Friday kicked off pretty cool: my assistant for the day, a young soft-spoken woman referred by our neighbor, arrived early. We were to prepare Friday dinner and Saturday lunch at once. Some 40 guests in total according to the reservations. The night before I examined my kitchen utensils and not without satisfaction concluded that I own sufficient number of XX-Large cooking pots, baking trays, mixing bowls and storage containers. Thanks anne for sending a bunch and insisting that I buy more. I also stocked the produce. For two meals I bought 5-6 times the amount I would usually purchase for the whole week. My mom sighed when I told her about the festival reservations in a skype chat, “I wished things could build up gradually, not like a storm“.
Annual festival of wild greens in Alaçatı attracts visitors from far and beyond. Babushka guests that weekend included a bunch of our friends from Istanbul, loyal Instagram followers from various places familiar with Babushka from its early steps and a rather large production crew from Dubai shooting a culinary travel show. The only way I could cope with the excitement of hosting this crowd was to make a long to-do list and stick to it meticulously.
The kitchen work started with washing wild greens and herbs, peeling, chopping, baking and cooking. I practically got myself into trance which I had to brush off as the door bell rang and the first guests, our friends from Istanbul, showed up at the door. “Olga!” they called me, and I woke up to the realization that the dinner service would start only in a few hours.
At the same time Özgür was racing with time in the garden. The weather forecast promised pouring rain by the evening so Özgür was finishing the bar, a major DIY project my husband has undertaken to date, while orchestrating the team of electricians/magicians to finalize their work and then help with installing a hood over the bar and a canvas roof in the garden.
The canvas roof happened thanks to the resourceful anne who handed us a 27 meter long roll of excellent creme-color canvas extracted from her extensive storage when we last visited Sapanca. The local tailor fashioned it into a roof that Özgür and the team fixed on the trees and metal posts in the garden providing a temporary shelter from the rain. Maybe not so robust given the severe Aegean winds, but good enough for one busy weekend. With the bar and the roof at place our garden started looking serious. Almost like a restaurant.
The original plan was to finish the garden and kitchen preparations and drive to the nearby Urla for the remaining shopping. In the early afternoon I understood it was not going to happen. We marched through the stalls set by the local women featuring the food that celebrated wild greens. We were on our way to the bank as our pre-festival shopping left us with zero cash and many needs still to be financed. I was glancing at the rows of pastry, stuffed wine leaves, stews and such hoping to spot some novel dishes as we were debating with my husband whether we have extra 10 min to drive to Çeşme and figure out the remaining shopping there. We decided we had only 5 minutes to drive to a closer destination and get everything we needed there. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Back to the kitchen I was thinking about anne, my wonderful mother-in-law who taught me everything I know about organizing kitchen work. She wanted to be with me that first weekend at Babushka, but she cooked elsewhere for another cause that week: Özgür’s babushka, Mahide grandma, passed away and the parents instead of heading to the Aegean drove to the Mediterranean to organize the funerals. Still, anne was with me guiding the movements of my hands and direction of my thoughts. By 5 pm I was ready to serve our first guest.
In the middle of the dinner service after I plated all the meze I came out to the garden and stood still. Oh, my! Babushka was for real! The patio heater and fleece throw overs we bought last minute made the wet and chilly night more pleasant. Soft music poured from the speakers that our neighbors running the bar next door dropped at ours one day without asking for anything in return. Strings of lights crisscrossing the garden looked worth the hours we spent at the electric shop figuring out the right supplies. The tables were filled with guests eating the food that I was laboring over the whole day and my husband served with care. Wow, we are running a restaurant here, no doubt about it.
Back to the kitchen and main course service, I again slid into my trance state and lost the track of time. I regained consciousness when the production crew of about 15 people arrived at the restaurant for the late night shooting. Our dinner guests started leaving, and my kitchen still not fully relieved from the dishwashing accumulated throughout the dinner preparation got filled with the glasses, plates and cutlery of all sorts.
The production crew was working on the set in the garden when the weather forecast for the day realized: it started pouring. A few friends who dined at ours that night ran inside, wet and carrying cushions, tablecloths, bottles of water, baskets of bread and everything else they could rescue.
The youngest couple, Bura and Eylül inquired about my dishwashing plans. I told them the helper was gone and a few days before the festival we discovered that our industrial washing machine needed a critical spare part to be replaced, but we could not source that part on time. Bura and Eylül exchanged looks, took off their jackets and asked for rubber gloves and washing detergent. Along with Zeynep who was helping Özgür with service, we became four at my tiny kitchen shuffling the dishes from the dirty piles to the soapy bath, from the shower of running water to the rack, from the soft towels back to the shelves.
Meanwhile the sounds of rain became more definite. Soon all the crew deserted the set and occupied the hall of our house that I can bet has never in its history hosted the crowd as big and international. More and more people made it to my kitchen. I apologized for the mess that no one seemed to notice. The chat revolved around grandma food, love for cooking and rustic charm of our old house and back garden. I could not believe how generous everyone was with their compliments given the humble state of Babushka that the rain made even more humble. We brewed tea for everybody to make the wait more bearable.
As the rain stopped a bit, we could start shooting in the garden. It was the most relaxing part of the night for us tasting Babushka meze while chatting with the show presenters, three stunning Middle Eastern women, about our story and food. We were under the canvas roof while the crew was under the rain. I was told not to look in the cameras, but with the side vision I could not stop watching the cameramen, sound and lighting people getting soaked as the last spring rain was revealing all its zeal.
Finally we fled indoors to continue the filming there. Five of us around the table and a dozen people glued to the wall of the hallway or watching from the windows of the kitchen. The more it rained the louder came the sound of electronic music from the nearby bar: our neighbors were kicking off the wild greens festival with a wild party to match. And yet the crew was the most professional I have ever seen: not complaining at the conditions even once, constantly apologizing for the inconvenience and thanking us for the opportunity to shoot. You need a good production company? I say Filmmaster. Past the midnight they bid farewells to return tomorrow morning for the shooting at the farmers’ market.
What did we did after the closed the garden gate? We hugged and danced. We opened the “restaurant-warming” presents from our friends who - without asking for any hints - got us exactly the things we thought about for a long time. We cleaned up and discussed the plans for tomorrow. We felt dead tired and damn happy. Grateful for the many gifts the day had brought.
The rain persisted, and our roof started leaking at all the spots that never leaked before. We placed a bowl to catch the drops falling right on my pillow, and my husband offered he could sleep on the couch. “No,” I protested. “In good times and in bad..” We fell asleep head-to-toe to the sounds of electronic music from the party next door.
Next morning I took the shooting crew for the farmers’ market stroll. Everywhere was festive: piles of greens, people with cameras and microphones shooting for assorted Turkish channels, visitors from Istanbul not knowing the difference between lavender and thyme but willing to buy all that Aegean extravaganza anyways. Do I need to say it started pouring soon? Upon our return to Babushka we served lunch to the crew in the garden. Within less than half an hour I plated 7 starters, main course and dessert for the group of 25 and my husband with his assistant served and cleared the tables. I guess the weather did not suggest lingering. Our ever-enduring favorite production team left with words of gratitude that I only could reverse. Do I need to say that the sky cleared in an hour?
After serving another group, a walk-in, in the afternoon I ran out of food. I made three trips to the farmer’s market to buy enough supplies for dinner that night. I wished I could enjoy the festive spirit of the market and the sunny afternoon longer, but Özgür called to say that our guests requested the main of sea bass. I told him to switch on the oven and rushed back. Returning from my fourth and final trip to the farmers’ market that day, I got stuck behind the truck loaded with fresh wild flowers and greens, a small orchestra and a bunch of local women dancing. With loads of fresh spring produce in both hands, I dragged behind the truck that could hardly pass through a narrow cobblestone street of our village. Shop keepers, waiters of the nearby cafés and numerous visitors lined up on the both sides of the street cheered the procession with their smartphones stack out to record the carnival memories and a random tired woman behind the track.
As I arrived to the door of our garden, Özgür and the sea bass customer were sharing a smoke. I announced that I picked 2 kilos of excellent local sardines, and Özgür explained that I pan fry them after marinading in the “drunk” Seville orange. The man asked if we had started cooking the sea bass and upon hearing our no he requested the sardines. See, it does not take a tattoo-covered chef with a beard and a hip restaurant design to serve a delicious plate of sardines caught that morning, cleaned and cooked for you on request. Those lucky Babushka guests!
The dinner was a little quieter than on Friday. We finally had time to sit down at the long table of our friends by the end of the night to talk about food, Babushka and share our happiness. I was relaxing in the bubble bath of trust, support and assurance that we were in the safe place and on the right path.
There were more gifts to come on Sunday. Excellent sunny day, breakfast reservations and a visit of our friends from Bozcaada - Oya, my favorite hotel owner and culinary fairy, with her daughter Nisan and Ali popularizing artisanal sourdough bread that he bakes on the island and ships all over the country. Oya hugged me, “When I am looking at you, I see myself. Now you understand what you have gotten into? You are tired, aren’t you? Do you need help? Let me help you”.
She inspected my kitchen and offered a few practical pieces of advice on how I can use the garden to expand my kitchen space .. and keep the sanity during the high season. “Otherwise one day you’ll leave the restaurant kitchen amidst the dinner service, still in the apron, and wander down that street crying and wishing there were no restaurant and no people coming to eat your food. I know, I have been there,” she laughed. “But thanks Lord, we ate so well here”.
Babushka Menu
March, 27-29 2015
Meze (served as a set)
- Broad bean dip / Fava OR Greek-style artichokes / Yunan usulü zeytinyağlı enginar
- Roasted pumpkin and onions with cinnamon tahini sauce / Tykva
- Georgian spinach meatballs / Pkhali
- Aegean skillet wild greens / Karışık ot kavurması
- Yogurt and herbs dip / Katı cacık OR Beet and yogurt dip / Pancar ezmesi
- Fresh fava beans braised in olive oil / Zeytinyağlı taze bakla
- Salad of baby collard greens, root vegetables and cured olives / Çibes salatası
Main courses
- Pan-fried sardines marinated in “drunk” Seville orange
- Wild sea bass roasted with fragrant herbs
- Baby meatballs served on the bed of sauteed mallow
- Ottoman lamb stew with dried fruits
Dessert
Congratulations! I would agree with your mother, but you weathered the storms(!) and you are now an official Restauranteur. The satisfaction must almost be overwhelming. So I send a toast to all the happiness and fulfillment that Babushka will bring you and a prayer that all your dreams come true. Jim and I look forward to eating at Babushka on our next trip to Turkey!