It is almost summer here: the spring started in February. For one and a half months our countryside property has been turning greener and greener: nettle and starflower plant boomed, and so did the collard greens and parsley in anne’s garden. After every trip to a market in Istanbul, I return with a gigantic bag of green bunches - dill, parsley, cilantro, rocket salad, beet greens, collard greens, baby spinach, scallions and green fresh garlic.

Just like Scroodge McDuck taking a dip in his gold daily, I could be diving into my greens. Which I practically do because I eat more of them than ever: my every meal has a green in it - raw in a salad or as a dressing, cooked in a soup, sauteed or steamed. And being keen on variety I often can’t eat up all the greens I buy. So I found a solution to utilize them - my greenest spring soup ever.

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There is a thin strip on the timeline between the slowness of winter and the rapidly changing images of spring. It’s called February, the month when a lot of things are shaping up, whether you are suspecting or not.

February was a month of many changes for me, but I preferred to keep quiet about them on this blog. When things are taking shape, I do lots of thinking, reading as well as talking to my husband and (increasingly) parents. Writing does not come easy then: I do my best writing when I am 100% sure. But here I am .. writing. Not that I know where the changes are taking me, but I feel good being on the road.

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Customers of my cooking classes always tell me they do not need dinner after the lunch we make together. “Hm, they are not exaggerating,” I thought to myself as we could barely walk stuffed to the rim with the delicious Moroccan food we cooked at the Zeynep’s house in Fez. Dinner was out of the question if it was possible at all in the Fez medina presenting edible opportunities at every corner.

All right, maybe just a small dinner. A bowl of soup can do. I remembered how after my morning walk I passed by a tiniest shop with the tall dark wooden doors wide open to let in the line of the men waiting for the bowls of piping hot bessara, Moroccan broad bean soup.

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This classic Turkish red lentil soup is a handful of lentils, a carrot, a potato and an onion. You sweat the whole bunch in a pressure-cooker until it mashes, then puree it with an immersion blender and eventually thicken with a roux. How special does it get? Well, this soup has rescued me more than once.

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I don’t know how about you, but I end up with piles of green leaf plants, stems and root vegetable tops in my fridge. After a week of cooking and shopping I would have more celery stalks that I can use for my soups or salads. Any celeriac (celery root) here in Istanbul comes with the stalks packed with the vitality that makes them curl: you would not recognize the guys if you just know the thick celery from a supermarket. Then chard: its juicy leaves make a perfect börek filling, but what about the thick stems? When possible, I slice them paper-thin and add to the filling, but what if you don’t want too much crunch? Also leeks. “They are onions in disguise!”, I announced once to my laughing mother-in-law. “How can you make them a star in your dish?” I asked her referring to the only zeytinyağlı I can’t bring myself to eating - leeks braised in olive oil. And yet, every time at the market they deceive me with their looks, and I buy more than I can use.

With so much leftover leaves, stalks and stems in your fridge, you should get decisive! I resort to throwing only when things turn inedible, and I have made enough stock to take all the room in my freezer. So why not a vegetable potage?

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I have been long wondering how other food bloggers get those wonderfully gloomy photographs that add quite a bit of drama to their foods. A dull November Saturday in Istanbul brought the answer: some of my brothers and sisters-in-food-blogging-arms simply don’t have enough sunshine. In Istanbul it is easy to take sun for granted, and that’s why the murky November days arrive as a surprise to any Istanbul dweller. There were times when I did not take sunshine for granted.

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