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Regular-article-logo Saturday, 27 April 2024

Turkish treat

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The Cuisine Of This Fascinating Country Draws From The Best Of The Central Asian, Middle-eastern And Balkan Cauldrons, Says Rahul Verma PHOTOGRAPHS BY SUBHENDU CHAKI Published 26.06.11, 12:00 AM

Turkey has been in the news. I am not just talking about the elections, but about a global survey that put the Turkish among the three least funny people in the world (after, in case you are interested, the Germans and the Russians).

I am not quite sure how true that is. Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk, for one, has a great sense of humour. And if you have eaten Turkish food, you’ll know that it couldn’t have emerged out of the kitchens of a humourless people. The food — like the people — has a buoyant character.

If you look at some of the food that is being served at a special food festival in the Hotel Hindusthan International in Calcutta, you’ll know what I am talking about. You can’t be dull — and I am afraid I equate lack of humour with lack of sharpness — when you have conjured up a dish called balik dolmasi — which is a whole fish, stuffed with nuts. The fish, which is dredged in flour and bread crumbs and then fried, has the delicious flavours of walnuts and pine nuts, enhanced by parsley and dill.

Two chefs from Turkey have been regaling the city’s epicureans with food from their country — a nation that straddles two continents. Chefs Cuneyt Bahadir and Hristo Aleksiev have put together a menu that beautifully showcases the food of the region which was once a part of the Ottoman Empire.

And the Ottoman Empire, as we’ve all read, was a huge empire which included Hungary in the north and Algeria in the south. The empire thrived for ages, leading to rich cross-cultural assimilations. Not surprisingly, the food of Turkey has all kinds of influences. The cuisine has taken the best out of the large cauldrons of Central Asian, Middle-eastern and Balkan cuisines.

That’s precisely why I like Turkish food — it gives me a glimpse of the world. Take something called the Coban salatasi, or a shepherd’s salad. It’s a simple dish, consisting of chunks of cucumber, tomatoes, bell pepper, onion and fresh mint, tossed together in olive oil and lemon juice, with crumbly pieces of feta cheese in it. Now this dish has clearly taken its flavours from the Mediterranean, just as the Tavuk pirzola, or chicken chops, reflect the Western soul of Turkey.

So what I am trying to say is that there’s more to Turkish food than the doner kabab, which is all a rage in many parts of the world, and especially the West. Turkey’s list of dishes is long enough to fill a notebook, with many of them revolving around chickpeas. Chickpeas, historians tell us, showed up as early as in 5400 BC in Turkey. Even our much loved chholey came from that region (and was christened Bengal Gram because the British first encountered it in Bengal). Not surprisingly, some of the main dishes of the Turkish region — from hummus to a simple pilaf that the chefs have on their menu at the HHI (see recipe) — are chickpea based.

What I find really interesting about Turkish food is the use of vegetables and lentils. Most of us tend to associate Turkish cuisine with meat. And while all kinds of meats do make a Turkish meal, the vegetables play no mean role either. Eggplant, for one, is a much loved and used vegetable — and finds its way into anything from dips and salads to snacks and main dishes. Then, of course, stuffed eggplant dolma is presented with something like a lamb stew and with minced meat. And I am told — but this one I haven’t had, so you may eat it at your own peril — they even have an eggplant jam.

Apart from eggplant, vegetable lovers will be happy to know that Turkish food revels in green peppers, onions, garlic and tomatoes. Zucchini is another favourite, and is often served as fritters. Food is mostly seasoned with oregano, thyme, parsley and mint, apart from cumin and black pepper. And then, of course, there’s yoghurt, which goes into a dish to give it a creamy texture and tart flavour.

To get back to the point I was making, when a country’s food is as rich as this, its people can’t be short of humour. I think the surveyors of that study need to go back to the drafting table.

Mantarli tavuk sote — chicken with mushroom (serves 1-2)

Ingredients:

• 1 large chicken breast, cut in medium sized cubes • 1/2 red bel pepper, cut in medium sized chunks • 4 mushrooms, brushed and sliced • 3 green onions, cut into chunks • 1 garlic clove, sliced •1 large tomato, grated • 2 tbs extra virgin olive oil or butter • salt and pepper to taste • 1 tsp thin cream •1 pinch oregano • 1 pinch crushed chilli flakes • 1 tsp chopped parsley

Method:

Heat the olive oil in a pan. Add the chicken and sauté until the chicken is no longer pinkish in colour. Add the oregano and chilli flakes. Sauté the chicken pieces for a few minutes before adding the garlic and onions. Stir until the onions are transparent. Add the mushrooms, bell pepper and tomato. Season with salt and pepper and add some water to the chicken. Cover the pan and cook on low heat for 10-15 minutes. Add the chopped parsley and the cream on top before serving.

Nohutlu Pilav — chickpeas pilaf (serves 2-3)

Ingredients:

• 1 cup boiled and drained chickpeas • 3/4 cup long-grain rice, washed and drained • 1 small onion, finely chopped • 2 tbs butter • 1 1/4 cup chicken, beef stock or vegetable stock • salt and pepper to taste

Method:

Melt the butter and sauté the onion in it for 2-3 minutes in a cooking pot. Add rice and sauté it for another 2-3 minutes, stirring all the while. Pour in the stock. Add the salt and pepper. Turn the heat down to low. When the rice is almost done, add the chickpeas. Cook until the rice absorbs all the water of the stock. Let it stand for five minutes, and then serve with a chicken dish.

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