Tag Archives: foodie

The Demise of the Horse and Cart

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One of the most unique aspects of living in the Village is knowing that the freshest of fruit and vegetables, straight from the farm, can be found just by walking out my front door.  Yes the horse and cart is a mainstay of village life here in the Village and each day I am inundated with vendor’s selling everything from fruit and vegetables and fresh milk (yes I have found a supplier) as well as being utilised to transfer firewood and charcoal, agricultural day workers, and even, on occasion, kids to and from school.  Basically, the horse and cart are an integral part of my life.

For us Turkish housewives (which I am calling myself now despite not being Turkish nor a particularly good housewife) having the vendors come to you door means that we, who are extremely busy keeping our homes spotless, working in the farms and feeding our families (none of which I am doing but I stand by my statement that I am a Turkish housewife), do not need to leave our homes to shop and everything will come past at some stage over the course of the week.  This means I get the freshest of fruit and vegetables while practicing my inadequate Turkish on the vendor.  I am a source of amusement for the vendors too as I try and purchase their goods and negotiate the price all the while trying to control My Hurley Dog who, due to the fact that he has Small Dog Syndrome, hates every animal on site that is bigger than him.  I am quite sure I am one of the highlights of their day.

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With the change of Government from CHP to MHP in Mersin one of the first laws brought in by the new Government is outlawing the horse and cart as the Government body believe that they are inhumane and outdated (and they poop everywhere).  Sure no one likes horse poop outside their front door but what happens to the horses I questioned?  Sadly (and definitely even more inhumane) many of them have been sold for food but a few others are put out to pasture to live the rest of their life peacefully after all they have worked hard every day pulling their owner’s cart through rain, hail, snow and extreme heat.

And what are out options now for daily deliveries?  This morning a small tractor pulled up outside with a cart attached with fruit and vegetables.  The vendor tells me (via a lot of hand gestures and laughter) that the cost is higher now (as I found when I purchased some muz) as he has to pay for diesel.  Also stopping by was the vendor that usually sells kitchen and household goods.  He has purchased an old motorbike with a cart on the back.  It was apparently very expensive to purchase and sadly he had to sell his old horse to pay for it.  Poor thing.

 

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Turkish High Tea

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The first thing you need to know about Turkey is that Turkish people love their cay (tea).  Man or woman they have their own distinct way of enjoying a cay and whether you drink it or not you are going to learn to love it.

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The men can usually be found in a cay evi or tea house where they play cards, argue about futbol or politics and hide from their wives all the while drinking copious amounts of cay.  The women are usually too busy to spend their day in a cay evi as they have their chores around the home but once those chores are finished they can often be found getting together for a good gossip, cay and something delicious to nibble on.

On Monday I was informed that the neighbouring ladies wished to come to my house for gün.

Gün means day but it also has another meaning that you may not be so familar with. It is also the word for a home visit, where women visit one particular friend and eat pastries and drink cay. It is a very traditional custom here in the Village and it seemed it was going to be my turn next.

I kid you not when I tell you I almost shat myself at the idea.  Putting aside the fact that I don’t speak anywhere near enough Turkish to hold a social gathering I also make really crap cay.  The Turk arranged for my sister in law Songul to come and help host the get together (thankfully) so all I had to do was show up (and provide my home).

Thursday afternoon was chosen and sure enough at 1 pm my doorbell was ringing off the hook.  The Turk sensibly excused himself as soon as the first neighbour arrived and before I knew it there were 12 Turkish ladies from new mothers to a great, great grandmother arriving for cay and a good gossip.

As each lady arrived she handed over a plate of sweets or cakes and these were added to the biscuits I had purchased from the patisserie that morning along.  My kitchen was overflowing with food!

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Of course I had no idea what was going on most of the time and was so thankful that Songul was there to host the event.  I spent most of my time handing out kahve and cay, ensuring that everyone had enough to eat, giving tours of my home (as most of them had not been before and giving them something to gossip about next time they get together) and chasing My Hurley Dog away from the teyze (aunt) who was allergic to dogs.  I listened as they talked about their husbands, babies, neighbours, me, The Turk and just about anything else they could possibly gossip about.

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By 4:30 pm it was time for the ladies to be on their way as they needed to go and start dinner for their husbands, children, family, neighbour, friends, visitors, etc.  A final round of cay was drunk along with pieces of Turkish Delight before the ladies started for the door.  Lots of kisses and invites for visits before I could throw myself on the couch and process the afternoon.  It seems I now have to go and visit each of them and thank them for coming and have cay with them.  This Turkish socialising is exhausting.

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Nighttime snack in Adana

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The Turk and I went to Adana recently to watch a band.  I cannot remember the name of the band, it was a pretty OK band, but for the point of this story the band is irrelevant.  As we left The Turk suggested a quick meal before we trek back to Mersin.  I nodded and pictured an Adana Kebab with all the trimmings.  Yummo.  It’s probably the Turkish equivalent to stopping by Harry’s after a big night out in Sydney.

We walked for a couple of minutes before stopping at a likely looking little Esnaf Lokanta.  It was packed.  Ever table in the lokanta was full.  There were people sitting in the gutter eating from plastic containers and people in the park across the street enjoying a little outdoor picnic.  Yes this place definitely looks good plus I was starving so when The Turk pointed out a couple leaving in the corner I raced for a seat.  I was happily perusing the menu when The Turk started to get extremely excited.  He waved over a waiter ordered me a Kebab and then ordered something I had never heard of before – Şirdan. 

Our meals were placed before us and after one glance of The Turk’s dish I literally wanted to upchuck!  I didn’t have a camera with me so I had to google to get a suitable one (thank you tour gordon).  Get a gander at this.  Şirdan is either sheep or cow stomach stuffed with meat and rice.  Cooked up in a large pot and then served with cumin and pepper it is a delicacy here in Adana.  Had The Turk looked up from his dish of repulsion he would have seen I had turned a wicked shade of green – I had had too many red wines to watch him chow down on this particular meal.  I decided to wait outside breathing in the fresh air rather than the pungent smell of cooked intestine. 

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Where is Macca’s when you need it?

Mix in a little Indian

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Back in Sydney The Turk was a bit of a chef.  His pizza was legendary.  His BBQ’s were famous from Palm Beach to Penrith and his Turkish food was spectacular.  Since arriving in his homeland I hate to say it but he has become slack in his culinary efforts and has basically left it to me to do the cooking and remember I have said it before – I can’t cook!

When we packed up our lives to move here I slipped a couple of extras items into the moving boxes.  2 jars of Pataks Butter Chicken paste, 2 jars of Tandori paste and 2 boxes of pappadums.  I knew I would not be getting any Indian food in Turkey.  We went through those curry pastes pretty quickly and sadly found ourselves returning to Turkish cuisine.  Doesn’t that sound ridiculous?  I love Turkish food but here it is just food.  There are foods from home, foods that are uniquely Sydney that I craved.  Pub lunches – I craved these.  Bacon – well of course I craved bacon.  Sunday night pizza.  BBQ’s on a hot summer night.  Manly Italian with the girls.  Indian banquets with Carls and Tracy.  Damn but I drooled over those curry pastes.

While rummaging through the pantry the other night I found a jar of Pataks paste that hadn’t been opened!  A forgotten jar of Butter Chicken curry paste!  I nearly pee’d my pants I was so excited and, yes, we had Butter Chicken that night for dinner (with yogurt instead of cream).  I made a Garlic Naan (of sorts) using Pide bread, Indian onion salad (no coriander) and cucumber raita.  No pappadums sadly and of course it is a curry paste not real curry but after not having had Indian since September at my favourite Indian Restaurant in Epping my kitchen smelled divine, my tastebuds were excited and I was in foodie heaven.

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I have to say I offered my curry extravaganza to all my Turkish relo’s but none would partake.  They looked, sniffed and screwed up their noses left, right and centre.  Excellent – more for me!

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God I miss bacon

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Seriously.  I was sitting at my desk this morning writing an email and I swear I could smell bacon.  Thinking about bacon right now is making me drool.  Literally drool.  God I miss bacon.

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Bacon is without doubt the best food on earth.  There are not many foods that can evoke this type of enthusiasm from me this early in the morning but bacon definitely takes this prize.  So versatile that it can be used for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  It can be eaten on its own or adding it to anything else will only enhance the original dishes flavour.  Salad?  Yep throw in some bacon.  Roasts?  Spread bacon across that bad boy sizzling away.  Sandwiches?  Burgers?  Omelettes?  What can’t bacon improve?  God I miss bacon.

I don’t miss pork.  Never a big fan.  I do love crackling though.  God I miss bacon.

Ham.  I miss ham.  I miss The Turk’s pizza.  His pizza was seriously the best pizza in Sydney.  I miss ham and God I miss bacon.

I thought I had tracked down some ham at Migros a couple of days back.  They were selling Jambon which means ham in English.  Nearly wet myself.  After examining the packet I still thought it was ham.  I got it home.  I was wrong.  It was beef ham?  WTF??  God I miss ham and God I miss bacon.

There is a piggery in Antalya I could go to.  Antalya is, I think, a 6 hour drive from here (but 30 minutes on a plane).  Would that seem excessive?  To jump on a plane to purchase bacon?  Would I bring it back as hand luggage?  Would they even let me bring it on the plane?  God I miss bacon.

I hate bacon jokes.   I hate bacon meme’s.  They are cruel.  They are everywhere.  Every time I open any social media a joke or a photo of bacon appears.  It is akin to torture for a person in my peril.  God I miss bacon.

The Turk tells me I am being overly dramatic.  Yes, yes I am.  God I miss bacon.

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