Nazuktan: Turkish eggplant appetizer with mint & almonds

When I was a little girl, we used to sing a little ditty about going round the mulberry bush. I had no idea what a mulberry was, but at least I knew it grew on a bush! ...Or so I thought.

The first time I saw an actual mulberry was in Shiraz, Iran--the city of roses and poetry. Two giants of classical Persian poetry are buried there, and the mulberries were growing in the mausoleum of one, Hafez. And they weren't growing on a bush, either. Our dear hostess reached up an plucked what looked like very long blackberries from a tree and offered them up to an amazed Young Man and I. I mean, is it even okay to DO that in a sacred burial place??! It turns out that it is, and the three of us enjoyed a few sweet and sour berries, while other visitors sat on the steps of the monument reading poetry in quiet tones or milled about enjoying the gardens round about.

The next time I saw mulberries was at the local park in my parents' town to the west of Melbourne. Imagine my surprise at the free bounty to be found just across the way from the jungle gym! It was not long before some Turkish picnickers joined us and, between us, we just about stripped the poor saplings of fruit. Our Turkish friends know a good thing when they see it (g).

I was not surprised, then, to find dut pekmezi (mulberry molasses) on an expedition to procure supplies from the Turkish-run Middle-Eastern superstore Basfoods in the Melbourne suburb of Brunswick. I thought the mulberry tartness would make this pekmez a fine substitute for the sometimes over-sweet notes of regular (grape) pekmez in this lovely blackened eggplant dip from Ghillie Basan's Classic Turkish Cookery. As it turns out, mulberry pekmez is quite sweet, too, so a little more lemon juice was required.

Nazuktan: Turkish eggplant appetizer with mint & almonds

4-5 Asian or 2 regular eggplants
juice of 1/2 lemon (or to taste)
2-3 cloves garlic, crushed with salt
1 tbsp pekmez
2-3 tbsp roasted almonds, roughly chopped
small bunch fresh mint (approx 20 g), roughly chopped
salt and fresh ground black pepper

To garnish
few whole roasted almonds
fresh mint leaves

1 Place the eggplants under a hot grill or hold them directly over a high gas flame, turning them until the skin blackens and they become very soft. Slit them open and scoop out the flesh.

2 Chop the flesh to a pulp and put it in a bowl. Add the other ingredients, except the pekmez, and mix well. Season to taste.

3 Place in a bowl and drizzle with the pekmez. Garnish with the roasted almonds and mint leaves and serve with flatbread.

 

Enjoy!

Fried potatoes with paprika and mint

I was in a bind. I'd not done the weekly grocery shop as fridge space and time was at a premium getting ready for my big party. I literally just had staples in the house, and no chance to get groceries in before the weekend! It was a bit of a challenge, but the Young Man and I managed to eat very well, thanks to a binder full of recipes like this one I printed up ages ago from NPR.

S&L readers will probably already be familiar with the quintessentially Turkish paprika-mint flavour profile. It seems to have been news to NPR food writer T Susan Chang, however. She charmingly tells of her discovery here, and throws in a few recipes for good measure, including some adaptations of recipes from Australia's very own Greg and Lucy Malouf!

Essentially just potatoes, fat and spices, these are totally addictive! I made them to go with a red lentil soup (not the one in the article), so we had a Turkish supper made only from kitchen cupboard basics. I reckon these would also be great with beers (if you're into that) or instead of potato chips in front of the TV (if you have time for that).

I've upped the paprika and mint by 50% below, and added some cayenne to my own portion. Enough is just never enough with some people (g).

Fried potatoes with paprika and mint

900 g yellow-fleshed potatoes, such as Yukon gold or carola
Salt
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 teaspoons sweet paprika, divided
1 1/2 tablespoon dried mint, divided
Salt and pepper to taste

1 Fill a large saucepan with water; add the potatoes and as much salt as if you were cooking pasta. Bring the water to a boil, then simmer for 20 to 30 minutes, depending on size of potatoes, or until you can just pierce them with a sharp skewer. They shouldn't fall apart. Drain the potatoes and set aside to cool.

2 When the potatoes are cool enough to handle (and don't rush it), cut into 8 mm slices with a sharp knife. If you have large potatoes, divide them lengthwise in half before you start slicing, so you end up with half-moons rather than coins.

3 Heat the largest, heaviest skillet you have — cast iron works best — over high heat until it makes a water droplet dance. Add the olive oil, swirl it and immediately add the potatoes, half the paprika and half the mint. Spread the potatoes out into a single layer as best you can (you may need to do two batches). Let them cook without disturbing for 3 or 4 minutes, or until they have formed a gorgeous golden crust. Flip them over with a spatula, and cook the other side the same way, for 3 or 4 minutes. (If you're really obsessive about getting a good crust, as I am, you may find yourself swapping the outside potatoes into the center a few times.) [Me too, Susan]

4 Season with the remaining paprika and mint, and salt to taste. You don't really need pepper, but you might like it. Serve immediately.

Enjoy!

Kabaklama: Turkish autumn lamb stew with pumpkin, lemon and mint

Here is a wonderfully rich and savoury stew from Paula Wolfert's The Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean. A look at the ingredients list confirms the simplicity of this dish, but not the complexity of the flavour. The decisive element is the aromatic oil "flourish," redolent with mint, pepper and chilli (if you can get away with it (g)), at the end. Don't skip this step--it really takes this stew into sublime territory!

I was telling my dear friend Se, who hails from Konya, Turkey, about this stew, and she quizzed me on the inclusion of pumpkin. In Turkish, kabak means either zucchini or pumpkin, with the former the far more commonly used ingredient. (At least in savories; dear Se was actually serving up a simmered pumpkin dessert when she mentioned this.) Perhaps the writer was mistaken?

Unusually, Paula doesn't give much information about the source of this particular recipe, but I have complete trust in her research. Her recipes are usually spot on. And as a translator myself, I say that if this is the quality of food you get from a possible mistranslation, then bring them on!

I have yet to get a hold of Turkish red pepper paste (biber salcasi) here in Japan, so substituted the equivalent of tomato paste and as much cayenne as I thought I could get away with. I adjusted Paula's recipe for the pressure cooker. If you don't have one, the meat will take at least double the time to cook in step 2.

Turkish autumn lamb stew with pumpkin, lemon and mint

45 g lean shoulder of lamb cut int 2.5 cm cubes and including all bones
1 1/4 tsp freshly ground back pepper
3 tbsp olive oil
1 cup chopped onion (1 large onion)
1 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp pepper paste [Saffron: or substitute extra tomato paste]
1 1/2 tsp minced garlic (around 2 coves
1 1/2 cooked chickpeas
1 large ripe tomato peeled seeded and chopped
6 cups pumpkin peeled (around 1kg [S: I used a mix of regular and butternut pumpkin]
1/2 tsp salt
4 tbsp fresh lemon juice (around 2 lemons)
Pinch of Aleppo pepper or chilli or to taste

1 Trim the meat of excess fat and sprinkle with half the back pepper. Heat 2 tbsp of oil in a medium-large pressure cooker over medium heat. Add the meat and cook, stirring, until all moisture evaporates, abut 7 min. Add the onion and cook stirring for 1o min.

2 Add the tomato and pepper pastes and cook stirring for 5 min. Add 1 1/2 cups water, cover and bring to pressure. Cook under low pressure for 25 min, or until the meat is tender.

3 Add the garlic chickpeas, tomatoes, pumpkin and salt. Add water to barely cover contents. Cover and cook (without pressure) until the pumpkin is tender, about 15 min. If chickpeas are very tender, add them right at the end.

4 Stir in the lemon juice and remove from heat.

5 Heat the remaining 1 tbsp of olive oil in a small pan until sizzling; add the mint, red pepper and remaining 3/4 tsp back pepper, and stir for an instant. Swirl the oil over the stew, stir once, and serve hot.

Enjoy!

A picnic triad 1: Ottolenghi's kisir: a Turkish tomato & bulghur salad

It was time, once again, for the annual picnic in commemoration of dear friends H and Hi's meeting some 15 years ago--on a picnic. Coming around 10 days later than usual, the weather for this year's picnic was nothing short of spectacular.

I was still humming and hawing about what to make 2 days out, but remembered seeing the recipe for this this Ottolenghi take on the classic Turkish bulghur and tomato salad kisir (pronounced "kuh-suhr") on the Guardian website and thought it might go down alright.

I had made kisir before using Claudia Roden's recipe in Arabesque: A Taste of Morocco, Turkey & Lebanon. Delicious though it was, it didn't really do it for my Turkish guests at the time. Then I had it in Konya, Turkey and all became clear. Claudia's version was a true salad (no cooking!) where the Konya version I had involved stove time and was no side dish.

Looking at my notes from Turkey, I see that the onions were fried in a copious amount of oil, the tomatoes (and red pepper) in the dish were in paste form, and peeled and diced cucumbers joined in the fun. In Konya, at least, kisir is a meal of itself. A great mound is placed on a communal platter and everyone takes his share, parceling it up in lettuce and other leaves, with maybe an extra chilli and a dollop of pomegranate molasses or squeeze of lemon for good measure. Heaven!

Ottolenghi's version more closely resembles that tart, tomato-stained grain dish (though minus the cucumber). I like this fairly sharp, so I've upped the lemon and pomegranate molasses. I also left out the chilli on the day as there were to be a lot of Young People at the picnic.

The Ottolenghi kisir has a pretty pomegrate seed and mint topping that adds a nice festive touch, but which I doubt is authentically Turkish. I packed the topping ingredients separately for the picnic and added them when we were ready to eat. Short of time, I didn't take washed lettuce leaves with me, but it might be fun to do that next time.

Here's a picture of the three dishes I ended up taking to the picnic. Recipes for the other two to follow shortly.



Ottolenghi's kisir

Serves 6-8 as a main dish or a great crowd as an appetiser

2 large onions, peeled and finely chopped
60 ml olive oil, plus more to finish
2 tbsp tomato paste
4 tomatoes, peeled and chopped
90 ml water
400 g coarse bulghur wheat
1 tbsp pomegranate molasses
1 lemon, juiced
6 tbsp chopped parsley (flat-leaf, for preference)
3 spring onions, finely shredded, plus an extra one to garnish
2 green chillies, deseeded and finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1 tsp ground cumin
Salt and black pepper
Seeds from 1 pomegranate (optional, to garnish)
1 handful mint leaves, some whole, some roughly shredded

Cos lettuce, cabbage and other green leaves, to serve (optional)

1 In a large saucepan, sauté the onions in the oil until they turn translucent - about 5 min. Add the tomato paste and cook over medium heat for 2 min, stirring all the while with a wooden spoon. Add the chopped fresh tomatoes, leave them to simmer on a low heat for 4 min, then add the water. Bring to a boil, remove the pan from the heat and stir in the bulghur.

2 Add the molasses, lemon juice, parsley, chopped spring onion, chilli, garlic and cumin. Season, stir, then set aside until the salad has cooled to room temperature or is just lukewarm.

3 Taste, adjust the seasoning as necessary--it will probably need plenty of salt--and spoon on to a serving dish. Roughly flatten out the salad with a palette knife, creating a wave-like pattern on the surface, then scatter pomegranate seeds over and about. Drizzle olive oil over the top and finish with the mint and the extra spring onion. Serve with cos, cabbage and other green leaves for wrapping.

Enjoy!

Yogurtlu makarna: Turkish pasta with meat & yogurt-mint sauce

This pasta dish, according to Classical Turkish Cooking author Algar hanim, is a kind of cheats manti, or Turkish ravioli. It is absolutely delectable and super easy. If you are the type that tends to have mint around or even growing in the garden, you'll probably have everything to make this on a total whim. I know I did.

Unlike the Western way with spaghetti bolognese, meat is more of a condiment in this sauce. The real flavour, and it is bold and strident, is in the mint and the garlic. In fact, I would even go so far as to suggest that the recipe name be changed to pasta with meat & yogurt-garlic-mint sauce! If you have any objections at all to raw garlic in food, this may not be the recipe for you. Everyone else gather round, because this is a real treat.

Before you start, get your yogurt out of the fridge as it needs to be at room temperature. Mine wasn't, and didn't get close to it before the pasta was ready, so I actually tossed the pasta-meat mixture with the yogurt sauce in the pan and heated it, very gently, through.

I also bypassed the paprika-butter flourish (so-called by the doyenne of North African and Mediterranean cooking, Paula Wolfert), mainly due to the cost of butter in Japan these days. But I know from my time in Turkey (where I saw butter in logs that must have easily weighed 2 kg!), that toppings like this add a real richness and flavour to a dish. Given the small amount of meat in the dish, I'd say that if butter is not a luxury item in your neighbourhood then you should definitely go for it!

Yogurtlu makarna: Turkish pasta with meat & yogurt-mint sauce

Serves 4

Meat sauce
3 tbsp olive oil
3/4 cup chopped onions
250 g minced meat
1-2 chillies, seeded and finely chopped (optional)
2 sprigs thyme
Handful of chopped flat-leaf parsley
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Yogurt-mint sauce
3 cups yogurt, at room temperature
2-3 tsp crushed garlic
2 tsp fresh mint leaves, finely chopped

450 g penne or rigatoni (S: I used fusili)

Butter paprika topping
5 tbsp butter
3/4 tsp Hungarian paprika
Pinch of cayenne

Fresh mint leaves for garnish

1 To make the sauce, cook the onions in olive oil until soft. Add meat, chillies (if using), thyme, and parsley and brown the meat. Stir in a few tablespoons of water, season with salt and pepper, cover, and simmer 10 minutes, adding more water, if necessary.

2 To make the yogurt-mint sauce, put all ingredients in a bowl and beat with a wooden spoon until the mixture is very creamy. Set aside on a warm spot on the stove.

3 Cook and strain the pasta, and reheat the meat sauce. Toss the pasta with the hot meat sauce and place in a serving bowl. Pour the yogurt-mint sauce over it.

4 For the topping, heat the butter until frothy, add the paprika and cayenne, wait one second, and drizzle it over the yogurt-mint sauce. Sprinkle the top with mint leaves cut into ribbons and serve hot.

Enjoy!

Two Turkish appetizers: Acili ezme and yogurtlu havuc salatasi

There was a cute little Turkish eatery literally 3 doors down the road from us a couple of years ago. Since my part of Yokohama is a decidedly non-"ethnic"-food locale, the restaurant did not last long, but ooooh the spicy tomato meze! I would have done the dishes to get a hold of that recipe. In fact, I failed even to find out what it was called. Not even a trip to Turkey (and many a meze plate) solved this little problem. This summer, I finally got a tip-off from the waitress at a Turkish restaurant in Tokyo. Perhaps it was acil domates (spicy tomatoes)? Close, but no cookie.

Turns out that this spicy salad cum dip is called acili ezme, and I found a recipe at the brilliant Turkish food blog Binnur's Turkish Cookbook. Only problem was that with the end of the tomato season nigh, I had to make this like now!

But one appetizer does not a meze make. So from my Must Try pile, I chose a carrot salad with yogurt or yogurtlu havuc salatasi from another favourite Turkish food blog Almost Turkish.

I thought these would make a nice contrast: one fresh and spicy, the other creamy and herby.

When I made the acili ezme, the was rather wet (even having seeded the tomatoes), but that could be because my toms were smaller, or because I reduced the amount of parsley in order to tempt the Young Man into trying it (g). Next time I might reduce the amount of lemon juice to compensate. You might have to scout out the sumac and pomegranate paste/molasses for this one. Both are souring agents that can't really be substituted; better to just leave them out if you can't find them.

The carrot salad was a real treat; the YM scoffed down his share despite the "offensive" presence of dill (admittedly reduced for his benefit). I drained the yogurt (in a lined sieve for about 30 min) for mine, mitigating any need for mayonnaise to thicken it. We had the salad without the raki recommended by Burcu at Almost Turkish, but it was mighty fine just the same (g).

Together or apart, these two meze will definitely be appearing on our table again. Now I just need to get some more Middle Eastern bread for next time!

Acili Ezme: Turkish Style Tomato Dip

3 tomatoes, seeded and chopped very finely
1/2 red or white onion, chopped very finely
1 cup parsley, chopped very finely
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp pomegranate paste/molasses
2-3 tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp cayenne pepper, crushed, or to taste
1 tsp sumac
Salt

Crush the onion with sumac and salt with your hands. Mix all the ingredients in a service bowl. Refrigerate for at least an hour before serving.

Yogurtlu Havuc Salatasi: Turkish Carrot Salad with Yogurt

4 cups of grated carrot
1 cup plain yogurt, preferably whole milk [S: drained for half an hour if you have time]
1-2 cloves of garlic, chopped very finely
2 tbsp olive oil
3-4 tbsp finely chopped fresh dill
salt
1 tbsp mayonnaise (optional)

Heat oil in a skillet and add grated carrots. Stir until carrots are wilted. Put carrots in a bowl with yogurt, garlic, dill, and salt. Mix well. Serve with crusty bread and any kind of meat.

Enjoy!

Mualle: Turkish eggplant, tomato and lentil stew with pomegranate

I was searching for the source of a spicy Turkish tomato dip recipe I'd printed out but not got round to making (soon, though, as the tomatoes are already past their summer's best!), when I came across this lovely looking Turkish stew on the delish-looking Turkish food blog Almost Turkish.

With lots of lovely summer veggies AND pomegranate molasses, I put the tomato dip idea aside and jumped on this instead. And it really is glorious. I cooked mine under low pressure in the pressure cooker for 30 min, but it could easily have been less (I'll be trying 20 min next time). Even at 30 min, the lentils and the eggplant didn't turn to mush, and the latter was that a silky-smooth, unctuous texture you usually only get from frying them in copious amounts of olive oil. Score one for Burcu at Almost Turkish for this healthier alternative! Since there is no water in this recipe, I gave the pressure cooker a good shake from time to time at the beginning of cooking. Nothing stuck to the bottom of the pot, and a lovely thick sauce had formed when I opened it up.

Since the Young Man is back (wahoo!), I didn't add the full quota of chillies in the recipe, so my version has just a warm back note. Also, my pom molasses is a sweetish variety, so next time I'll probably add some lemon juice as well to tarten things up a bit. I also upped the fresh mint in this. I used fresh peppermint, but perhaps the dried would have been better afterall.

Either way, this truly delicious and totally virtuous dish is definitely a keeper.

Mualle: Turkish eggplant, tomato and lentil stew with pomegranate

3-4 long narrow eggplants, peeled in lengthwise stripes
1/2 cup brown lentils
1 medium onion, chopped
4-5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 long thin green chilli (or to taste), seeded and chopped
2 tomatoes, diced
4 tbsp fresh mint, chopped or 2 tbsp dried mint
1 tsp crushed red pepper
1 tbsp tomato paste
2/3 cup olive oil
3 tbsp pomegranate molasses
salt [S: I used maybe 2 tsp]

1 Peel the eggplant partially, leaving lengthwise strips of skin. Cut eggplants in 4 lengthwise. Chop every piece crosswise into 3. Place them in layers in a sieve, sprinkling salt between the layers as you go. Let them stand for an hour to remove the bitter juices [S: I did it only as long as it took to get the rest of the ingredients pot-ready]. Squeeze out any excess juices by hand.

2 Bring green lentils to a boil with 2 cups of water. Reduce heat to medium and simmer until lentils are soft. Drain and set aside.

3 In a bowl, mix tomatoes, green chillies, onion, garlic, mint, salt, crushed peppers, and tomato paste.

4 Coat the bottom of the pressure cooker with 1-2 tbsp of olive oil. Put 1/2 cup of the veggie mix on the bottom. Cover with half the eggplant, then half the lentils, and half the remaining veggie mix. Top first with remaining eggplant, then with lentils, and then with veggie mix.

5 Pour the remaining olive oil down the side of the pressure cooker. Sprinkle the pomegranate molasses over the top.

6 Bring the stew to a boil. Put on the lid and bring to pressure, then reduce the heat to low and pressure cook for 20-30 minutes, shaking the pot from time to time to prevent the stew sticking to the bottom.

Mualle is good with rice and yogurt.

Enjoy!

PS The spicy tomato dip recipe is here.

A picnic offering: Imam bayaldi

It's that time of year again! A time when one of my dearest friends commemorates the day she met her future husband at a picnic on Greenery Day, a national holiday in Japan, and one of a series of national holiday known here as Golden Week.

Fourteen years down the track, H&H are going as strong as ever, and the core group of friends that get together each year to commemorate the momentous day has got a system going for who brings what to the picnic. In previous years, I have taken salads, while H&H bring the sandwiches and O&T a fab selection of cheese and special homemade breads. Since the Young Man is the biggest of our offspring, I basically don't take kid preferences into consideration any more. I was a bit worried my selection might be a bit "adult", but it seems that the rest of the group counts on me bringing something a little less nursery in nature. Good to know!

This year I was planning on taking some quiches from Cynthia at Tastes Like Home's yummy-looking recipes, but alas, time was not on the side of baking up a storm. Instead, I got in on the bread scene as well, with my Argentinean chimchurri bread, to go with tzatziki and muhammara. A nice little selection of meze. But I couldn't quite let go of the veggie idea, and whipped up a batch of imam bayaldi, or Turkish stuffed eggplants, to go alongside.

A picnic offering (clockwise from L): Imam bayaldi, Argentinean chimchurri bread, tomato kasoundi chutney, muhammara, tzatziki

I have several recipes for this world-famous dish. One is from Haci Abdullah's, a fabulous restaurant that my dear Turkish friend U took me and some Japanese friends to when we stayed with her in Istanbul last summer. Established in 1888, Haci Abdullah's is an Istanbul institution (Orhan Pamuk even mentions it in his memoirs) , and one I would certainly have missed if not for dear U. Apart from the wonderful food (it really was superb; absolutely a must visit if you're in Istanbul), I was impressed that they provide free postcards and little booklets in several languages with some of their favourite recipes!

Another recipe, surprisingly, appears as "imam bayeldi" tucked in amongst all the Christian recipes in The Real Greek at Home, which I recently picked up for a song (despite strict orders to myself to reign in the cookbook purchasing!). Anyway, good to see that political differences are put aside when it comes to good food! I am all about that (g).

However, I went with this particular version, which I first made years back, when, not knowing where Konya was, wasn't even aware that I was making a Turkish dish! It is from Najmieh Batmanglij's delicious stroll along the old caravan routes: Silk Road Cooking: A Vegetarian Journey, where the dish, whose name translates as "the Imam fainted" (whether from gourmet pleasure or from the cost of all that lovely olive oil that goes into its making), is called Konya eggplants with onion and garlic.

Now this is a little misleading to be sure. Since I have it on good authority from my good friend Se, a Konya native, that imam bayaldi does not contain mint. I quite like it here, but am more than happy to compare this recipe with others to see which is the best (g).

I actually visited Konya last summer, and although I didn't have any imam bayaldi there, I can tell you the food was delectable, and the people lovely. One kebabi even knocked half the price off the lunch I shouted dear Se's mother and nephew, who accompanied me on my second pilgrimage to the tomb of Persian poet Rumi (Mowlana in Persian and Mevlana in Turkish).

Konya eggplants with onion and garlic (Imam bayaldi)

6 eggplants, peeled (leave the stems intact)

Filling
1 cup olive oil
2 large onions, peeled and thinly sliced
6 cloves garlic, crushed and peeled
1/2 cup fresh chopped mint
1 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp ground cumin
2 large tomatoes, peeled and sliced [S: probably diced is better]

1 Make a slit, lengthwise, in each eggplant without opening the ends. Soak the eggplants in a container of cold water with 2 tbsp course salt for 20 minutes. Drain, rinse, pat dry and set aside

2 In a large skillet, heat 1/4 cup oil over medium heat and slightly brown the eggplants on all sides.

3 Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius. [S: My oven may be a bit low; next time I will do this at 200 degrees C]

4 Arrange the eggplants side by side on an oiled baking dish.

5 In the same skillet, heat 2 tbsp oil over medium heat and add the onion and garlic. Stir-fry 5 minutes [S: I reckon you want to go for broke with the onions and get them caramelising at this stage. Maybe fry an extra 5-10 minutes]. Add the remaining ingredients for the filling and stir-fry for 1 minute longer. Remove from the heat.

6 Open up the slits in the eggplants with your hands and stuff each eggplant with the onion mixture. Drizzle the remaining oil and 1/4 cup water over them. Cover with aluminium foil and bake for 1 hour, until soft.

Enjoy!

A Persian New Year 2: Muhammara and a light-as-air white loaf

When I have a party, I usually try to make something from the culinary repertoire of the homelands of all my guests. This time we were having a celebration for No Ruz, the Persian New Year, which is also celebrated to some extent in other countries that were once under the Persian empire, and among the Kurdish people living in Iraq (as we know from my friend Zanmei's blog) and way over in the east of Turkey. In the rest of Turkey, from where my guests hail, the day is apparently known as the Spring Festival.

Anyway, having yet to suss out any special foods eaten in Turkey during this festival, I went ahead with a lovely Turkish red pepper and pomegranate (again!) dip, known as muhammara, that is totally to die for. I have two recipes for this, one in Alyar Esen Algar's Classical Turkish Cooking: Traditional Turkish Food for the American Kitchen (mentioned earlier), and the other in Australian food legend Stephanie Alexander's opus magna, The Cook's Companion. (This is the point where I get to say what a joy it was to dine in Stephanie's eponymous Melbourne restaurant with the YM (then 18 months) in tow. The food was, of course, to die for, but the fact that boisterous young folk were welcomed so warmly only sealed the restaurant's place in my affections. Regrettably the restaurant is no more, but the memories remain.)

Anyway, I made Stephanie's version again, as it always gets such rave reviews whenever I serve it.

I made it this time with breadcrumbs from the Argentine chimichurri bread I made the other day because Japanese commercial bread contains ingredients that are no-nos for Muslims, and anyway, who is going to complain about more flavour, right? I served it with my dear friend H's bread, which the YM is forever asking me to make (being perhaps the only person in the world doesn't like more flavour in his bread (g)). I was out of wholemeal flour, so used all white flour, substituting 10 g of oatmeal for 10 g of the total weight of flour. It turned out a treat.

Being a starter, I only cut half the loaf, but it quickly became obvious that the Young People around the table wouldn't be satisfied with that. They managed to demolish the whole thing in about 2 minutes, and could easily have polished off another loaf if I'd had it!

Turkish pomegranate and red pepper spread

Makes 1 1/2 cups [S: Note that the measures in this recipe are Australian. Use the measures in brackets if you do not have a set of Aussie measuring cups]

1/4 cup (62 ml) extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup (125 ml) fresh mixed-grain or sourdough breadcrumbs [S: I used some of the Argentine Chimchurri bread from earlier: yum]
1 tsp cumin seeds, crushed
1 large red pepper, roasted and peeled
60 g walnuts
1 tsp freshly chopped garlic
1/2 tsp hot chili past or to taste
2 tsp pomegranate molasses
2 tbsp (40 ml) lemon juice
salt

Heat 1 tbsp of the oil in a small frying pan and saute breadcrumbs and cumin, turning frequently, until lightly golden and smelling wonderful. Remove from heat and tip onto a plate lined with kitchen paper. Roughly puree red pepper, walnuts and chili paste in a food processor, then add crumbs, pomegranate molasses, lemon juice and remaining oil. Taste and adjust balance with salt and, if necessary, more pomegranate molasses and lemon juice [S: I've mistakenly added 2 tbsp of pom molasses before and thought it tasted great!]. Scrape into a container and cover. The spread will keep for 2 weeks in the refrigerator.

Auntie H's light-as-air bread maker white loaf

15 g honey
210 ml water
180 g white bread flour
100 g wholemeal bread flour [S: also works if the wholemeal flour is not of the bread making variety]
17 g butter, diced
5 g salt
10 g powdered milk
10 g dry yeast

Place ingredients in the pan of the bread maker in the order recommended by the manufacturer and bake using the white bread function.

Enjoy!

Albondigas di Prasa: Turkish leek meatballs

This past weekend, we had a Young Lady stay with us while her mum and dad went out for an early Valentine's celebration. To celebrate at this end, the YM and I took our guest out to our favourite local izakaya (Japanese tavern) for what I reckon is the best Japanese pub grub you're likely to get, and huge glasses of Calpis (a fermented milk drink) that the YL just about had to climb up on the chair to drink. (Not being a huge fan of Calpis, I had my usual perilla plum wine instead.)

Ichinokura, as the izakaya is called, has been my favourite feeding and watering hole for more years than I care to remember. While Japan is full of fabulous eats, you generally have to loosen the purse strings quite a bit to partake of them. Good food that won't break the budget is less easy to find. But we have consistently enjoyed great food and super-friendly service at Ichinokura since before the YM was even born (he's 13 now). When he was little, the huge scary-looking mask they have on display near the cash register somehow became an obake (ghost), so the restaurant has been known by one and all in our circle as Obake Restuarant ever since. The Young Lady was, it seems, immune to the goul's scare tactics, but certainly not to the food: she gobbled up her fair share.

Overnight, Yokohama was treated to snow (again!) and the Young Lady's mum and dad had to trudge through it all to pick her up. Which was all a good excuse for some more fun in the kitchen, really. This time a leek and potato meatball recipe called out to me, so I gave it a go.

I adapted this from a recipe in The Book of Jewish Food. The original recipe called for deep frying the meatballs, but I am not a huge fan of deep-frying, so I tried shallow-frying them instead. I was so-so about the end result, but when I fried up the remainder of the batch as patties a little later, they were creamy and delicious, just like Claudia promised.

I am fascinated by the name of this dish, which appears to be from Izmir, or Turkey, at least. But Claudia tells us that Albondigas is from the Arabic. I don't know about the di prasa bit, but it sure doesn't sound Turkish to me!

And if any Turkish people reading wonder if this is actually a Turkish dish, Claudia tells us that it is rarely to be found outside of Jewish homes, but it is available from a Muslim-run Jewish restaurant called Kaser Levi Lokantasi. Now that is fusion cooking!

Albondigas di Prasa: Turkish leek meatballs

500 g leeks
2 small potatoes, weighing about 250 g
250 g chicken mince
1 egg
salt and pepper
flour
oil for frying

Trim and wash the leeks and cut them into pieces, then boil them with the potatoes until they are very soft. Drain, and when the vegetables are cool enough to handle [S: note the last point well!], press them between your palms as hard as you can to get all the water out that you possibly can [S: I found wringing them in kitchen paper did the trick]. This is very important in order to make the meatballs firm.

Now put the leeks, potatoes, meat and egg into the food processor with about 1 tsp of salt and pepper and blend to a soft paste. [S: I found my paste a bit "wet", so added some flour to stiffen it up]. Shape into little round flat cakes about 6 cm wide and pan-fry in oil, turning them over once. Drain on kitchen paper and serve hot.

Claudia tells us that the creamy meatball/fritters are often served with a fresh tomato sauce made a little sharp with lemon juice. Does that sound like our garlicky and minty sauce from the Iraqi meatballs?? You bet. So this is how we peacefully merged Turkey and Iraq on a plate.

And the response: Cleared plates from everyone except the YL, who was not really in the mood for trying Auntie Saffron's weird culinary creations and had to be brided to try just one little bite (g). Not to worry, though. Mum managed to down the extra portion and the YL "made do" with rice and furikake (dried fish and vegetable flake topping) to fortify herself for the snow-slowed trudge home.

Enjoy!

Nar eksili patlicanli kofte: Turkish meatballs with roasted eggplant and pomegranate-tomato sauce

By now it is apparent even to me that my taste for pomegranate is not going to be contained to the Christmas season. Then again, if you've got a bottle of pom molasses (also known as pomegranate syrup or paste, but never grenadine), why not flaunt it, eh? (Although it will live happily in the fridge for a year or more so there really isn't any hurry...)

I was always going to fall for this recipe, really. Not only does it showcase my current fruity favourite, it also gives me a great excuse to try out those "hot spices" that my Turkish friend gave me. Aside from the molasses, there is nothing particularly exotic here, but the combination is definitely not your everyday meatballs (kofte), that's for sure.

The tender and juicy kofte are richly savoury by themselves, but the sweet-sour sauce really takes them to another plane. Most of the recipes I have for kofte/kufteh/kofta (and all the other variant spellings) call for de-crusted bread steeped in water and squeezed out. This technique really does make the meat extra succulent, and should not be reserved just for Middle Eastern-style meatballs and patties. For the spices, I substituted 2 tsp of "hot spices", and it provided just the right heat for me. (I'll definitely be trying to hunt down a recipe for this spice blend.)

This recipe comes from Classical Turkish Cooking: Traditional Turkish Food for the American Kitchen by Ayla Esen Algar. As you will see from one of the reviews on Amazon, this book may not please those that need pictures of the food to entice them into giving something a go. All things being equal, I have to say that I'd rather have more prose on the historical and cultural background of a country's cuisine than a few colour plates, and in Classical Turkish Cooking, Ayla hanim more than makes up for the lack of photos with her fascinating and poetic insights into the food of her homeland. It is erudite stuff, and in that, she's right up there with Claudia Roden in my book. And that is praise, indeed.

Although it is a relatively slim volume, there are many more recipes I want to have a go at sometime. One being the stuffed mussels that my dear friend U insisted I try in Kadikoy just half an hour or so after we'd stuffed ourselves silly with grilled kofte, white bean salad and 2 huge glasses of homemade ayran (the Turkish take on lassi). She said they were her absolute favourites, but I have to admit I did pause to consider whether, sitting so pretty and gleaming all tucked up in their shells in the hot Turkish sun, they might not trigger some unpleasant tummy situation I would live to regret. As it happened, these lemony and allspicy dolmas of the sea ended up being one of my very favourite things to eat in Turkey. How lucky will I be if I can find mussels in Japan big enough to permit the stuffing. But I digress...

Nar eksili patlicanli kofte: Turkish meatballs with roast eggplant simmered in a pomegranate-tomato sauce

If pomegranate syrup is not available, use pomegranate juice sharpened with lemon juice, or a fruity vinegar.

Kofte mixture

2 slices of bread, crust removed
450 g twice-ground lamb (beef can be substituted) [Saffron: I used chicken and it was lovely]
1/2 onion, grated
1 1/2 tsp freshly ground cumin seeds
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1/4 to 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

4 tender long green peppers, Hungarian peppers, or 2 poblanos [S: these are not readily available here, so I left them out]

4 or 5 Japanese eggplants [S: I think she means regular nasu around 8 cm long, not naganasu, although I used naganasu and didn't come to grief]

Pomegranate-tomato sauce
4 large ripe tomatoes, peeled and chopped
2 tbsp olive oil
5 scallions [spring onions], white and green parts, chopped
Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 tbsp pomegranate syrup
Chopped flat-leaf parsley

To make the kofte, put bread in small bowl with water and let soak until soft. Squeeze dry by hand and put in bowl with lamb, onion, spices, olive oil and parsley. Shape into small kofte [S: I made mine balls about the size of walnuts] and pan grill them in a hot cast iron skillet brushed with oil. Place the kofte in a heavy shallow pan in one layer, and set aside. Roast the peppers directly over a gas burner until brown blisters appear on their surface. If you are using the poblanos, they will take a little longer to become soft and you will need to peel and halve them.

Roast the eggplants directly on the gas burner until black and charred. Cool, peel, and cut off the stems. Then cut them into 1/3-inch-thick [S: I did them into 1.5 cm] rounds and place them over the kofte in the pan.

To make the sauce, cook the tomatoes in olive oil, mashing down with a fork for 4 or 5 minutes. Stir in the scallions and pepper flakes and cook until the mixture forms a watery sauce. Season with salt and pepper and stir in the pomegranate syrup or whatever substitute you have. Stir in half the parsley and pour the sauce over the kofte. Cover and simmer, adding 1/4 cup water [S: I didn't think the sauce needed it], over low heat about 20 minutes, until the eggplant is soft and the kofte are hot. Serve sprinkled with parsley.

Enjoy!