“What kind of food will you serve in the restaurant?” people ask us right after they ask about the restaurant name. In fact, many think that the name of Babushka suggests Russian cuisine. Borsch and chicken Kiev come to mind of anybody who thinks that Russian food equals the menu of a Soviet canteen.
What kind of food? This question was on our agenda last summer when I produced half a dozen of dishes daily to test what works and does not. I need to be comfortable with what I am cooking. I always strive for integrity so I want to be able to put any dish that comes from my kitchen in front of my guests looking in their eyes. I have to be able to explain what ingredients I use and where they come from. I also want to be able to say yes when asked whether my ingredients are seasonal, local, healthy and of the highest quality I know of. Because if any of these building blocks is missing, sweating at a small kitchen every day makes little sense to me.
Our menu also needs to work for the palates of our guests. I think the majority of Babushka guests will be Turkish. This is when my husband’s critique comes into play. We often agree on dishes and flavors we alike, and yet we disagree as often. Say, I love beets and think they make a royal treat, while my husband has got little enthusiasm for them. And as it will be Özgür on the floor, I understand that I have to sell a dish to him before he can sell it to a guest. We are working on it: while Özgür is giving suggestions based on his experience of running the family restaurant for three years, I am discovering how far we can go beyond the safe bestsellers.
If I am to define Babushka food, I can say it is based on the local seasonal produce prepared to cater to the local palate. It will be Turkish, meaning the broad definition of Turkish cuisine; you may see me heading towards the Black Sea for corn bread with vegetables and greens while right after I may be in Antakya for hummus or green fritters. But also Babushka food will pay tribute to my Russian origins and the dishes I ate growing up. That’s not all. I will generously borrow from the Eastern Mediterranean cooking of Morocco or Lebanon I love for the exquisite use of spices and exotic cooking condiments.
Turkish, Russian, Eastern Mediterranean and what not sit on the same pantry shelf and can belong to the same menu as in my cooking I don’t think geography. Just how after living in six countries I don’t rely on nationality to build relationships as long as we can find a common ground. Instead, I think overall principles that bring together, rather than divide.
In food, I am striving for tradition (does not mean stiff mindset though), honesty and nourishment. So I am planning to reflect these principles in a short menu that might change now and then. Maybe eventually we will come up with a catchy line to explain our food concept in a definitive way, but right now we call it “Grandma’s table”, which for me is a metaphor of festive seasonal and local food that is good for you and that everybody likes.
Ironically, since we have moved to Alaçatı I have not been cooking “restaurant-style” apart from the couple of times when our family came to visit and the new year dinner. You find me as far from the restaurant cooking as it gets. While spending most of my days at the kitchen, I am busy with brewing tea and baking cookies for the visitors of all sorts, making lunches for our builders, doing dishes, making jam and at times throwing a quick meal for the two of us. And that’s the other side of the cooking in a restaurant, hard to spot from outside. But you will be hearing from me a lot about that kind of food too.
When you cook for somebody else all the time, you resort to the simplest nourishing dishes aligned with what the season has on offer. Quick to put together or keeping well for few days. Right now as I feel all over the place, I long for grounding meals. No wonder borsch, Ukrainian beet soup that combines all the winter goodness into one nourishing bowl, frequents my table around this time of the year. Call me hopelessly Slav, but I know nothing more comforting in winter that a dish of delicious roots with the vibrant warming color.
I make borsch meatless and deviating from the tradition of enjoying it with sour cream I serve it vegan style in my Eastern-European-meets-Eastern-Mediterranean way with black cured olives, fresh parsley, fresh green garlic and green onions as well as lemon juice. As the vegetables in borsch are primarily sweet, you want more complexity to your meal. Hence I welcome the mild heat of fresh garlic and onion, bitter notes of parsley, umami of cured olives and zesty tang of lemon. I love how a generous bowl of borsch with these tiny condiments brings a sense of content to my heart and stomach. And this is what I mean by Babushka food.
Borsch
There are possibly 1001 ways to make borsch, classic Eastern-European beet soup. Mine is meatless and based on the homemade vegetable stock (a game changer, really). It is chunky, stew-like even, which increases cooking time, so if you are in a rush or prefer soup-like borsch, you can finely dice or even grate the vegetables. I like my borsch freshly made and straight from the stove, but yesterday’s borsch, matured and re-warmed is another kind of satisfying treat.
Source: Olga Irez
Prep Time: 15 Min
Cook Time: 1 Hr 20 Min
Total Time: 1 Hr 35 Min
Serves: 4
Ingredients
- 1.5 tbsp olive oil
- 1/2 large onion (about 100 g) finely diced
- 2 large garlic cloves crashed
- 2 medium beets (about 350 g) washed and peeled
- 1 medium carrot (about 70 g) washed and peeled
- 2 cups finely shredded cabbage (about 140 g)
- 1 medium potato (about 100 g) washed and peeled
- 4 cups vegetable stock or more if desired
- 1 tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice and more for serving
- 1 bay leaf
- 1 tsp fine sea salt or more to taste
- 1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
- parsley finely chopped, for serving
- fresh green garlic thinly sliced, for serving
- green onions thinly sliced, for serving
- pitted cured black olives for serving
Directions
- Cut the beets into 0.5 cm (1/5 inch) slices crosswise, arrange in a few stacks and cut each stack into 0.5 cm (1/5 inch) sticks crosswise again. Do the same with potato. Slice the carrots lengthwise into 0.5 cm (1/5 inch) slices and then cut them lengthwise into 0.5 cm (1/5 inch) sticks and chop the sticks once or twice to match the length of the cut beet and potato.
- Warm up the oil in a soup pot and cook the onions with a pinch of sea salt on the medium heat for about 5 min, until soft and translucent. Toss in the beets plus the bay leaf and cover. The hardest vegetable in this soup, beets will need at least 15 min on their own. Now and then remove the lid, give them a stir and dial down the heat if needed to prevent the pot from scorching.
- As the beet sticks start bending a bit, add the carrots and left them soften too (about 10 min). Now, it is the cabbage’s turn: toss along with the garlic and stir. As the garlic releases its aromatic smell, you are ready to add the stock, lemon juice, sea salt and black pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to the low and let your borsch gently bubble under the lid. In about 20 min add the potatoes and continue cooking until all the vegetables are tender (30 min more).
- Open the lid, cool down the borsch and refrigerate for a few hours or best overnight. Reheat and enjoy next day at its fullest with fresh herbs (e.g. parsley, fresh green garlic or green onions), black olives and lemon. If you want to go Russian, add a dollop of sour cream or labne.
I adore borsch! It would be so special to eat yours at your new restaurant. I make a double batch once a year. I know exactly what you mean about how delicious and comforting it is. It’s comforting even to know there are leftovers of it waiting for me in the fridge the next day! I do enjoy sour cream on top and put a tablespoon of honey or two in the soup. Borsch should be more globally famous than it is - it’s that good.