Buckwheat Tabbouleh: Passed Summer Passions

The whole summer we have been making this salad for breakfast. Bol (full, a lot of, in Turkish) greens - parsley, dill, basil, mint, rocket salad and purslane which we were occasionally getting from Anamur, the Mediterranean home base of my husbands’ family. Then a bit of plum tomatoes, a hint of cucumber and red bell pepper - to give more color and substance to the otherwise green salad. Anne also puts cheese, usually leftovers and crumbles of the cheese she cuts for breakfast that morning - creamy ezine peyniri, soft string cheese and maybe some lor (cottage cheese). Then comes a splash of extra virgin olive oil, a memory of our culinary trip to Ayvalik. And a handful of olives - black and green - to throw on top of the salad right before serving. Eating bowl of this salad for breakfast has become a good tradition this summer.

In the beginning of summer much of the ingredients were bought. When we were lucky to get some shipped directly from Anamur. Then some started popping up in our garden. Abundant parsley, mint of every kind, basil which - once you pick up most of the leaves - miraculously replenishes in a week. Later huge pink tomatoes and cucumbers. It is a great feeling to go around the garden and pick up the ingredients you are going to use right then. Feeling that you use the land you are living on for good purpose, feeling reestablished connection between the man and nature we all lose once moving to the big cities. But also feeling sad.

Our garden in Sapanca this year has been a lot of excitement, followed by disappointment and then a kind of resolution when you come reconcile with that fact you can’t have it perfect and start celebrating any returns you may get. Very characteristic for my Turkish countryside life. The whole winter we were discussing the garden. “No worries”, ensured me anne backed up by the newly hired gardener. “We will plant everything”. When the spring came and the snow gave up to the shots of grass we planted everything - some chard, parsley and a lot of Jerusalem artichokes which proved a tremendous potential to take over anything else around.

Our gardener got seriously ill and was sent home and the work of another one my mother-in-law hired soon after was hampered by the vast scope, his lame left leg and interventions of my mother-in-law during the rare moments of his enthusiasm. We ended up with broad beans, tomatoes, cucumber, zucchini, more chard and some chaotically placed purslane. Which all were planted so late that the other day our guests wondered if it is typical to have green tomatoes in our latitude at the end of August.

Eventually we had a good crop of sweet cherries and plums (enough to make plenty of plum compote) and now for breakfasts we have own tomatoes and greens. Now and then I pick the fallen apples and pears whose honey-like sweetness makes me endlessly reflect on the superiority of the organically grown fruit. But this was about it.

Anyway, back to the salad. One morning in the attempt to use the abundant stock of lettuce I chopped some into our salad. Yet another green would not hurt, was my logic. Anne disagreed, “This is not my salad. There is no lettuce in my salad”, she was quick with her feedback. “This is how I made it. How my mother made it. How her mother made it”

I think it was that lettuce accident (briefly followed by Anissa Helou sharing a recipe on the David Lebovitz’ blog) which make me realize that this mother-to-daughter heirloom recipe is the Mediterranean Turkish take on Middle Eastern tabbouleh. Not just the finely chopped herbs. But the parsley being the soloist backed up by the other greens. And no lettuce. With crumbled cheese replacing fine bulgur. Like with many things I cook I take them so for granted that I forget to share.

Yet after my Turkish food rant post I can’t go on simply posting, say, a mantı recipe. I got stumbling for a while - if I don’t fancy Turkish food but deeply excited about most of the Turkish ingredients how should I cook? I am often asked which Russian food I miss living away from my home country. I often say I don’t miss any food - I can cook anything anytime I want. But then there are ingredients which I are hard to find outside of Russia and I often ask anyone visiting from there get me some.

Buckwheat is one of them. Buckwheat may be a trendy grain-like ingredient (kind of like quinoa) particular popular with those following gluten-free diet. But in Russia we have been eating buckwheat for ages: it is mostly cooked in sufficient quantity of water and served with melted butter as a breakfast porridge or as a garnish to a main for lunch/ dinner.

My father who has been practicing raw eating for two years has recommended soaking buckwheat in hot water instead of cooking it to keep most of the useful things in. And it works like charm: for every cup of buckwheat you put two cups hot water and leave it covered overnight. Next morning you have your puffed and flaky buckwheat ready to eat as is or to throw into a salad. I have got a few friends coming over recently and a few kilos of buckwheat as a result. So it is time to share my buckwheat tabbouleh recipe.