Sarika's Creme Caramel

Every Friday night, Amir and I would have Shabbat dinner with Sarika, Amir's Grandmother. She lived in Nisantasi, a busy shopping area of Istanbul. Traffic is dangerously chaotic and noisy on most evenings but on Fridays especially, the journey that would normally take 15 mins to drive, would sometimes take an hour and a half. 
It was difficult for Amir to come home from work, pick me up and then drive on to his Grandmother's apartment so I used to take the dolmus to his work place to meet him or make my own way to Nisantasi.  The dolmus is a type of minibus, I dreaded the journey. Being a foreigner trying to speak Turkish, I stuck out like a soar thumb.  When the dolmus comes along you sit where ever there is space and then pay whilst the driver is driving (that would be illegal in England!) If you sit at the back , you have to tap the shoulder of the person sitting in front of you, give your fare money to them so they can pass the money down from person to person till it reaches the driver. If you need change, the driver gives it to the person behind him and then the change is passed from person to person all the way back. I hated getting a seat in the middle, I was forever passing other people's money backwards and forwards in the hope that nobody spoke to me. The worst of it is that you have to shout out to the driver when you want the dolmus to stop. There are no designated stops like a bus would have. In the beginning, I was so shy, I knew that when I called for the driver to stop it was guaranteed that everyone would look at the foreigner! I prayed that someone else would shout at the driver to stop near to where I needed to get off so I could just slip out quietly.
Still, I suppose it was a better experience than getting the bus. Like a typical, orderly English person I would queue to get the bus. What an idiot I was....no-one queues for the bus in Istanbul, it's a free for all, you have to push and shove to make your way to the front. Once on the bus you wonder why every one was in such a hurry, you could never get a seat anyway, you had the pleasure of getting to your destination with your nose squashed up against the window, some ones elbow stuck in your ear and I really don't know if I was being paranoid or not but I felt sure that even without speaking the other passengers knew I was foreign. Still, the journey was always worth it. I would have ridden across the desert on a camel to get there.
On arrival at Sarika's apartment, she would always be sitting on her narrow balcony looking out on to the main street waiting for us. She always looked troubled and distant in thought but the moment she saw us her face would light up and her arms would be stretched out ready to receive our hugs. The love between Amir & Sarika was beautiful, always caressing each other, holding hands and kissing each others face. What filled me with warmth the most was when I used to catch Sarika sitting on Amir's lap. Amir teased her all the time by tugging at her ears and rubbing her ear lobes, she used to giggle when he did that.  He would then give her shoulders a deep rub and the giggles turned in to yelps of pain, but in a nice way. 
This is dedicated to Madame Sara Soryano. Known as Sarika.

1 Litre milk

6 eggs

1 glass sugar (approx 300g)

1 lemon rind

2 packets of vanilla sugar (10g)

Heat oven to 180c

You will need an oven proof dish that can also be used on the hob. 

(I use a ceramic dish 7 inches wide x 3 inches deep).

Sprinkle about 2 tbls of sugar in to the dish until the surface at the bottom is completely covered.

Heat very gently until melted and caramalized. Take off the heat to harden.

In a saucepan put the milk and sugar to boil till frothy.

In another bowl put the eggs, vanilla sugar & lemon rind. Whisk until light and bubbly.

Place the saucepan next to the bowl. Very slowly you are going to combine the two liquids as follows:

Take one soup ladle of milk mixture and pour it gradually in to the bowl of eggs. Then, take a ladle full of egg mixture and pour it gradually back in to the saucepan of milk. You will repeat this process  a number of times slowly increasing the amounts of ladles from one to the other until all the liquid ends up in one bowl.

Pour in to your oven proof dish on top of the caramelised sugar.

Place in the oven and cook for approx 45 mins until golden brown. 

Let it completely cool then place in the fridge.

When completely cold, run a knife around the edge and shake the dish from side to side to loosen the edges.

Take your serving plate and put on the top of the dish then turn upside down. The creme caramel should just slide out easily.

Tip: The creme caramel will be surrounded in caramel liquid so choose a serving dish with a slight dip so it doesn't overflow.

With each slice, scoop a spoonful of the caramel liquid on the top.

In loving memory xx

Abudaraho addition

At the time, when writing about abudaraho, I couldn't find the photo of the fish roe to accompany the blog page. Today, I stumbled across it. So, here it is, in all its glory, the masterpieces that hung from my kitchen cupboard for weeks.

Amir tried two different types of fish roe.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank Stavros for kindly sending me Abudaraho all the way from Greece (pronounced in Greek as avgotaraho) It really is superb and an absolute treat. Thank you xx

Kabak Dolma (stuffed courgettes)

It wasn't too much of a difficult decision to leave my job and my home in exchange for a life in Istanbul. I had no idea whether the relationship between Amir and I would work but I was ready to make that sacrifice. I loved to travel and immerse myself in culture and adventure. I knew, that if  it was a wrong decision I had made, then like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz I could  just tap my heels together and go back home. Back then, I took life as it came, travelling down many roads, soaking up life's experiences.
The decision to return back to England after a year and a half in Istanbul however, was far more difficult. Night after night Amir and I would discuss the pros and cons of life in Istanbul compared to life in London. After months of deliberation, we reached our decision. The most difficult part of all was to then tell Amir's Mum that we had decided to make our future life in England. She didn't take the news well at all, streams of tears were shed. She then gave me an ultimatum, "If you are going to take Amir to England with you then you have to learn how to cook Turkish food".
Every Tuesday thereafter, Amir's Mum came to visit me for a cooking lesson whilst Amir was at work. I still have my notebook full of recipes but I will never forget the first Turkish dinner I made for Amir and he will never forget it either, still today he tells the story of my kabak dolma.
I felt very confident to cook this dish for Amir one day whilst he was at work. We had kabak (courgettes) at home and I searched the kitchen for the rest of the ingredients needed. I couldn't find kiyma (minced beef) anywhere. I was still determined to make this dish as a surprise for him for when he returned home from work, so I used my imagination for an alternative. There were sausages in the freezer, I boiled and chopped them up in to tiny little pieces which I thought resembled minced beef rather well. I stuffed the kabak with the sausages and cooked them feeling very pleased with my creation. Amir came home, smelt the cooking and went to the kitchen to look at my kabak dolma. He lifted the lid, looked closer at it and then looked at me and said "Lisa, what is that floating around in the saucepan?" I explained how I used sausages as an alternative to minced beef but I didn't know that the chopped sausage would just disperse out of the courgettes and float around on the surface. So, we sat down for our meal eating hollow courgettes with lumps of chopped sausage on the side!

1 large slice of dried bread

4-6 courgettes

200g minced beef

1 Turkish coffee cup (75g) of rice

2 tablespoons of oil

1 tablespoon tomato puree

sugar

salt

black pepper
Natural yogurt for serving (optional)

Soak bread in a bowl of  cold water whilst you prepare the courgettes.

Wash courgettes, cut off the ends and peel. 

Cut courgettes in half and scoop out most of the middle so there is a hole all the way through (don't throw the middle)

Squeeze out all the excess water from the bread and place in a bowl. 

Add minced beef.

Wash rice and add to the minced beef.

Knead together well, add salt and black pepper.

Grate a few pieces of the scooped out courgette and knead in to the meat mixture.

Stuff the meat mixture in to the hollow courgettes leaving a small gap at each end as the rice will swell.

Place courgettes in to a large shallow pan either upright or laying down depending on how much space you have.

Roll any left over meat in to small balls and place in to the pan.

Place all the left over courgette pieces in to the pan.

Add tomato puree, oil, salt and sugar.
Fill with water so that courgettes are peeking above water level.
Cover pan with lid and cook until soft.
Serve with a dollop of natural yogurt.

In this photo I used only 4 courgettes so there was a lot of meat left over to make meatballs.

Turkish courgettes are different to English ones. They are fatter, sweeter and lighter in colour. They can be bought from any Mediterranean food store if preferred.

TIPS

• When slices of bread become dry and a little old, don't throw away. Keep out to dry, then store them. They can be used in many dishes with minced meat.

• If you peel the courgettes lengths ways like ribbons and keep all the peel separately,it can then be cooked together with some plums in the sauce as above. This side dish is called kaskarikas a Turkish Jewish dish.

• When peeling the courgettes you can make them have a stripey effect by peeling length ways and leaving gaps or using a jagged scrapper.

• Another way of cooking courgette dolma is if you cut the courgettes length ways, scoop out the middle to make a boat like shape, place the meat in the groove, dip in to flour (meat side down) then in to egg. Fry meat side down, then place them in to the pan to add sauce as above.

• You can use other vegetables to stuff, not just courgettes. Try peppers or tomatoes.

• Do not stuff with sausages!

Abudaraho

Pronounced as spelt, this luxury delicacy is referred to as the Mediterranean caviar.  

When I first came across abudaraho I was most intrigued by how it looked. With a waxy outer coating, I had no idea what was concealed inside.

After a long day soaking up the sun, traditionally, all the family would arrange to meet at one of the cafes by the seafront where we would buy pastries from Ergun bakery and drink tea . This was my favourite part of the day, not just because I could indulge myself with cakes and pastries but that time of day, around 6pm, was the perfect time to  watch passers by. Boats are full of people coming home from work and their families gathered by the boat station ready to greet them. Fisherman are busy sorting out their nets, gutting the fish and displaying their catch of the day for sale by the waters edge.

Very often, I would see an old man weaving in and out of the chairs and tables holding his arm in the air selling something. I asked Amir what it was he was selling and he told me it was abudaraho. I remarked that he wasn't getting much business as no-one seemed to want to buy any. Amir explained that it was rather expensive to buy but never the less, he called the man over to our table and asked to look at the portions. Amir inspected the size and weight of them then chose one to take home for the following morning's breakfast.

At the breakfast table we all sat down and I watched Amir skilfully cut very thin slices of abudaraho and place a slice or two on each of our plates. He told me not to eat it plain but that it would taste much better on a slice of  fresh bread with butter. All eyes were on me. The anticipation of whether I would like the taste or not was very intense. Amir's Mum was the first to ask. "Well, Lisa, did you like it?" I think they could tell from my screwed up face that I didn't like it at all. Everyone had their mouth open in shock. Amir said to me "How can you not like it, this is what the wealthy people have for breakfast". Well, after that remark I was absolutely determined to like the thing! Every morning, a little bit more and a little bit more, I became accustomed to the taste.

Here, back in England, Abudaraho is virtually impossible to find so Amir is obliged to make it himself. The fish roe used to make this is from grey mullet, but again, this is very difficult to find in England so Amir uses English cod roe instead. The eggs of the fish are salted, pressed, dried and preserved in beeswax. The only problem with the procedure of making abudaraho is that the fish eggs have to hang up for weeks in order to dry. Amir decided that the best place to hang them would be from the cupboard door in the kitchen. I dreaded anyone coming over to our house as I would have to explain why a sack of fish eggs were hanging in our kitchen and then I would have to apologise for the smell surrounding it. One of my friends said to me that she wouldn't put up with anything like that hanging in her kitchen. I think she was right. Had there been a clause in our marriage vows asking... do you agree to have fish eggs hanging in your kitchen for the rest of your life?  I fear what the answer may have been!

All joking aside, I do enjoy eating it now but I am not sure if it makes me feel like I belong to the wealthy category because I eat it for breakfast. Perhaps just wealthier with the knowledge of Turkish cuisine.

One whole unbroken sack of fish roe

salt

beeswax optional.

Sprinkle salt all over the fish roe.

Leave overnight on a plate in order to soak excess water.

After this, you will notice the water separated from the roe.

Wash and hang to dry.

Melt beeswax and dip.

Tea time by the sea. Dan is sitting on the ground stroking a street dog.

Amir's abudaraho covered in beeswax. Unfortunately, I haven't got a photo of the egg sack hanging in the kitchen!

Breakfast in Burgaz

The first recipe I've chosen to write about in my blog is a very simple one that is eaten at breakfast time.

On the beautiful island of Burgaz the mornings greet me with seagulls skipping on the roof tops, street cats fighting and a man shouting in the street selling shoes and slippers from a cart.

After a late night playing Okay (Rumikub) and eating mountains of home made popcorn I find it hard to get myself out of bed. I am however, easily persuaded once I hear the noise of clattering plates and clanking cutlery in the kitchen downstairs. Amir's Mum is awake and preparing breakfast. It's guaranteed to be a feast every time. The entire contents of the fridge are taken out and laid on the table. Home made jams, meats, cheeses, salads, olives. Such a variety that the plates and bowls have to be stacked up and balanced on top of each other as there is no space on the table. When I smell the toast in the toaster that's a sure sign that it's time to get up and eat breakfast. Tea is served from the caydanlik, and the morning begins......

Occasionally, Amir would suggest that we have our breakfast in a cafe down by the harbour. I remember, once, Amir asked me if I would like to share many men with him.  You can imagine the look of relief on my face when I learnt that he was referring to Menemen, a Turkish omlette.

Menemen

2 eggs

knob of butter

1 tomato

50g feta cheese

1 green pepper (the long kind but not too hot)

Melt butter in a frying pan.  

Chop & add pepper & tomato, cook until soft.

Break up the feta cheese and sprinkle in to the pan.

Add eggs.

Stir all ingredients together until cooked.

Season to taste.

Serve with fresh bread.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Here we are, the beginning of a new year. I have spent most of the day eating the left overs of last night's feast. Amir once again excelled himself with his culinary delights.
I don't know about you all but the moment I hear Big Ben strike midnight I feel compelled to shed a few tears, I really don't know why. Perhaps it's the thought of another year leaving us, a sign of how life goes by so quickly, or perhaps I think of loved ones who are no longer with us. Either way, the sounds of those bongs churn up all sorts of emotions inside me.

One of my New Year's resolutions was to find myself a hobby. So here it is, I'm going to start blogging. I've been trying for years to compile a book containing all of Amir's treasured recipes together with my experiences of life in Turkey. I don't seem to have got any further than designing the front cover of the book so I'm going to try to convert my ideas into a blog for who ever might be interested to read it.
Years ago, a clairvoyant once told me I would be signing books. I can't ever see that happening but you never know, we all have to start somewhere. This is my first post, testing to see how the blogging world functions. Wish me luck!