So here I am in the midst of my 3-month sabbatical. For starters I wanted to discover the Balkan region I had been itching to see for too long, to find out vegetarian origins of some of the most meat-reputed national cuisines, to share food and stories with like-minded foodies and yet more importantly - to give myself space and freedom and define the exact place that food has got to take in my life. Quite a mission!
In this pursuit I bought a one-way ticket to Zagreb as this was there I had agreed to catch up with a longtime friend for starters. This is how I ended out touring Croatia from north down to south: I’ve discovered how to beat the heat while keep eating in Zagreb heated up to 45C, sampled traditional Croatian vegetarian treats in the best eateries in the country’s capital, felt in love with the olive oil and Malvazia white wine of gastronomically blessed Istria and found more vegetarian wisdoms at the most tranquil guesthouse of the whole Croatia Villa Pape of Ira Degmecic-Rakic than I could hope for.
As I continued my search of the “real” Balkans I headed out to Bosnia and Herzegovina where I have found such a wealth of yet undiscovered by the rest of the world gastronomic traditions: I have sneaked into a kitchen at a guesthouse in the Podveleje mountains to find out how paper-thin phyllo dough is rolled out for burek, a traditional Bosnian pie, resumed my coffee drinking with the first sight of how they serve their take on Turkish coffee in Bosnia, eaten vegetarian for 3 weeks in Sarajevo and got to hang around the kitchen of the best (and vegetarian!) restaurant in Sarajevo and assist its talented chef and the owner. I knew that Albania, Macedonia and the rest of the Balkan bunch couldn’t wait receiving me either but it was time to head out to Turkey where the ultimate deal had to kick off.
I have figured that mere mentioning your aspirations to the people around (gotta find the right people and the right around, though) can bring you far by prompting the horizons you could not even picture before. During my last visit to Istanbul I mentioned to a friend of mine that I was really keen on learning more about food and Turkish cooking specifically. He mentioned a farmhouse on the hills in Sapanca, an hour drive away from Istanbul, where he goes for amazingly delicious food turned by an Egyptian-born lady. He went as far as suggesting I go and stay with her for a while to learn Turkish cooking. Ever since I had been considering the idea even though it always seemed only remotely real to me. Still I had organized my trip schedule to get to Istanbul after the Ramadan and had started learning some Turkish to ensure I can communicate at least basics once I arrive.
I received a warm welcome as I came to Istanbul: for a week I was joining the iftars, messing up the kitchen as I cooked a vegetarian iftar myself, shopping for food, talking about food and above all - eating. But also I made a few sallies from the historical peninsular, which another friend called “The Disneyland of Istanbul”, to the places where most of the Istanbullus actually live - to the assorted districts of the European and Asian sides. There I ate, shopped, met people and got to realize that I was attracted to the city more than ever.
By the second week I got local enough to show around my visiting sister: I was happy that beyond the regular tourist program we discovered the pleasures of living in a flat versus a hotel, hopped quiet cafes of the Beyoğlu backstreets just a few minutes away from the Istiklal madness, met with a few friends of mine, got to know the food vendors in the neighborhood as shopping for our breakfasts, enjoyed a great jazz concert and an impromptu performance of a Turkish jazz legend Ilham Gencer in a cozy ambiance of Nardis jazz club. And we did go to Sapanca farmhouse for dinner.
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After a crazy uphill drive we found ourselves in a farm soaked in the lush greenery with many small paths, a few buildings and no sight of a fence. When from the dining terrace we saw the beautiful lake and the shimmering lights of the nearby towns in the pre-dusk light my sister announced I had her blessings to stay at this place. As the tray with meze (a selection of starters in Turkey) arrived and was sampled with scrutiny there were no doubts left - if there was a place to learn Turkish cooking this would be the one. After the meal we sat down with Zeliha Hanım, the host and the patron of the place, and discussed the details: my friend Mehdi who brought us there walked her through my blog and promoted me as a food enthusiast, I communicated my expectations and asked about Zeliha’s.
- How can you help here? - she asked me.
- I am willing to do anything, - I promptly offered as nothing seemed too much for the opportunity to be at this farmhouse where people took pride in what they are doing. - Help at the kitchen, do dishes and clean, join for shopping.
The deal was sealed! In the end I was shown a room where I could stay and met the staff of three.
A week later I packed my stuff, left the flat in Beyoğlu, bid farewells to the urban delights I got used to in the past weeks and headed out to Sapanca. The 2.5 hours train journey was my first introduction to the Turkey as it’s lived and witnessed by its people beyond the tourist routes. A young guy who got seated next to me addressed me as sister, welcomed me to Turkey and shared a candy; later on a lady offered a few biscuits and somehow we conducted a brief chat on my origins and destinations. I figured I would not be let down with such sympathetic travel companions.
There was some ubiquity about my arrival time though: I did not seem to make it by the time the lady at the Haydarpaşa train station mentioned and it looked that the time given on my ticket was for final destination and not my stop - go figure! And I was supposed to let Ali Bey, the husband of Zeliha Hanım, know when to pick me up from the train station. I was trying to assemble the Turkish words I knew into phrases that would sense and secretly hoping that things will sort themselves out. At the end Ali Bey called. I said, “Iyi aksamlar. Ben Sapanca istasion’da”. He replied, “Gidiyorum” and we were settled. While waiting I got brave enough to ask for a bottle of water at the station shop in Turkish and entertained myself with the idea that with my urban chic clothing I would make a great appearance at the local wedding party which was going off as you could tell by the merriest music I had ever heard.
Ali Bey helped me load my stuff and we drove through the darkness in the complete silence. He said his English was not great yet it sounded so much more advanced than my Turkish, I thought. As we arrived I was welcomed by Zeliha Hanım, young smiling lady Bahar and the two cats. The conversation was brief as everyone was forgiving to my lack of Turkish and did not want to create confusion. I’ve figured that Bahar would be my guide into the Turkish reality though as she actively started communicating with me. There were no guests at the farm and a quite evening was a good time for some soap opera watching and soap opera watching we did. I immediately got immersed into the world of the complex Turkish family relationships and dramas, foreign words that buzz around and gather into swarms like bees, stereotypes, memories and expectations coming alive and happy feeling of anticipation. Anticipation of what? Of being immersed! Oh my, I hope I will be able to float at least.
