• PART FOUR •
SWEETS & BEVERAGES
Semolina Cake in Syrup (Revani)
Syrup-Soaked Cheese Pastry (Künefe)
Kadayıf in Milk Syrup (Sütlü Kadayıf)
Uncooked Fig and Milk Pudding with Mahlep (Teleme Incir Tatlısı)
Hoşaflar: Fresh or Dried Fruit in Sherbet
Fresh Sour Cherry Hoşaf (Vişne Hoşafı)
Lemon Sherbet (Limonata) Sweet Tahini Cigars
Semolina Halva with Orange (Portakallı Irmik Helvası)
Crêpes with Tahini and Pekmez (Petule)
Easter Sweet Bread (Paskalya Çöreği)
“WHAT IS SWEETER THAN HONEY? SUGAR!” (TURKISH PROVERB)
The Turks are well-known for their collective sweet tooth, and the evidence is everywhere. There are sweets shops where only sweet pastries are served. People stop by at any hour of the day to enjoy a few squares of baklava or other pastries, rolled or shaped like a rose or a nest. The treats are usually accompanied by a glass of lemonade or tea, depending on how cold or hot the weather is. There is no town without a sweet shop like this. Even shops along the highways offer good choices of these kinds of sweets for those who are traveling and would like to get an energy boost or satisfy their sweet tooth. And mind you, they all taste good. Also there are special shops that sell muhallebi, or “milk desserts,” including chicken breast pudding (a very special dessert actually made with the breast meat of a freshly killed chicken), water muhallebi, and rice pudding. But nowadays these shops have also started carrying pastries like baklava and the like to offer a wider variety of choices.
It would be wrong not to think that the Turks’ love of sweets started with their conversion to Islam. Islam forbade wine to its adherents and in return offered them sweet sherbet (here I’m referring to the drinks like lemonade, not the frozen ice cream–like sweet). Ironically, wine and sherbet are both made from fruit juices; wine, however, is fermented, while sherbet retains the taste of fruit sweetened with sugar. Sherbet thus became an important drink in the Ottoman Empire as early as the sixteenth century. At festive or auspicious gatherings where food was served, these fruit sherbets were offered only to men of importance, like wine once was in the West. (Less important people were served only water.) Eventually, the variety of sherbets was creatively expanded to include a luxurious assortment of flavors—such as rose, violet, licorice, and tamarind—that were being imported to the East, and eventually the religious meaning and importance of sherbet was left behind.
Islam’s defense of sweet tastes most likely paved the way for the creation of many of the Turkish sweets and desserts enjoyed to this day. The Ottoman Empire’s strength, at its height in the sixteenth century, facilitated the acquisition of great amounts of sugar, which was considered a precious commodity in Europe until the eighteenth century. Sugar was used because of this abundance and the delicate flavor it gave to desserts, and not because of the digestive qualities Arabs supposed it had. As early as the fifteenth century, there were numerous kinds of jams made with sugar instead of honey and these were offered to people of importance at festivities.
Popular Turkish sweets may be categorized as sweet pastries, milk desserts, halvas (made of butter and flour or starch or rice flour), and hoşafs (fresh fruit in sherbet). These do not include the many regional specialties such as pişmaniye from the Izmit area (a halva composed of hair-thin strips) or the famous sweet kaymak (clotted cream) of Afyonkarahisar. Palatial lokum (Turkish delight) won Turkey an international reputation for master candy making. This rich world of sweets has earned the Ramadan holiday the name Şeker Bayramı (“Sugar Holiday”), a time when the offering of all kinds of sweets is unlimited.
Given the contemporary popularity of tea drinking in Turkey, one would think the love of Turkish tea was an ongoing, centuries-old phenomenon, but that rendition of the story is not entirely accurate. Tea was first used by Central Asian Turkish tribes around the seventh century as a symbol of friendship and accord. In the ritual, the person whose friendship was sought was offered tea, and he drank it to reciprocate the sentiment. However, this tradition eventually disappeared among Muslim Turks, most likely because tea drinking became associated with Buddhists, who drank tea as part of their religious rituals.
By the nineteenth century, however, tea became popular again as Turks began to appreciate the drink for its medicinal properties. At that time, it was served mostly in wealthier homes and only after meals to aid digestion. Today, of course, it is served and drunk at almost every hour of the day. Even children are served a tea cooled and diluted with cold water known as pasha tea, a tepid tea drunk in the homes of the rich to aid digestion.
Tea is not only an essential part of socializing, but also an unrivaled staple at breakfast too. For Turks, the most important gathering around the table is breakfast, but this custom is actually quite a recent innovation in Turkish cuisine. The popularity of breakfast parallels tea’s reappearance in Turkish culture in the late nineteenth century. Of course, the Turks’ genius at making pastries that go very well with a glass of tea certainly helped make teatime gatherings for the ladies popular too. So, along with instructions for making a perfect cup of Turkish tea, below I’ve included recipes for pastries and other sweets that pair nicely with tea, at breakfast or any time of day.
Semolina Cake in Syrup (Revani)
USING SEMOLINA in desserts gives them a grainy texture. It also prevents mushiness, which is not too pleasant to the palate. This is a dessert for those who love cakelike treats. It is light and makes a perfect post-dinner finale. Serve with a dollop of kaymak or clotted cream, if desired.
⅓ cup (45 g) blanched and ground almonds (optional)
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour, plus more for the pan
2 tablespoons grated lemon zest
5 or 6 dried apricots, quartered (whole blanched almonds may replace the apricots for extra crunch)
Juice of ½ lemon (about 2 tablespoons)
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).
Make the cake: Mix the semolina and the almonds (if using) with the flour. In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks with the sugar and lemon zest until light. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites with the salt until stiff. Fold the flour mixture into the egg yolk mixture, and then fold in the egg whites. Grease a 12-inch (30- to 31-cm) round cake pan, dust with flour, and pour in the batter. Arrange the apricots on top. Bake for 30 minutes, or until the top of the cake is golden.
While the cake is baking, make the syrup: Boil 4 cups (960 ml) water with the sugar and lemon juice for about 10 minutes, until the syrup loses its runniness and is near the consistency of olive oil. When the cake is done, turn the oven off, and pour the hot syrup into the pan in the oven. Keep the oven door closed until all the syrup is absorbed, about 20 minutes. Let the cake cool completely before serving.
Syrup-Soaked Cheese Pastry (Künefe)
KÜNEFE IS a dessert pastry made out of extra-long, vermicelli-like threads, filled with a special saltless cheese, and dressed with syrup and a variety of nuts. (Minus the cheese, this dessert is known as kadayıf.) The popularity of künefe spans a geography much larger than just Turkey (in this case mostly southeastern Turkey). Looking at a map of the Ottoman Empire at its peak, it is easy to understand how many dishes besides this delicious dessert have been exported or imported far beyond their areas of origin. The easy preparation of this sweet pastry helps feed its acclaim. You will need six künefe dishes, typically made of brass with simple wide rims that makes for a pretty presentation (these can be ordered online), or six 2-inch (5-cm) round cake pans. Traditionally, the pastry is cooked on gas burners on the stovetop, but to cook six portions at the same time I devised this simple oven method.
1 pound (455 g) fresh wet kadayıf (see Notes)
10 tablespoons (140 g) unsalted butter, melted
8 ounces (225 g) fresh, saltless cheese, such as ricotta, divided into 6 pieces
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
3 tablespoons freshly ground pistachios
Spread the kadayıf on a baking sheet and sprinkle with the melted butter. Using your hands, rub the butter all over portions of the kadayıf (the threads are so thin that rubbing them between your fingers will butter entire portions). Divide the kadayıf into six equal portions, then divide each portion into two pieces. Spread one piece on the bottom of each künefe dish or 2-inch (5-cm) cake pan. Divide the cheese among the pans, and then place a second piece of kadayıf on top of each, making sure the cheese is well covered. Place the dishes on top of each other, so they press on the one below (placing any kind of weight, such as a pot, on the last one is a good idea). Refrigerate for 1 to 2 hours.
While the pastries are chilling, prepare the syrup: Boil the sugar and 3½ cups (840 ml) water, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Add the lemon juice and boil for 10 to 12 minutes more. When the syrup is the consistency of olive oil, remove from the heat and let cool.
When ready to bake, place an oven rack in the top third of the oven (to take advantage of the upper heating element) and preheat the oven to 400°F (205°C).
Place the pans on the highest oven rack and bake for 3 to 4 minutes. When the tops are golden, take the künefe out of the oven, carefully invert them onto a baking sheet, removing the pans, and bake 3 to 4 minutes, or until both sides turn golden. Return the künefe to their pans or remove to heated serving plates. Spoon about 3 tablespoons of the syrup onto each künefe, sprinkle with the ground pistachios, and serve immediately. The künefe is best when it is eaten quite warm or the cheese will harden (see Notes).
Notes: Wet kadayıf may be purchased at select Middle Eastern shops. Kadayıf is also sold dry, ready to be immersed in syrup. Do not confuse the two.
Serving künefe in their special baking dishes enables you to serve them hot. Transferring them to another serving dish will cool them down. The künefe dishes also boast wide frames, which allow space for you to pour on the syrup.
Kadayıf in Milk Syrup (Sütlü Kadayıf)
THE KITCHEN archives of Fatih Sultan Mehmet indicate that kadayıf dressed with a milk syrup was served to him in the fifteenth century. As simple as it is, this is still very popular and a favorite among the sweet pastries.
8 ounces (225 g) fresh wet kadayıf (see Notes above)
4 tablespoons (55 g) unsalted butter, melted
1 cup (100 g) walnuts, chopped
3 tablespoons natural rose water (see this page)
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).
Spread the kadayıf on a baking sheet and sprinkle with the melted butter. Using your hands, butter portions of the kadayıf threads by rubbing them with your fingers. Divide the kadayıf into six equal portions. Spread a portion in your palm. Put 1 tablespoon of the walnuts in the center. Cover the walnuts with the kadayıf, creating a ball. Repeat with the other portions. Place them in muffin cups or ramekins. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until they are golden.
Meanwhile, prepare the syrup (see Note): Boil the milk and sugar for 7 to 8 minutes (the syrup should be thin, but not too watery). Let cool to lukewarm then stir in the rose water. When the pastries are done, dish them into a deep pan. Pour the warm syrup over the balls. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour. Transfer to serving plates and top each with a generous sprinkle of cinnamon.
Note: It might be safer, timing wise, to prepare the syrup ahead of time and reheat it to lukewarm before pouring it over the kadayıf balls.
THIS DELICATE dessert is made from milk, pomegranate seeds, rose water, and a special pastry known as güllaç leaves made from flour and cornstarch. As weightless as clouds and as fragile as the thinnest crystal, this sweet, once prepared only for the sultan’s important banquets, has become the symbolic dessert of Ramadan.
Like other popular Turkish desserts, namely baklava and kadayıf, when it comes to preparing Palace Delight, the hardest part of the work is done by masters, who still produce the güllaç leaves by hand. A descendant of Saffet Abdullah, the famous fifth güllaç maker, reveals the secret to perfect güllaç: “The reason one will feel each leaf on the palate depends on the ratio of flour to starch. If the texture of the leaf cannot be felt by the palate, then it is no different than jelly!” I also learned from them that the shiny part of the leaf has to look at you when piling them to make this dessert. That is another reason you will feel the leaves on your tongue.
1/3 cup (75 ml) natural rose water (see this page)
10 dry güllaç leaves (see Note)
1½ cups (135 g) blanched slivered almonds
Bring the milk and the sugar to the boiling point, then stir in the rose water. (Keep this mixture hot during preparation.) Pour 1 cup of the milk syrup into an 11-inch (28-cm) square pan. Take one güllaç leaf, break it into two equal pieces (so they can be easily layered in the pan), lay them in the pan shiny sides up (to keep the leaves from sticking), and spread them flat. Pour about 2 cups (480 ml) of the milk syrup over the leaf, and sprinkle with some almond slivers. Continue this process until all the leaves are immersed in hot milk syrup in the pan. Add the rest of the milk syrup. (If the milk syrup cools during preparation, reheat it.) Refrigerate the assembled güllaç until cold. Cut into squares. Sprinkle with almond slivers and pomegranate seeds, spoon some extra milk over the squares, and serve.
Note: Güllaç leaves or sheets are sold in large, round, vacuum-sealed packages and they can be kept for a long time since they are bone dry. If you don’t have easy access to dry güllaç, you can find it at Middle Eastern markets or on websites selling Turkish ingredients.
Uncooked Fig and Milk Pudding with Mahlep (Teleme İncir Tatlısı)
THIS PUDDING is the result of nomadic wisdom. It is difficult to believe that the milk becomes a pudding without boiling it when figs are added, but it does. Before commercial yeasts appeared, the stomachs of sheep, and likewise figs, were used to ferment milk. Although this dessert is the product of ancient know-how, it is very much in line with the precepts of modern cooking, which is always in search of simple but sophisticated tastes. You will need a candy thermometer to prepare this dish.
4½ cups (1 L) cow’s or sheep’s milk
1 teaspoon ground mahlep (see this page)
4 cups (600 grams) dried figs (see Note), cut into quarters, the insides scraped out as much as possible and reserved
In a large pot, bring the milk and bay leaves almost to the boiling point, then remove from the heat. Dissolve the mahlep in a little bit of the hot milk, then add the mixture to the pot. Insert a candy thermometer. When the temperature reaches 98 to 100°F (37 to 38°C), add the fig seeds that have been scraped out, along with the peels. (This temperature is a little hotter than lukewarm, but barely hot to the touch. If the figs are added when the milk is very hot, the milk will separate. If it is too cool, the milk will ferment.) Stir with a wooden spoon to incorporate as much of the fig seeds as possible, then pass the mixture through a sieve with small enough holes to strain out the seeds; discard the fig peels after pressing them with a spoon so as to get as much flesh as possible through the strainer. With a ladle, transfer the pudding into tiny bowls or pudding glasses and cover them with muslin (it will absorb any wetness rising from the steam) for about 1 hour, until completely cool. Chill the pudding in the refrigerator for 2 to 3 hours and serve cold.
Note: The world-famous Turkish figs that grow around the Aydın area near İzmir and ancient Smyrna in the Aegean region are the only figs used for drying in Turkey. Known regionally as bardacık, they are as sweet as honey and develop an even sweeter taste once they are dried. If the figs that you are using for this pudding are not especially sweet, add some sugar to taste when the milk is still very hot so that the sugar will dissolve quickly. Separating the fig seeds from the rest of the fig saves time in the strainer and helps ensure that the pudding benefits as much as possible from the yeastlike qualities of the figs.
Hoşaflar: Fresh or Dried Fruit in Sherbet
HOŞAFS WERE the sweet served most often in the Ottoman palace. Made from fresh seasonal fruit, these delicate, juicy compotes were served only to important guests. Hoşafs made from dried fruits were for everyone. They were cooled with the snow brought from the Olympos Mountain in Bursa. On one occasion, Sultan Suleyman the Lawgiver was invited by Ibrahim Pasha and his wife (the sultan’s sister) to dine in their luxurious home in what is today called Ibrahim Pasha Palace. When the sultan was served hoşaf and it appeared to have no ice, he remarked on its absence. The pasha replied that the serving bowls were made of ice. Hoşaf’s sweet and refreshing flavor is a wonderful accompaniment to savory dishes, especially pilafs and simple pasta with cheese and, of course, böreks with any kind of filling.
Serves 6 Boil 4 cups (960 ml) water with the sugar until the sugar dissolves, add the orange juice, and boil for a few seconds more. Remove from the heat and let cool; when it is lukewarm, add the orange. Refrigerate until cold, then serve.
3 medium oranges, peeled and thinly sliced or diced (according to preference)
Serves 6 Put the sugar, cloves, lemon juice, and pears in a deep pan. Bring 4 cups (960 ml) water to a boil and pour over the pear mixture. Cook the pears for 1 minute over medium heat (if you are using hard-fleshed pears, cook them for 8 to 10 minutes). Remove from the heat and cover tightly. Let cool to lukewarm. Refrigerate until cold, then serve.
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
3 pears with soft flesh, Bartlett if available
Fresh Sour Cherry Hoşaf (Vişne Hoşafı)
Serves 6 Divide the cherries into two groups: harder and softer. Press the softer cherries in a colander to squeeze out their juice, then rinse with ½ cup (120 ml) water to make sure no juice remains. Transfer the cherry juice to a pot, add the sugar, bring to a boil, then immediately remove from heat. Stir well to ensure that the sugar is dissolved, then add the harder cherries and 4 cups (960 ml) water. Chill in the refrigerator until ready to serve. Serve cold with ice cubes. If the hoşaf is too sweet, add more cold water or ice.
2 pounds (910 g) unpitted whole sour cherries
A Love of Fruit and Fruit for Lovers
Both dry and fresh fruit have long been revered in Turkey, and today across the country fresh fruit is always displayed like colorful jewels in grocery stalls. In fact, each street in Turkey seems to have a small shop specializing in the sale of various nuts and dried fruits called kuruyemişci. People buy small quantities, appreciating the fruits and nuts as a delicacy, and consume them at their freshest. This love of fruit probably dates back to the Turks of Central Asia. In both Asia and Anatolia, serving apples expressed a person’s desire to marry. Many young girls still give a young man they fancy an apple as a token of their feelings. Turkmen who live today around Edremit (on the Aegean Sea) continue an ancestral tradition of leaving fruit on the graves of loved ones on special days. Today’s custom of serving guests fresh or dried fruit at any time of the day is an extension of this ancient fruit-loving culture. And the essential mezes to accompany raki are fresh cantaloupe and feta cheese (beyaz peynir in Turkish), a custom that reflects the long-held love of cantaloupe by the Turks.
THE NAME of this milk dessert, kazan, literally means “bottom of the cauldron.” It is delicious and very much a favorite. It seems its origins go back to the period when Mahmut from Kaşgar wrote his Turkish-to-Arabic dictionary, Divanü Lügat-it Türk, in the eleventh century. One of the words listed in this invaluable source is kez, which is defined as the burnt milk that sticks to the bottom of the pot. Authentic versions are prepared by special dessert makers using sübye, a handcrafted ingredient made by soaking and grinding a type of rice with water. All muhallebi (milk desserts) sold in Turkish stores that serve traditional desserts are made with sübye. This homemade version skips this special ingredient; nevertheless, it is tasty.
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons (75 g) cornstarch
½ cup plus 1 tablespoon (70 g) all-purpose flour
2 quarts plus 2½ cups (2.5 L) milk
5 to 6 drops essence of vanilla
1 chickpea-size piece of mastic (see this page) and 1 teaspoon sugar, ground with a mortar and pestle
Dissolve the cornstarch and flour in 1½ cups (360 ml) cold water. In a large saucepan, boil the milk with the sugar until the sugar dissolves. Stir in the cornstarch and flour mixture. Cook for about 15 minutes, stirring, until it thickens and comes to a boil; boil for 30 seconds, then remove from the heat. Tilt a 14-by-11-inch (36-by-28-cm) or similar-sized flameproof metal baking pan over a medium-hot burner and ladle in a small amount of the milk mixture. Repeat several times, until the bottom of the pan is covered by the milk. Straighten the pan and hold it horizontally over the heat to burn the mixture. (To get an evenly burned milky bottom, occasionally tilt the pan back and forth.) Set the baking pan aside.
Add the vanilla and the mastic mixture to the milk mixture in the saucepan, bring to a boil, then pour it over the burned pudding in the baking pan. Refrigerate for at least 6 hours. Cut into squares and, with a spatula, invert the squares onto individual serving plates, burned bottoms up.
LEMON SHERBET used to be ubiquitous but nowadays it is a delicacy; people have not been making this delicious tangy cooling dessert very frequently. Whereas all other sherbets get their name by adding the word sherbet at the end, this one acquired one special name, limonata. Could it be that when it was served to non-Turkish people, they thought it was called “lemonade,” hence its modern name limonata? Mind you, there are special limonata glasses—about 4½ inches (11 cm) tall, with about a 2¾-inch (6.5-cm) diameter—but you can use small parfait glasses if you like. The limonata glasses are a good size, though, as each serving will be satisfying but not too much. You can add more cold water to make the limonata less sweet. To serve, you can garnish with a leaf of fresh mint, which will give it a twist.
Mint leaves, for serving (optional)
The day before serving, grate the lemons to remove the zest (you should have about 5 tablespoons zest). Add the zest to the sugar with the juice of ½ lemon, and knead well. The next day, squeeze the lemons (you’ll need about 1 cup lemon juice) and add the juice to the sugar and zest. Give this mixture a good rub with your hands to combine. Add 12 cups (2.8 L) cold water, stirring to make sure the sugar dissolves. Strain the mixture through cheesecloth. Refrigerate in a glass pitcher for at least 3 hours, or until the limonata is cold. Serve cold, with mint leaves, if desired, pouring carefully from the pitcher into twelve limonata glasses (or small parfait glasses).
THIS RECIPE is the creation of Atılay Beyoğlu, owner of the famous Atılay Balık Restaurant in Bodrum, the renowned resort town in the south of the Aegean where celebrities like Kate Moss and Beyoncé come for vacation. I loved these sweet cigars at first bite. And they are so easy to make: You just roll the tahini halva in the yufka and fry. (My version is a little more elaborate.) Chef Beyoğlu serves it with ice cream, which is a very good idea.
½ sheet yufka or 1 sheet of phyllo
5 ounces (140 g) tahini halva (available at Middle Eastern grocers), cut into 12 pieces
3½ ounces (100 g) fresh, unsalted cheese, such as ricotta or marscapone, divided into 12 portions
¼ cup (30 g) shelled unsalted pistachios
3 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar
Fold the yufka or phyllo in half six times, then cut the yufka to create twelve wedges (or divide the phyllo sheet into 12 equal pieces). On each section, place a piece of halva and a portion of the cheese at the wide end of the triangle. Sprinkle the pistachios on top. To roll, first secure each horizontal end by overlapping one side of the dough on the halva-cheese filling, then roll up each wedge, but not too tightly. Dip the ends in water to seal them. (Water will make the dough stick together, so the filling will not spill out during frying.)
In a frying pan, heat 1 inch (2.5 cm) of oil until medium hot. Fry the cigars for 3 to 4 minutes, until golden, and drain on paper towels. Sprinkle with the confectioners’ sugar and cinnamon and serve immediately.
Semolina Halva with Orange (Portakallı İrmik Helvası)
“ANYONE CAN BANG A DRUM, BUT NOT EVERYONE CAN KEEP TIME WITH THE TUNE.”
(Turkish proverb)
EVERYONE IN Turkey makes halva, but to give it the right texture requires expertise and patience because no halva forgives inattention and impatience. An important food culturally, twenty-six kinds of halva are documented in an Ottoman-era manuscript of cookery. It is one sweet always served at celebrations, after funerals, and at religious gatherings like Mevlüt (a religious poem about the Prophet Mohammed recited by a beautifully voiced man or woman to celebrate an occasion or commemorate a deceased person of the family). Its aroma while being made is heavenly—one could make it just for the smell—and that’s one reason why some must always be sent over to the neighbors when it’s done.
4 tablespoons (55 g) unsalted butter
1 pound (455 g) semolina flour (the finest grind available)
In a pot, combine 2½ cups (600 ml) water with ¾ cup (150 g) of the sugar and heat until the sugar dissolves. Let cool, then stir in the milk and orange juice.
Heat the butter and oil in a deep pot. As soon as the butter melts, add the semolina and mix well. Cook over medium heat for about 15 minutes, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, then add the pine nuts. Cook for 10 to 15 minutes, stirring constantly, to toast the semolina (see Note). When the semolina is golden, reduce the heat to very low and add the cooled syrup and the orange zest. Cover the pot and cook for 5 to 6 minutes, until all the liquid is absorbed. (Heating the pot longer than this will burn the bottom of the halva.) Sprinkle with the remaining ¼ cup (50 g) sugar, fold the sugar in quickly, and fluff the cooked halva. Let the halva sit, covered, for 15 minutes, and then serve sprinkled with cinnamon.
Note: The time required for toasting the semolina depends on the heat level, which should never be near high; otherwise, the semolina will get burned, not toasted. Turkish pots have round bottoms, so they are ideal for mixing halva. If you are a fan of Turkish cuisine, it would be wise to acquire a pot with a round bottom. Many Turkish dishes cook better in such a pot, especially dolma, pilafs, and halva.
AŞURE (from the Arabic ashura) is a special dish made on the tenth day of the Hijri (Islamic) year’s first month, Muharram. Since there is no mention of this dish in earlier documents, it must be a late Ottoman period dish, most likely derived from a similar dish called ekşi aş, meaning “tangy food,” cooked at the time of Sultan Fatih Mehmet, the Conqueror (fifteenth century). Ekşi aş was also one of the dishes served to guests at the circumcision banquets given for Şehzade Bayezid and Şehzade Cihangir, sons of Sultan Suleyman the Lawgiver in the sixteenth century. I was served a similar dish in the eastern city of Bayburt. It had all the ingredients—raisins, figs, and sweet plums—mentioned in the documents. This one was made with naturally sour rose hips juice so it was not sweet. It is most likely that this dish has picked up other ingredients like chickpeas and white beans along its journey through Central Asia. The aşure made by the Ottoman bourgeoisie was strained according to Dede Eşref’s nineteenth-century manuscript.
Since the origin of aşure is not clear, it has become commonly known as Noah’s Pudding among non-Turkish people. But it is a symbolic dish for Alevi Muslims, who make aşure on the tenth day of Muharram, the first month of the Hijri year, to commemorate the tragic killing of Prophet Muhammed’s grandson Hüsseyin. The aşure made by the Alevis has twelve ingredients to honor the twelve imams who, according to their belief, were divinely inspired. Sunnis, who make up the larger Muslim population in Turkey, do not apply such sacred meaning to the dish, but while the muhallebi houses carry aşure year round, the whole month of Muharram remains the traditional time for making aşure. It has become a way of telling people at least once a year that you are thinking of them. Aşure is made in large amounts and is sent to relatives and neighbors and friends the day it is made, its top decorated with nuts and pomegranate seeds.
2½ cups (500 g) hulled wheat berries, washed
3½ to 5 cups (750 g to 1 kg) sugar
½ cup (975 g) blanched almonds
½ cup (120 g) precooked white beans
½ cup (120 g) cooked chickpeas
4 or 5 dried apricots, cut into small pieces
3 or 4 dried figs, cut into small pieces
Rind of ½ orange, cut into tiny pieces and boiled for few minutes so that they are not too bitter
2 or 3 fresh bay leaves, if available (do not use dried leaves)
¼ cup (60 ml) natural rose water (see this page)
Let the washed wheat berries soak in a large pot with plenty of water for at least 3 to 4 hours or overnight. Drain and cover with fresh water. Cook on low heat until the berries open up and have given up all their starch. (They should be overcooked.)
Combine the sugar with 3 quarts (2.8 L) water in a large pot. Bring to a boil over medium heat and cook for 5 minutes. Add the cooked wheat berries, the almonds, beans, chickpeas, orange peel, and bay leaves, if using. Cook the aşure over medium heat until it reaches the consistency of olive oil. Add the rose water and let cook 1 minute more. Spoon the dried apricots and figs into a large serving bowl and pour the aşure over them. When cool, decorate as you like with the pomegranate seeds, walnuts, sesame seeds, and cinnamon.
Note: Aşure is a communal dish that is meant to be shared with a large group. You may adapt the fruits and nuts as you like; I like to add cooked chestnuts when they’re in season.
QUINCE IS beloved in Turkish cuisine. It adds a unique taste to both savory and sweet dishes, like these quince halves baked in syrup, and this versatility has been discovered in many of the country’s regions. A good ripe quince is also popular paired with a drink of raki. Not all quinces are soft enough to be eaten raw, however. Ekmek ayvasi (literally “bread quince”) is a favorite raw, as it is soft. Limon ayvasi (literally “lemon quince”) is harder, so it is preferred for making jam. This dessert is usually served with kaymak (clotted cream), which adds a delicate richness to their taste.
3 large quinces (each big enough for two people) or 6 small ones
Juice of ½ lemon, plus more for the quince water
2 tart apples, such as Granny Smith, peeled and cut into ½-inch (12-mm) cubes
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).
Peel, halve, and core the large quinces, reserving the removed seeds. (If using small quince, peel and core them as if they will be filled but do not empty them.) Place the quince in plenty of water with lemon juice to avoid browning if you are not using them immediately. Spread the apple cubes in a large baking pan and add the reserved quince seeds and the cloves. Add the quince halves, cored sides up (or whole quince can be placed with the cored hole on top). Mix 1½ cups (360 ml) water with the lemon juice and pour over the quinces. Sprinkle the quinces with the sugar, reserving about 3 tablespoons to sprinkle on later. Bake for 20 minutes, then turn the quince halves dome side up, sprinkle with the reserved 3 tablespoons sugar, and bake for 15 minutes, until the quince are cooked through. (If the halves start to burn on top, cover loosely with foil.) Let cool and serve.
CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: ROSE PETAL JAM, PEACH JAM, BERGAMOT JAM, AND UNRIPENED WALNUT JAM IN THEIR SOFT PEELS.
THE ROSE is considered a mystical flower in Turkish culture, and even more so in Islamic lore. It is said that the skin of the Prophet Mohammed smelled of roses. Okka roses, which bloom only briefly during the month of May, are the variety used for jam making in Turkey. Their petals are light pink with a violet tone and burst very thickly from the middle of these rather small roses. The petals impart a sweet fragrance to the jam, which can be enjoyed year round in these preserves. You may use whatever variety of rose is available to you, so long as the plants are organic and have not been sprayed with any fertilizer or chemicals, but remember not all roses will give away a scent. It is the mystical scent that makes this jam special.
10 cups (16 g) trimmed edible (unsprayed) fresh rose petals (see Note)
3 pounds 5 ounces (1.5 kg) sugar
8 to 10 tablespoons (120 to 150 ml) fresh lemon juice
Cut away the white part of the petals close to the center of the flower (they would give a bitter taste to the jam). Put the petals in a colander and rinse very gently to remove any fine dirt. Spread the petals out on a cloth in the shade to dry, then knead the petals with ½ cup (100 g) of the sugar.
Fill a large pot to no more than two-thirds of its capacity with 2 quarts (2 L) water and the remaining sugar. (Choosing the appropriate-size pot saves you from a mess when the jam comes to a boil.) Bring to a boil and continue boiling until the sugar syrup reaches the texture of olive oil when drizzled from a spoon, about 40 minutes, not stirring at all. Add the kneaded petals and cook over medium heat until the texture is a little thicker than olive oil; drops should form at the edge of a wooden spoon. At this point, stir in the lemon juice. This will dilute the jam a little, so cook for 3 to 5 minutes more over medium heat, or until the jam reaches its previous consistency—a little thicker than olive oil. (Take care that the sugar does not caramelize, as this will detract from the aroma and taste of the roses.) Let the jam cool in the pot, then transfer to clean jars of your choice. Cover tightly and store in a cool place, or you can refrigerate the jam. This thickens the jam a little but it loosens up once it is returned to room temperature.
Note: If possible, collect the rose petals directly from an organic rosebush by securing the whole blossom in your palm and gently pulling; the petals will come off cleanly, almost in a stack. Depending on the type of rose, one flower can yield 1 to 2 cups of petals. This method saves a lot of time, as it will make it easier to trim off the white parts of the petals near the stem. With kitchen scissors, cut off the white parts of the petals and discard. If you are not lucky enough to have your own rose garden, look for unsprayed roses at farmers’ markets. You may also find dried rose petals in some Latin groceries; online sources tend to be very expensive.
TO MAKE Turkish tea, one needs a çaydanlık, a pot for boiling water with a big opening for the demlik, a much smaller pot where the Turkish tea leaves or orthodox tea (finely crushed leaves) are put for brewing. I have a lot of Turkish tea–loving friends in Italy and the United States who have asked me to send them these two pots along with Turkish tea leaves. No doubt it is a good investment. People love tea offered in tulip-shaped glasses. The transparent red color of Turkish tea warms the heart, while its heat warms minds and souls. It also helps get rid of toxins and aids digestion. It will keep you awake, so you might not want to drink it at night, but it is perfect for mornings. You can purchase Turkish tea and tea-making equipment at Middle Eastern grocers or online.
Serves 6 to 8 (two tea glasses per person)
1 quart (960 ml) cold good-quality water
5 to 6 tablespoons (28 to 30 g) Turkish tea leaves or your favorite loose black tea, preferably orthodox
Put 2 cups (480 ml) of the cold water in the çaydanlık and the tea leaves in the demlik. (Pouring about 3 tablespoons cold water over the tea will hasten the brewing process.) Place the çaydanlık on a burner and place the demlik on top. When the water boils, pour half of it into the demlik. Add about 2 more cups (480 ml) cold water to the çaydanlık, and place the çaydanlık over medium heat to allow the tea time to steep. When the water boils, pour the tea from the demlik through a tea strainer into a tea glass, filling one-fifth of the glass. Fill to four-fifths with boiling water from the çaydanlık, leaving the top fifth empty for hands to hold the glass without getting burned. For another round of tea, replace the hot water poured from the çaydanlık, then refill the tea glasses. The tea may be drunk for about 40 minutes before getting bitter.
Note: If you’d like to have more than one round of tea, keep the water level in the çaydalık by adding more water each time you pour a glass.
A KURABIYE is a cookie-like pastry that is dome-shaped rather than flat. Etymologically, the name can be traced back to an Arabic term for dome-shaped objects. I like to think that it is connected, nevertheless; kurabiyes have a special buttery taste, a crumbly texture, and a festive aura. This is one of the oldest recipes for cookies, and they continue to be made for religious holidays and other important days. In the Ottoman palace kitchens, they were covered with gold leaf, and that fashion continues in the homes of the wealthy even today. My grandmother made the best dome cookies, usually for the Ramadan holiday (Sheker Bayrami). She did it all by hand, and it took her ages of hand-whisking until the butter was as white as snow. I have just enough patience to make these cookies with an electric mixer.
1 pound (4 sticks/455 g) unsalted butter, clarified (see Note)
1⅓ cups (171 g) confectioners’ sugar
3 cups (385 g) plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
30 to 32 whole blanched almonds
Melt the butter over very low heat until it is melted, but not too runny. Add 1 cup (180 g) of the confectioners’ sugar and beat with a mixer for at least 10 minutes, until the butter is white. Add the flour in batches and mix until all the flour is incorporated and a smooth dough forms. (The dough should not stick to your hands.)
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Take walnut-size pieces of dough, roll them between the palms of your hands into dome-shaped balls, and place on ungreased cookie sheets. If the dough begins to stick, flour your hands and continue. Place an almond on top of each cookie and bake for 20 minutes, or until golden. Let cool on the pans, then generously sprinkle with the remaining ⅓ cup (40 g) confectioners’ sugar.
Note: To clarify butter, put the butter in a deep pot and cook over medium heat until it begins to foam. Lower the heat and continue to cook until the foam dies and particles appear on the bottom of the pot. Finish the process when the butter is still golden and has not turned to brown. Watch carefully through the entire process, as butter will quickly burn. (You may clarify a large amount and later use it for pilafs, as it keeps well.)
AÇMA, TOGETHER with simit and çatal, are pastries sold throughout the streets of Istanbul at any time of the day. Açma is the croissant of Turkish cuisine; its history goes back to the Turks of Central Asia. Experienced bakers work their magic to produce pastries that are as light as cotton candy. I had to include a recipe for it and tasted many açmas to find the best. I finally decided to work with a master at his humble bakery. Here is the result.
Scant 8 cups (1 kg) good bread flour, plus more as needed
2¼ cups (540 ml) water—or 1¼ cups (300 ml) water mixed with 1 cup (240 ml) milk—that is hot, but not too hot, to the touch
2 ounces (60 g) fresh, wet yeast
Heaping 3¾ cups (100 g) Confectioners’ sugar
1 heaping teaspoon mahlep (see this page)
4 tablespoons (50 g) butter, softened
Place the flour in a bowl and make a well in the middle. Pour in half of the water or water-and-milk mixture; add the yeast and sugar to the liquid, mixing well with your hands. Add the oil, mahlep, and salt to the liquid and mix well. Pull in the flour and start kneading. Add the rest of the water gradually to make a very soft dough. (The dough is very sticky, so you should keep a dish of extra flour to the side to dip your hands in while working.)
Tip the dough out onto a floured wooden surface, cover with a light cloth, and let it stand in an area away from drafts for 30 to 40 minutes, or until doubled in size. Roll the raised dough out to no more than 1 inch (2.5 cm) thickness. Spread the softened butter over the entire surface and fold the dough in two, buttered side in.
Divide the dough into 20 pieces and roll each piece into a stick, 1 inch (2.5 cm) in diameter and 5 inches (12 cm) long. Make a bracelet-size hoop from each, pressing the ends together tightly. Brush generously with egg yolk and let stand at least 1 hour or until doubled in size.
Preheat the oven to 425°F (220°C). Sprinkle the tops of the açma with the nigella seeds and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until golden brown.
KATMER IS a favorite traditional pastry. It is rustic and can accompany jams and honey. The addition of walnuts and sugar make it crunchy and more exciting.
½ ounce (15 g) fresh, wet yeast
1 teaspoon sugar, plus 5 tablespoons (60 g) for sprinkling
2 cups (255 g) plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour, plus more if needed
¼ cup (100 g) unsalted butter, melted
Dissolve the yeast and 1 teaspoon of the sugar in the nearly hot water and wait until it foams. Put the flour in a bowl, make a well in the center, and add the salt and the yeast mixture. Knead until the dough is uniform and feels softer than an earlobe but leaves the hands clean. If the dough sticks to your hands, gradually add a little more flour, or add 2 to 4 tablespoons more water if the dough is too stiff. (Each type of flour has a different absorption rate.) Cover the bowl with a clean cloth and let sit in a warm place until the dough rises by one-third, about 45 minutes (the exact rising time will depend on the temperature of your surroundings).
Flour a work surface and roll out the dough with a rolling pin to form a circle with a 20-inch (50-cm) diameter. Generously brush the dough’s surface with the butter and tahini, then evenly sprinkle with the remaining 5 tablespoons (60 g) sugar. Make a hole, 2 inches (5 cm) in diameter, in the middle of the dough. With your hands, beginning at the hole and working out to the circumference, roll the dough until you have a circle about 22 inches (55 cm) in diameter.
Cut the circle into four equal pieces and, without lifting the dough from the table, roll each piece into a round. With the rolling pin, roll each round into a disc 4 to 5 inches (10 to 12 cm) in diameter.
Cook the pastries in a pan over medium to low heat without oil or butter, 3 minutes per side, or until brown spots appear all over both sides. Serve hot or warm.
Crêpes with Tahini and Pekmez (Petule)
I ENCOUNTERED a recipe for this pastry in a manuscript of Ottoman recipes. Coincidentally, I found a similar regional recipe from southeastern Turkey called şıllık, a Turkish term used for women who dress too fancily. Perhaps the fanciness of this dessert inspired folks to give it this regional name instead of the name used in the palace. In the traditional recipe, the dough of this crêpelike pastry is made with yeast. I decided to replace the dough with crêpe batter instead since crêpes are now popular on Turkish tables. Ottoman Turks were one of the first peoples to experience globalization in their food culture; consider this another small contribution.
6 to 7 tablespoons (90 to 105 ml) pekmez (see this page)
Mix together the tahini, sugar, and pekmez and brush onto the crêpes. Roll each crêpe tightly, then cut into 1-inch (2.5-cm) square pieces. In an ovenproof serving dish, arrange the cut crêpe squares snugly next to one another, with the cut ends facing up. (This looks pretty and is suggested in the Ottoman recipe.) Sprinkle with the walnut pieces. Cover with foil and bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until they are warm (1 minute more or less will not make a difference). Serve warm with a sprinkle of cinnamon and sugar, if using. (Sugar particles will enhance the texture.)
2½ cups (600 ml) milk, plus more if needed
2 cups (255 g) all-purpose flour
4 tablespoons (55 g) unsalted butter, melted
Mix the eggs in a food processor or blender, gradually adding 1 cup (240 ml) of the milk. Mix in 1 cup (130 g) of the flour. Alternating, add the remaining 1½ cups (360 ml) milk and 1 cup (130 g) flour. (This method creates a smoother, more uniform batter.) Mix in the melted butter and salt. Preheat a crêpe pan or a skillet no more than 8 inches (22 cm) in diameter until hot, remove it from the heat, and slowly pour about ¼ cup (60 ml) of batter to cover the bottom of the pan very thinly. Tilt the pan back and forth to spread it evenly. (If you are using a crepe maker, it is domed, so its shape will help to disperse the batter.) Once bubbles appear on the dough, carefully flip the crepe using a flexible spatula. Cook the other side for about 30 seconds, then slide it onto a plate. Make sure you have two plates to stack them up; otherwise the hot crepes will stick to each other. (Thinner crêpes yield the best results, so try to make the crêpes as thin as possible. To thin the batter, add a little milk.) Repeat with the rest of the batter, using ¼ cup (60 ml) of the batter to make each crepe.
Easter Sweet Bread (Paskalya Çöreği)
THIS SWEET yeast bread used to be made in the homes of Istanbul’s Christian population at Eastertime, as its name Paskalya suggests (Paskalya means Easter in Turkish). It eventually became a specialty of Turkish bakeries that is popular among Muslims and Christians alike. The mastic used in this precious legacy of the Ottoman Christians is a reflection of the empire’s means and the palace’s cuisine. Paskalya cöreği is a type of çörek (sweet breads eaten on their own as snacks) that can now be found at bakeries throughout the year, not just during Easter.
2 ounces (55 g) fresh, wet yeast
6 tablespoons (90 ml) nearly hot water
6¾ cups (880 g) all-purpose flour
1½ teaspoons mahlep (see this page)
1 chickpea-size piece of mastic (see this page) ground with a mortar and pestle with 1 teaspoon sugar
5 large eggs, at room temperature
1 cup (2 sticks/455 g) unsalted butter
Dissolve the yeast and the 1 teaspoon sugar in the hot water and wait until it foams. Add to 1½ cups (200 g) of the flour and knead until smooth. Cover the dough with a clean cloth and let sit in a warm area until the dough doubles in size, about 45 minutes. Add the remaining 5¼ cups (680 g) flour, the mahlep, and mastic and knead until smooth.
With a mixer, beat the whole eggs with the salt, the 1½ cups (300 g) sugar, and butter until the mixture whitens, then add to the dough. Knead for 3 to 4 minutes, until the dough is elastic. Let sit, covered, in a warm area until it doubles in size, 45 minutes to 1 hour.
Knead gently so that the dough falls. Divide the dough equally into six pieces, then divide each into three portions to create eighteen in all. Roll each section into a 6-inch (15-cm) length and braid three of them together to create six braids in all. Let sit, covered, on a baking sheet in a warm area until they double in size, about 1 to 2 hours, and then brush with the egg yolk.
Preheat the oven to 400°F (210°C).
Bake for about 30 minutes, or until golden. Served warm or at room temperature. This bread keeps well if covered.
THIS COFFEE drink may rightly be called indigenous to Turkey because it is made with Turkish-grind coffee, which is very finely ground—almost as fine as cocoa powder. It is served like tea in Turkish tea glasses, not in the finjans described above. These tulip-shaped glasses make hot tea or coffee with milk easy to hold. I love to drink it before going to bed. I find that the little bit of coffee does not keep me awake, and the hot milk is very soothing and makes me ready for sleep. This recipe makes enough coffee to fill one Turkish tea glass. In order to make it, you will need a special copper coffee pot called a cezve (see details above). These can be purchased online for a modest price, as can the tea glasses. (Alternatively, I’ve provided instructions for making this drink in a diminuitive saucepan, but the cezve will yield the best results.)
1 small tea glass of milk (⅓ cup/75 ml)
½ heaping teaspoon Turkish coffee
Put the milk in a cezve or in a small pan used for heating milk. Add the coffee and, if desired, sugar to taste. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly. When the milk rises up, pour into a tea glass and serve.
