When I am not cooking, I am talking about food. Once we have served all the mains I take off the apron and step in the garden to greet our guests. At first I felt awkward about approaching every table and asking people about their dining experience. I thought restaurant is different from the food tours or cooking classes I ran in Istanbul. The latter proved personal; people wanted to learn more about the city and its food, but also many wanted to meet me and hear my story. Turns out our restaurant is no different. As one guest put it, “You do feel like a house guest here. The hosts receive you at the backyard, sit down to chat with you and as you leave they turn off the lights and go to bed”. True story, given we live in the restaurant. So we have already made Babushka personal and it is ridiculous to hide.
My husband, a natural front of the house, encouraged me, “You will understand right away who wants to have a chat with you and where you would need to leave people to themselves”. He turned right. At times I hear only Elinize sağlık, a common Turkish way to compliment a cook, paired with assurance that everything was delicious. At times our guests inquire about certain dishes, their ingredients or cooking technique. Some want to know how I learned to cook Turkish as they motion to the meze spread with no single traditional Turkish appetizer at sight. I take that as a compliment. I tell about my mother-in-law, my culinary teacher thinking to myself that I have achieved my goal of presenting local seasonal ingredients in a way that would suit Turkish palate but still make you put aside the fork and give a thought to what you have just eaten.
Many diners compare our food with that of other restaurants in town or in Istanbul, their aunt’s cooking and what not. I feel flattered of course when comparison is in our favor. Damn it, I am flattered we get on the comparison map altogether. To me it is all pretty amazing. I cook what I normally would for myself and my husband and that gets me flattering feedback from the guests of various ages, nationalities and backgrounds.
Sometimes I talk, sometimes I listen. I explain why our menu includes the common folk sardines and mid-size Scorpio fish, too expensive for soup and too small for any fish restaurant that would be after a decent size fillet. I tell that the Aegean is seriously over-fished; wild sea bass has become a city tale and wild sea bream is beyond reach for the place serving “grandma food”. I explain why we follow the season and don’t have artichokes on the menu any more or why it is too early for the red peppers.
And I listen .. how a guest shares their childhood memories about grandma food and garden evoked by their experience at Babushka. A diner speculates about respect to the ingredients and land that they noticed in our food. Another person talks about the well-balanced tastes. Someone asks me why on earth I combined samphire with sesame seeds. Many people report that our fried Russian dumplings are sensational.
Stories, stories, every guests is a treasured story. Two young ladies who rang the bell and requested breakfast the moment my husband went out and I cut my finger instructing the cooking class of six. The ladies came back next day and ate Zeliş liver cooked my mother-in-law’s style. Group of a few families from Ankara that sat at a long table. They wanted me to pass their best regards to my mother-in-law “from the Ankara folks” as they heard the story of my culinary beginnings in Turkey. My social media pal from Singapore that brought her family and friends to Turkey, knocked our door late morning to have breakfast and came back for early dinner a few hours later.
While all the stories are dear a few do stand out. A few weeks ago I was finishing prep when our waiter called me and motioned to the English couple examining our menu outside. I greeted them, asked if they needed any help and we had a little chat. They asked if I cooked that night and I confirmed. “We love girl chefs,” the woman exclaimed. “We will return for dinner,” her husband promised. And return they did with their friends. After dinner the woman hugged me, kissed on the cheeks, made me sign the menu and after a brief conversation confessed to have sold her own restaurant where she used to cook. That same night we had another diner who ordered scorpio fish I snatched from the fish auction that day, stuffed with greens and baked. The fish plate came back clean with only spine and head left. I went to greet the grateful fish eater who turned out to be a Belgian woman chef living in Alaçatı. Can you imagine more support and encouragement than that on a given night?
I remember my high school Russian literature teacher, old lady with refined speech and manners who addressed every single student as “You” and discussed the Tolstoy charters with the same warmth and intimacy you’d talk about your best friends. She taught at university and as a huge favor to our program curator she came twice a week to give classes to us. She was possibly the most encouraging teacher I have ever met and yet most demanding. I loved Russian literature before, but she inspired digging deeper, working harder and never feel content with yourself. I remember how I read Dostoyevsky’s “Crime and Punishment” three times, made tons of notes and studied numerous critics reflecting on the novel. When our teacher announced the essay topics, I was 100% confident as I had a brilliant command of the material. Probably my essay communicated just that, tons of arrogance, because the teacher told me a few days later, “Olga, the most dangerous thing is to feel content with yourself. This is where you stop developing”.
So I keep cooking. Recent addition to our meze set is the beautiful round yellow zucchini. Bright colored skins, sweet taste and the round shape make them a chef’s dream. You would not be surprised if I tell you that local cooks often stuff the cavities of these beauties with meat and grains or only grains. I did not want yet another dolma, but was keen on keeping the zucchini’s shape apparent. So I halved the vegetables, spooned out the seeds, marinaded with herbs, spices and olive oil and then roasted them in the oven. We are serving them with a generous drizzle of my dill pesto.
I am eating at least one of those zucchini a day and as if it was not enough, I am often throwing one or two roasted zucchini halves in my morning eggs. Laced with the dill pesto swirls this frittata turns any breakfast into a feast that I would love tho share with you, so here is the recipe.
Babushka Menu (until June, 20)
Meze set
Zaaluk (Moroccan Eggplant Dip)
Samphire and Purslane Salad
Herbed Yogurt Dip
Baby Potatoes and Radishes in Tahini Sauce
Roasted Round Zucchini with Dill and Almond Pesto
Hot Starters
Hummus with Braised Beef
Russian Potato FrittersStuffed Zucchini Flowers
Mains
Pelmeni (Russian Dumplings)
Pan Fried Drunk Sardines
Spicy Liver Poached in Butter
Oven Roasted Scorpio Fish (With Greens and Baby Potatoes)
Ottoman Lamb Stew
Desserts
Nevzine (Wallnut and Tahini Dessert from Cappadocia)
Summer Fruit Platter
Round Yellow Zucchini + Dill Pesto Eggs
I often have roasted zucchini on hand (advantage of owning a restaurant and having an access to the fridge full of prepped ingredients), so I’d just chop it in wedges and throw on the pan right before the eggs. However, for the sake of offering you a “complete solution” I choose to pan-roast the zucchini in this recipe. You can use regular round zucchini too, even though I prefer its slightly sweeter and less bitter yellow brother.
Choose the best eggs possible. We buy ours at the Saturday farmers market from a smiling short and sturdy woman who ties her head scarf just like my grandma did when she headed out to sell her flowers and surplus of cucumbers at the local market. The chicken eggs of my vendor vary in size, but rarely can be called large, have a beautiful bright yellow yolk and taste delicious.
Source: Olga Irez
Prep Time: 5 Min
Cook Time: 15 Min
Total Time: 20 Min
Serves: 4
Ingredients
- 2 round yellow zucchini
- 1/4 cup finely chopped spring onions both white and green parts
- 2 tbsp dill pesto
- 6 free-range eggs
- 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- 1/4 tsp Urfa pepper / isot
- fine sea salt to taste
Directions
- Cut the round zucchini in 1.5 cm (1/3 inch) thick wedges; you would not need to trim off the perfectly edible stems if they are bright green meaning the zucchini are freshly harvested.
- Warm up the olive oil in a large skillet on medium heat. Arrange the zucchini wedges in the pan in one layer, no overlaps. Season with sea salt. Fry them for 5-7 min and don’t be tempted to flip the zucchini wedges too soon. Let them develop golden color on the bottom and only then flip on the uncooked side. Sprinkle with salt, chopped spring onions and Urfa pepper. Let cook for 2-3 min longer.
- Then crack the eggs on top of the zucchini wedges, sprinkle more salt and stir to create swirls. As the egg white starts turns opaque at a few spots, drop two tablespoons of the dill pesto in the pan and stir if you wish. Gently poke the tip of spatula in the uncooked eggs and push slightly to let the runny eggs slide down to the bottom. Make sure to leave the eggs slightly undercooked as they continue firming up even after you turn off the heat. Serve at once.
