Table Of ContentPublished in 2015 by Stewart, Tabori & Chang
An imprint of ABRAMS
Text copyright © 2015 Engin Akin
Photographs copyright © 2015 Helen Cathcart
Additional photographs by Bekir İşcen (this page, this page, this page, this page,
this page, this page, this page, this page, this page, this page, this page) copyright
© 2015 by Bekir İşcen
Styled by Helen Cathcart All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2014959137
ISBN: 978-1-61769-172-0
Editor: Camaren Subhiyah
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CONTENTS
Foreword
Introduction to Turkish Cuisine
Spices and Ingredients
PART ONE
SMALL PLATES (MEZE)
•
Appetizers
Dolma and Sarma
Shish Kebabs and Kofta
Salads and Condiments
PART TWO
MAIN DISHES & ACCOMPANIMENTS
•
Soups
Vegetable Dishes
Rice and Bulgur Pilafs
Meat and Poultry
Fish and Seafood
Egg Dishes
PART THREE
BREAD, PASTRIES & PASTA
•
Bread and Savory Pastries
Pasta and Dumplings
PART FOUR
SWEETS & BEVERAGES
•
Desserts, Turkish Tea & Coffee
Acknowledgments
Sources
Index of Searchable Terms
Foreword
The first time I saw Istanbul was as a student in the mid-1980s. Back then,
donkey carts still trundled across the old iron Galata Bridge and the dolmuş
(shared taxis; same etymology as the word dolma, or “stuffed”) were hoary
1950s Plymouths and Chevrolets. And from the very first day I was smitten. I
couldn’t get enough of the magical skyline with its domes and rocket-like
minarets; I kept riding the hulking white public ferries at dusk as the skies flared
up cinematically over the sixth-century silhouette of the Hagia Sophia. But
mainly I was hooked on the food. With its succulent kebabs and simple grilled
fish, its healthful vegetable stews, bright salads, böreks (shaggy savory pastries),
and sun-ripened vegetables, Turkish cuisine seemed to me like the last
undiscovered frontier of Mediterranean cooking. I got addicted to the tulip-
shaped glasses of strong, sweet tea drunk in shady tea gardens. I loved the
dollhouse-like baklava shops and the scent of grilled mackerel sandwiches along
the docks. I spent my evenings at meyhane, atmospheric dens serving raki (an
anisey spirit) and all manner of meze (small plates), from creamy garlicky dips
to stuffed mussels. Even the slender cucumbers sold by street vendors as a
refresher seemed somehow ambrosial. And the meals often came framed by
views so breathtakingly beautiful, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that the city
was a mirage.
More than a decade later, as a newly minted food writer, I returned to report a
magazine article on Istanbul’s foodscape and had the blessed luck of having
Engin Akin as my guide to the city’s clamorous bazaars, smoky kebab joints,
and genteel fish restaurants on the Bosphorus shores where white-jacketed
waiters ceremoniously mosaicked the table with meze. Though previously we’d
met only briefly at a food conference in Greece, Engin tended to me with
unflagging zeal—Turkish hospitality personified. Going around with Engin was
thrilling, and a little intimidating. A walking textbook on Ottoman food mores
and vernacular street snacks, she examined spices like a sultan inspecting troops,
haggled fishmongers and butchers into submission, imperiously waved away any
morsel of food she considered imperfect. Together we searched for the ultimate
lahmacun (wafer-thin, lamb-topped flatbreads baked in a wood-burning oven),
the most pistachio-intensive baklava, and the plumpest mantı (thimble-size
dumplings) served under a tart cloak of yogurt.
I kept returning to Istanbul again and again, until finally, besotted with the
city and inspired by Engin, I ended up buying an apartment there—a little place
with a Bosphorus view. Now I own my own set of tulip-shape glasses for
sipping tea while gazing at the boat traffic outside my window. Istanbul’s
restaurant food is more delicious than ever, but it’s nothing compared to the
flavors in people’s homes—especially Engin’s home, where dinner could
involve an Ottomanera stuffed melon, an epic lamb shank with burnished,
caramelized quince, and homemade halva for dessert.
Over some two decades of friendship, Engin and I have cooked together at
many different places. Or rather she’s cooked and I’ve watched—and tried to
keep up and take notes. “Turkish cuisine marries palace finesse with rugged
nomadic traditions,” Engin will expound while fashioning an addictive börek
from thin sheets of yufka pastry and a meat filling sweetened with masses of
onions, or while putting a fragrant finishing flourish of mastic on an Ottoman
pilaf. On Engin’s boat during an indolent Aegean voyage, instead of the usual
boat fare—makarna, or pasta—she’ll concoct a sophisticated warm salad of
bulgur studded with walnuts and pomegranate seeds.
At the cooking school Engin operates in her stately ancestral home in the
traditional hamlet of Ula, I’ve learned my all-time favorite eggplant preparation:
charred over live fire, briefly sautéed in olive oil with sun-dried tomatoes, then
presented on a bed of garlicky yogurt with a finish of sizzled brown butter. That,
and a majestic clay pot–baked chicken stuffed with spiced rice. At Engin’s
Istanbul house, I’ve watched her throw an impromptu meze party for ten on her
lush grassy lawn overlooking the Bosphorus. From that bash, I picked up her
recipe for dainty herbed köfte (meatballs) laced with pistachios, which I make all
the time, and braised fresh pinto beans scented with cinnamon.
Back in New York, craving more “Engin food,” I’ve urged her many times to
write a Turkish cookbook in English. Finally, that book is here. It’s the product
of Engin’s skills as a cooking teacher, her flair in the kitchen, and her deep love
and knowledge of her country’s cuisine, culture, and history. The recipes you’ll
find in it are both classic and fresh. As the title suggests, the book is indeed
“essential” thanks to primers on Turkey’s garlicky dips, smoky grilled meats,
plump stuffed vegetables, earthy meat-and-legume stews, and syrup-drenched
pastries. But there are also surprises aplenty. You will be introduced to
zeytinyağlı (zey-thin-yah-lih), a wondrous silken veggie confit in which beans or
artichokes or leeks are braised for an eternity in olive oil with a secret pinch of
sugar that teases out their natural sweetness. You will discover fresh, surprising
flavor combinations such as lentils with quince and mint from the town of Bolu,
bulgur with chestnuts and tangerines (Engin’s invention), and every iteration of
eggplant. And if, like me, you regard cuisine as a window onto culture and
history, Engin’s texts on everything from the grand kitchens of the Ottoman
palaces to the evolution of Turkish meze rituals will keep you up all night
reading. Welcome to the wondrous world of Turkish cuisine.
— Anya von Bremzen
Introduction
FROM THE BLUE SKY TO THE BLUE SEAS:
TURKISH CUISINE FROM ITS ROOTS TO THE PRESENT
When you think of Turkish food, you may envision the sumptuous array of small
plates known as meze—delectable savory pastries filled with meat and
vegetables, hummus and smoky-eggplant dips served with grilled flatbread,
refreshing cucumber salads, and briny olives, all shared communally alongside
drinks. Or perhaps you’ve purchased shish kebabs, succulent char-grilled meat
on a stick, from a street vendor. If you have a sweet tooth, you may also conjure
up images of the pastel candies called Turkish delight, or flaky pastries dripping
with honey, served alongside a small, dark and frothy cup of Turkish coffee.
Turkish cooking is all of this and so much more.
The Roots of Turkish Cooking
This venerable cuisine has its origins in pastoral times, when Turks lived in what
is now called Mongolia, north of China. The history of these Turkish tribes can
be traced back to 3000 BCE. Descended from the Huns, the Hsiung-Nu, as the
Chinese called them, were said to be the best archers and horsemen on the Asian
steppes, and legend has it that the Chinese built the Great Wall to guard against
their invasions.
Over the centuries, as these nomadic tribes moved westward to the sea,
Turkish cuisine came to encompass a fusion of food cultures inspired by not
only the diverse inhabitants and landscapes of Turkey’s expanding borders, but
also through trade with countries near and far, from China to India, Persia,
Arabia, Eastern Europe, and the entire coastline of the Mediterranean and almost
the entire northern half of Africa.
