“And by the way, what are we going to be cooking?” – this is the question that gets me thinking for the whole evening before a cooking class. Menu planning is always about the right balance of enthusiasm and efficiency, I find. Turkish cuisine is hardly short of options and it is easy to create a new menu every time to maintain variety and my enthusiasm. Yet I know for a fact that there are simple dishes which are bound to be a success and no wonder I am tempted to include them in every cooking class.

Here are a few principles which I have learned to use in menu planning for my cooking classes and regular life. It is thanks to them I stay organized and yet truly excited about the food I am cooking.

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I thought I solved the problem of dressing properly in Istanbul a while ago. I have figured how not to get unwanted attention yet stay true to my own style in the city where with equal odds you will see a woman in long trench coat and head scarf and a lady with go-go girl make-up in a shape-flattering dress, lace stockings and long heels.

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I spent Saturday rolling paper-thin phyllo dough, or baklava yufka how we call it here in Turkey. Some twenty baby versions of the giant sheets my mother-in-law rolls out. With that long-long thin-thin rolling pin which could as well be an instrument of torture but serves as a kitchen utensil instead.

This is what I call a higher purpose. I am always looking forward to that rare free day in Istanbul when the break between my food tours and cooking classes is to short to go back to the farmhouse. I picture myself experiencing the delicious sheerness of Istanbul, savoring and exploring. Only that I stay in my flat most of the time: experimenting with new recipes and going out only to get a bottle of sun-flower oil from bakal downstairs and latte from Starbucks. Me, a first-rate foodie who is supposed to shop only from Kadikoy market and drink nothing but the Fazil Bey’s roast.

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Everything got little twisted as it usually happens with me: I baked the Greek Easter bread known as Paskalya Çöreği in Turkey for my Orthodox Easter this Sunday morning. I know only a few of you would share the Easter sentiment but maybe you can understand how it feels not to be “normal” most of the time. I blame it on being Russian, being a woman, sometimes on both. Sometimes there is nothing left to blame it on so I take the blame.

My Easter is different from yours, I don’t celebrate Christmas but have all those Christmas delights for the New Year. Take whatever place in the world – I am either not from there or I have left it long time ago to identify with it. I am a Russian married to a Turk: but not that kind of Russian and not that kind of Turk you most likely to know about. I gave up trying to resolve my concerns about all that and have learned to embrace and celebrate my abnormal ways. So why not on Orthodox Easter – April, 15 2012?

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My first encounter with nettle soup took place in my childhood when my grandma made it one fine spring. But my grandma (my dad’s mom) was always a bit of an exotic woman to me.

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