Aegean Skillet Greens

I love traveling off-season. Alaçatı, an upscale resort town on the Turkish Aegean coast, that overwhelmed me during the family trip last fall, looked much more promising this April. I did not mind that our hotel staff was busy installing doors at the rooms upstairs, that the nearby restaurant folks were painting their chairs “Aegean blue”, that you could hear the sound of a saw and hammer everywhere, that on Thursday night only a few places were open for dinner. None of that could cancel the blossom on the lemon trees, kids playing on the streets, air filled with anticipation and the carelessness one could feel only on the seaside.

Last fall we caught the tail of the passing season with the streets full of day trippers from Izmir, couples on a short romantic getaway and holiday makers enjoying the last few days in their summer houses. Everything I saw in the Turkish glossies featuring Alaçatı came alive: whitewashed stone houses, paved narrow streets, laced curtains, white and blue colors, smell of dried lavender and thyme, rustic wooden furniture, restaurants named after the Aegean culinary glory Kabak Ciceği (Courgette Flower), Roka (Arugula), Fesleğen (Basil) and such, small cute things and the light-minded dresses you could only wear in Alaçatı. Only that I did not believe any of that: the whole town with its hotels, restaurants, cafes and shops was a Disneyland of a kind. It was your dream of Aegean: everything you wanted it to be was readily available, with a price tag attached.

It took a second visit before the season kicked off at all to see beyond that. We took the parents, this time Özgür’s, got in a car and headed out for the of Alaçatı Ot Festivali. Because we could not stay for the weekend, mom still says we missed all the fun of wandering around the stalls where the local women were offering assorted creations of greens and herbs. Whereas I think we had the most fun of all: we have connected with people who live and work in Alaçatı, in the way impossible during the high-season rush.

Last fall we dined at Asma Yaprağı (The Vine Leaf) that serves home-style cooked Aegean dishes. They procure the most adorable fresh seasonal ingredients from the local markets and cook them simply. What started as a small kitchen with a communal table and a few tables on the pavement outside has grown into a serious restaurant operation. In September we had to adjust our plans to eat there: the restaurant does only dinner, and I could get a table for 5 only for the two nights later. We dined next to the Russian Minister of Health who was attending an international conference in Çeşme and a party of 15 celebrating a lavish birthday.

At arrival a waiter escorted us to a table under a branchy tree in the large garden, lit by the many night lamps aka styles enamel teapots and lamps hidden under the hanging baskets. Looking at the tableware - heavy cut glass, serving glass bowls similar to the crystal dishes reserved in every post-Soviet house for the special meals and vintage-style plates - you could tell we dined at somebody’s home, not a restaurant. I marveled the work of the brain that has conceived this dining space and the work of the hands that have engraved the idea in every little detail.

Instead of giving us a menu our waiter invited us to the kitchen where the owner and chef (and you could tell she was, even if you have never seen her before) Ayşe Nur Hanım walked us through the offering of the day gorgeously presented in the enamel dishes on a large table in the middle of the kitchen. And as she did I was stealing looks at the kitchen itself that was a dream for anyone who ever considered - even for a second - to have a house in a seaside town.

Needless to say that after such an introduction my expectations about the food reached the sky. I hate to admit, but the meal disappointed. I found the food too simple and even bland; I was in the Ottolenghi’s Jerusalem phase that summer looking for bold flavors and complexity. At the first convenience I even recreated one dish from that meal - courgette flowers stuffed with cheese and herbs - to prove one could do better.

This April we got back to Asma Yaprağı on the first night: meze sounded like a fine idea since none of us was very hungry after a big late lunch of squid and fish en route in Izmir. The restaurant operated in the low season mode without the garden yet: only the original kitchen and a few tables outside. We got seated immediately, this time without booking 2 days in advance.

Among the dishes I recognized a few from the last fall, but overall the offering stroke me as seasonal: blessed thistle (şevket-i-bostan), artichokes, fresh fava beans and skillet spring greens, among the rest. We chose 7 or 8 meze and got back to the table. The food was the same as last fall: simple ingredients, only few of them at once, simply treated and seasoned only lightly. Yet, this time I enjoyed the meal. I assume my elimination diet and the detox I completed just 3 days before that trip have got my tastebuds ready to appreciate the most humble tastes. Every dish delighted me.

As we were dining, Ayşe Nur Hanım walked by to ask how we were doing. “Oh, we are enjoying and talking about food,” my husband reassured. “I love conversations about food,” she replied. “Why don’t you join us then?” Özgür suggested. She did not expect such a turn, but agreed to take a seat on the chair Özgür offered. And we started talking…

After mom complimented her on the food Ayşe Nur Hanım explained that her aspiration was to recreate the dishes cooked in her family where each member had its signature recipe such as baked pumpkin (sinkonta) of her aunt or green tomato stew of her mother. Zeytinyağlı like that and tandır her father loved have become the core of the Asma Yaprağı’s menu.

The more we talked the more I saw Ayşe Nur Hanım’s talent of a storyteller. With small strokes she brings alive the memories of growing on the Aegean with the vibrant markets, local seasonal ingredients, communal laboring over simple yet abundant meals and family dinners in the garden continuing late into the night. And this is what her food and restaurant is about. And this is why we enjoyed that quiet April evening with her and her food at Asma Yaprağı.

The next day we met with her again, at her cooking demo where she made skillet greens. I think of that dish as an essence of her cooking philosophy: simple food that makes you feel at home on the Aegean, even if for just one meal.

A storyteller who operates not with words only, she brought along a basket of spring greens and a huge red enamel pot to cook them. The greens included mallow (ebegümeci), poppy greens (gelencik), beet greens (pancar sapı), nettle (ısırgan), wild fennel (arapsaçı) and more common chard (pazı). Many greens appeared so exotic to the folks at the demo that some had to clarify their names, and I saw a few curious ones tearing off a leaf or two to taste after the demo. To create a balanced dish, Ayşe Nur Hanım added to the greens red Romano peppers for the color and the toasted pine nuts for the crunch.

As I was sampling the cooked greens, I realized it had been a long time since I had seen vibrant greens when eating outside. In Turkey they usually arrive on your plate brown, killed by overcooking or ruined by the generous squeeze of lemon juice added too early. Thankfully, Aegeans do know their way around the greens. To pass the wisdom, I am sharing the Aegean skillet greens recipe, well, my take on it.

Aegean Skillet Greens (Ege Ot Kavurması)

Feel free to use any greens you can get hold of or their combination. Just keep in mind that thicker ones such as kale or collard greens will take longer to cook, so add them first.

To serve them traditional Turkish style, you can pour thick yogurt over the cooked greens or serve a bowl of yogurt to the middle so everyone can add as desired. I prefer to keep my dairy and greens separate when possible, so my body can get all the iron packed in the greens.

You might also want to check my tips on buying, washing and storing greens.

Serves 4

Prep time: 10 min
Cook time: 15 min
Total time: 25 min

Ingredients

6 sun-dried tomatoes
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 large leeks (about 100 g)
2 cups shredded chard leaves
1 cup shredded mallow
1 cup chopped poppy greens
1/2 cup chopped fennel fronds (can replace with dill or arapsaçı/ wild fennel)
1/2 tsp fine sea salt, or more to taste
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/4 cup almonds
3 tbsp coarsely chopped Middle Eastern cured green olives, pits removed

Directions

Prepare ingredients: Pour enough boiling water over the sun-dried tomatoes to cover them and place a plate on top to help them rehydrate quicker. Slice the white parts of the leeks into 0.5 cm rounds and cut the green parts into the 0.5 stripes; keep the white and green parts separately. Chop all the greens (discarding most of the stems) into about 1 cm long stripes.

Saute leeks: Warm up the olive oil in a heavy-bottom (e.g. cast iron) skillet. Place the chopped white parts of the leaks in the skillet and season with 1/4 tsp salt. Sweat on the low heat for about 7-10 min, or until just tender. Watch the heat: you should barely hear the sound of simmering oil.

Toast almonds: Meanwhile, warm up a small skillet on the low heat and toast the almonds until hear the cracking sound (about 5-7 min). Let cool slightly and chop coarsely.

Saute greens: Once the leaks are tender, add the greens and green parts of the leeks; season with 1/2 tsp salt. Dial up the heat to the medium and sauté for about 3-5 min, or until the greens start wilting. Drain the sun-dried tomatoes, chop into 0.5 cm stripes and stir to the greens. Season with black pepper and taste for salt; adjust the seasoning if required. Cook for 2 min longer to let the seasoning coat the greens.

Serve: Remove the skillet from the heat, transfer the greens to a serving dish and garnish with the olives and toasted almonds.