The other day I had a glimpse of what it feels to be a chef (as opposed to a cook). We had a family of regulars over at our countryside restaurant. They are an Istanbul couple whose weekend house is conveniently located near to our place in Sapanca. And they are parents to a little blue-eyed girl, a dream of any Turkish mother or grandmother (ask my mother-in-law). Placing their order they inquired whether I can make “my pasta”.
Stuffed Green Pepper Boats: Why We Go To Restaurants
