künefe 800 gr kaymak 300 gr tereyağı Şurubu: 1 kg toz şeker 1 kaşık limon suyu 3 bardak su 50 cm. çapında ince kenarlı bir tepside ortası açılıp tereyağı konulur. Hafif ateşte, yağ künefeye yedirilerek elle iyice kırılır. Ateşten indirilen künefe ikiye ayrılır. Yağlanmış tepsiye, künefenin yarısı, yarım cm kalınlığında sıkıca bastırılarak yerleştirilir. İnce ateşte çevire çevire altı pembeleşinceye kadar kızartılır. Üstüne kaymak döşenerek (kenarlara taşmamalı) bir tarafa bırakılır. Diğer yarı; başka bir tepsiye basılarak altı kızartılır ve üçüncü bir tepsiye çevrilerek, pişmemiş tarafı kaymağın yüzüne kızarmış tarafı da en üste gelecek şekilde kaymaklı tepsinin üstüne aktarılır. Hazırlanan şurup ılıtılarak sıcak künefenin üstüne dökülür. 8 cm’lik kareler şeklinde kesilerek ılık servis yapılır.

PEYNiRLi KÜNEFE 1 kg künefe 800 gr tuzsuz beyaz peynir 300 gr tereyağı Şurubu: 1 kg şeker Şeker üstünü kapatacak miktarda suyla kaynatılarak ağdalı bir şurup elde edilir. Ateşten indirmeden önce biraz limon suyu damlatılır. İnce kenarlı 60 cm çapında bir tepside künefenin ortası açılıp tereyağı konulur. Hafif ateşte yağ künefeye yedirilip elle iyice tiftiklenir. Ateşten indirilen künefe ikiye ayrılır. Aynı tepsiye biraz tereyağı sürülüp ayrılan künefenin yarısı yarım cm. incelikte yayılıp sıkıca bastırılır. Üstüne ufalanmış tuzsuz taze peynir kenarlara taşmayacak biçimde yerleştirilir. Künefenin diğer yarısı peynirin üstünü kapatacak şekilde yarım cm incelikte, düzgün bir biçimde yayılıp, sıkıştırılarak kuvvetli ateşin üstünde hafif hafif döndürülerek altı pembeleşinceye kadar kızartılır. Ayrı yağlanmış bir tepsiye alt üst edilir. Diğer tarafı da kızartılıp pembeleştikten sonra bir tarafa alınır. Üzerine hazırlanan sıcak şurup dökülür. Sıcak servis yapılır.

PEYNIRLI KUNEFE

PEYNIRLI KUNEFE
(SWEET SHREDDED PASTRY WITH CHEESE)

Sugar 2 1/4 cups 450 g
Water 1 1/2 cups 350 g
Lemon 2 teaspoons 10 g
Kadayif (shredded pastry) 500 g
Butter or margarine 1 cup 200 g
White cheese (un-salted) 1 2/3 cups 375 g

Combine sugar and water in a saucepan. Stir over low heat until sugar is dissolved. Boil gently for 5 minutes. Add lemon juice; stir. Boil for 1 minute. Set aside. Combine kadaylf shreds and melted butter in a pan. Break kadaylf shreds in butter blending well with tips of fingers. Divide into half. Spread one half in a slightly greased baking pan 25x25 cm (9x9 inch). Press with fingers slightly. Spread cheese over kadaylf shreds. Repeat the same with the remaining half, pressing firmly this time. Bake in a moderate oven for 30 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from oven. Let stand for 2 minutes. Pour warm syrup over. Cover and let stand until syrup is absorbed. Cut into 5-6 cm (2-2 1/2 inch) pieces. Arrange on a serving plate. Serve warm.
12 servings

Nutrition Value (Approx. per serving):
Energy ........: 516 cal Sodium ..........: 72 mg
Protein .......: 10.0 g Vitamin A .......: 334 iu
Fat ...........: 22.4 g Thiamin (Bl) ....: 0.04 mg
Carbohydrate ..: 68.8 g Riboflavin (B2)..: 0.03 mg
Calcium .......: 117 mg Niacin ..........: 0.71 mg
Iron ..........: 0.58 mg Vitamin C .......: - mg
Phosphorus ....: 158 mg
Zinc ..........: 1 mg Cholesterol .....: 7 mg

Regional characteristics:
This form of kadayif is usually served warm following a full meal. Cottage, Ricotta or cream cheese can be substituted for cheese.