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!