Iyi Bayramlar!

When we lived in Karachi we tried our best not to be in town for bakra Eid, and I have to say I haven't really missed Eid in Karachi much. On Eid day (or kurban bayram here) the boys all went off to the Yeni Camii in Eminonu for namaz (interestingly the so-called new mosque in Istanbul dates from the early 1600s). R remarked on how wonderful it was to say the eid prayers in a beautiful mosque, its hugh vaulted ceilings giving the recitations a new musicality. Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief we now have other alternatives than the rabid khutba at Sultan masjid or the tense security situation at the Imambargah. Qais was relieved they didn't have to stay for the khutba since it was in Turkish!

We are lucky enough to get 6 days off for the bayram holidays and decided to make the most of it, exploring our wonderful new home. So today we packed a picnic and set off to the Asian side, to the Black Sea towns of Sile and Agva.

The promenade at Sile

 Sile, (pronounced Sheelay) is a lovely little beach town, with a few seaside restaurants and a pier leading up to a little lighthouse. It is pretty deserted today, even though it is a sunny, warm day apparently it is not the season for swimming in the Black Sea!

We leave Sile to drive for another hour or so through back country lanes, winding through forests of pine and cinar trees. The air is fresh and perfumed with pines, ferns and moss. For the first time I experience dappled sunlight. Quite magical. Unfortunately, the twisty lanes don't do so much for I and her car-sickness and the drive to Agva (pronounced Aava) seems longer than it is. And then suddenly the forest abruptly ends in the Black Sea.

An inlet where locals try their hand at fishing

Palamut (bonito) is in season and it doesn't get fresher than this!

 After a lovely afternoon of walking along the water and stopping for ice creams we decide to drive back, but H insists on a trek through the forest on our way home and it is a lovely walk, cut short only by the fading light.

 I pick some wild blue crocuses and some other purple-y weeds with a couple of oak leaf twigs to take home, a little reminder of our stroll through the woods. On the way home we seem to drive into the setting sun- a magnificent artwork of lavender, powder blue, yellow, orange and the deepest ruby. And from the back I says "you know clouds really do make the most beautiful shapes." And it feels so right to be here, now.

Brewing a cup of Turkish tea

Everyone knows about Turkish coffee, but here it's really all about cay. Everywhere you go in Istanbul you see people sitting around sipping tea. I too seem to have acquired a taste for Turkish tea and decided to make some at home. Brewing Turkish cay is not to be taken lightly- in fact it took me the better part of the day to get one just right.

First you have to start with where you're planning on drinking it. Ideally it should be an outdoor spot, and preferably one with a view. We are lucky enough to have just such a spot with a view of Asia (unfortunately for R, we just miss out on a sighting of the Bosphorus), and it just so happened that today was the day that the store finally decided to deliver our newly-bought garden table and chairs. So it seemed like a good day to try my hand at tea.

Before we even start talking which tea leaves we have to ponder teapots. Authentic Turkish cay must be brewed in a double teapot. The system is somewhat akin to the Russian samovar- you basically brew tea in the little pot on top and then dilute it to your liking with the water boiling below. The steam from the lower pot helps brew the tea. It is symptomatic of Istanbul that it is easier to find an electric double cay teapot or caydanlik than the old-fashioned kind, but at least I have the necessary tools.

Caydanlik

Now for the tea. When we were moving, many well-wishing Pakistani expats warned us to bring our own tea from home since according to them the local brew was undrinkable. Maybe it is because R and I don't drink much tea back home that we haven't really missed our desi karak chai, but to make authentic Turkish cay you must get Turkish tea leaves, and siyah cay- none of the green tea variety. You have to add one teaspoon of tea leaves for every cup you are planning on making and wash the leaves thoroughly in a strainer to get rid of any powder. Then you add the tea leaves to the top pot and fill the lower pot with water. Once the lower pot has boiled, you pour water from it onto the tea leaves and put both pots together again, letting the tea leaves steep in the pot for a good 15 minutes. Well prepared Turkish tea should not have a horrible astringent after-taste because the tea leaves are never allowed to overcook, they are merely gently heated via steaming.

While waiting for the tea to brew you can start readying your cups. Turkish tea cups are tulip-shaped glasses, and are considered the best shape for tea. The depth and narrow mouth keep the tea hot for as long as possible and the flared out lip allow you to hold the glass without burning your fingertips. Ideally the glasses should be Pasabahce , accompanied by their little plates and tiny spoons. Turkish cay should be served with sugar cubes rather than granules, simply for the aesthetic pleasure of watching the cube melt into the garnet liquid.

If you still have a few minutes to wait spend them reading the English version of instructions that came with the caydanlik. After lines and lines of almost incomprehensible commands we get to the crux of the matter: "Tea steeping is a process that everyone knows..." hmm.

Once you have steeped your tea to your taste, you pour it into the glass, either 1/3 or 2/3 of the way up- depending on how strong you want your tea and then fill up the glass with the steaming water from the pot below. And voila here's your cup of perfect Turkish cay with view to match...just don't plan to do it in a hurry!

Fig jam

We have rented a car- a little Hyundai Accent. It is a big change from my wonderful Toyota RAV 4 (who I miss soooo much), but it gets the job done. I was a little nervous to drive in Turkey, what with the left-hand drive, really steep gradients, not knowing the ways and not speaking the language, but having Abbu over was a big help. He'd sit next to me and navigate and not freak out even when I drove over curbs as I clung dangerously close to the right side of the road.

I am getting more and more comfortable driving around and exploring my immediate neighborhood and today after dropping R to the metro stop managed to find the local farmer's market. It certainly isn't as glamourous as it sounds- more sabzi mandi than California if you know what I mean- but oh the produce...

I can say my numbers in Turkish up to 20, which is only mildly helpful and means that I can only purchase things in kilos as I still can say half! So I could buy 5 apples but had to buy a kilo of figs. I absolutely adore fresh figs and figs, goat cheese, honey and black pepper is a combination made in heaven. But these figs are gorgeously ripe- already bursting at the seams and even I can't down a kilo of figs before they start to rot. So off to the local pazar I went for some tarcin and seker to make some jam. (Am really good at buying things that sound the same as in Urdu: incir for figs, tarcin for cinnamon, seker for sugar) and even found some jam jars and lids on sale- so clearly making jam is the thing to do come the end of summer.

My earliest memories of homemade jam date back to childhood summers in Quetta. During the summer we would always go spend a couple of days at the ancestral family home in Pishin with Aunty Jennifer. The house had several old apricot trees and the apricots were the more golden, fragrant variety- perfect for jam. Amma would always bring back some and we would help her split them into halves for jam. She would also crack a few kernels to mix in with the jam, which made it seem so luxurious and unlike any shop-bought stuff. After we moved to France Amma came to visit one summer and we went strawberry picking, bringing back 5 kilos of the stuff- which she quickly converted into a rather runny but delicious jam.

Getting ready

So here I am, making fig jam in my very basic kitchen- I have no recipe and no way to weigh the sugar- so am just going by instinct. I have quartered the figs, grated in some lemon zest, squeezed in the lemon and thrown in a couple of cinnamon sticks with around a cupful of sugar. It is all bubbling away, perfuming the kitchen quite nicely. The color has changed from a pretty blush pink to a decadent plummy wine, and I think it has gelled quite nicely.

A little hot dollop on a crust of organic bread is heavenly. 

I quickly pour it into my two waiting jars, when I have a eureka moment and I reach into the fridge for some yogurt purchased just this morning. How unctuous is this: (and don't you love the glass pot it is sold in? I just can't get over the fact that the figs came in an old-fashioned paper bag, the milk comes in bottles and the yogurt is glass pots).

A few tablespoons of rich, thick yogurt topped with a scoop of fresh fig jam....can't get more moreish than this :) Here's to an afternoon well spent!