Turkish trip offers insights on old recipes and family ties

Nation's Restaurant News, Sept 11, 2000 by Pamela Parseghian

I had an uncomfortable feeling about a trip I made to Turkey recently because some of my Armenian ancestors were killed there in the 1915 massacre.

Neverthless, I hoped that by going there I would overcome my fear and not feel ill-at-ease through the entire trip. Sure enough, after my first bite of a meaty eggplant stuffed with cinnamon spiced rice I was pleased that I had made the trip and I was feeling a little more comfortable.

That dish served at Hunkar restaurant in Istanbul was very similar to a dish my grandmother used to prepare, but it was even better. The version of the country dish prepared by Hunkar's chef, Ferdum Ugumu, was balanced in flavors, it looked attractive and the texture was suitably firm even though it was stewed.

The more dishes we were served during the week-long trip for American foodservice writers that was hosted by the Hazelnut Council, the more similarities I found between my Armenian grandmother's cooking and Turkish cooking. That makes sense because many Armenians lived in Turkey before the political unrest. Still, it was a surprise to learn that the dishes tasted almost exactly the same and often have the same, or very similar, names since the cultures have completely different languages.

Some of the many dishes that the two cultures have in common are borek, meat- or cheese-filled pastry; simit, sesame yeast roll; tursu, vinegary pickled vegetables; manti, mini baked-meat-and-onion stuffed ravioli; Imam bayildi, stuffed eggplant; bamya, stewed okra; helva, a sweet made with semolina or almonds;. and kadayif, a shredded, wheatlike dessert filled with nuts or sweet cheese and topped with sugar syrup.

Both cultures also share an emphasis on dining and hospitality. Our Turkish hosts opened their homes and businesses to our group. They were warm, charming and fun. My fears melted with every sincere smile.

One who won me over was Gamze Artun, a take-charge young woman who represented the Turkish department of agriculture. She officially traveled with us to share her expertise on hazelnuts and to ensure a flawless visit. Unofficially, she became my interpreter, as she patiently answered many food questions. But she was surprised that I knew some Turkish names of uncommon dishes, especially since my command of the Turkish language was pitiful. After more than a dozen attempts over a couple of days I still could not properly pronounce the one new word I was trying to learn, tesekkurler, which means "thank you."

But the similar dishes of grandmothers were just the first of many similarities Artun and I found during a long bus ride to a hazelnut processing plant, which started with her asking me, "How do you know these names of foods?"

I told her my ethnic background, and the conversation soon turned to family, politics and history. She wanted to know if all American-Armenians hated Turks because' of our tragic history. I admitted that most of those whom I know simply want the Turkish government to admit officially that the massacre had occurred.

Artun explained that many Turkish people now get along well with Armenians still living in Turkey, and she has Armenian-Turkish friends herself even though her uncle was killed by an Armenian terrorist when he was working in the Turkish embassy in London.

But after learning, all of this, we wondered if our great grandmothers could have been friends. Their cooking style was so similar that they certainly might have lived in the same village.

Our family recipes belonging to both cultures are a natural reminder that a close tie once existed and that all humans are related to each other.

In a market on the Asian side of Istanbul Artun fed me such mutually loved foods as midye dolmasi whole mussel shells stuffed with the shellfish, rice, onions, pine nuts, currants and allspice -- a warming dish that takes a great deal of time to prepare. These were the freshest and most flavorful I have had.

Market, vendors also thinly sliced pastirma, a garlic-and-cumin-spiced dried beef that is similar in texture to Swiss bunderfleisch. And we enjoyed pastirma, braised with chicken and mushrooms, in the posh home of hazelnut processor Cuneyd Zapsu, along with homemade yalanci, cold grape leaves stuffed with a rich mixture of onions, rice, parsley and olive oil.

If I had closed my eyes, I would have guessed that the divine grape leaf appetizer, had been made by one of my relatives since it tasted exactly the same as their recipes prepared in the United States. The leaves were so tender that they practically melted in my mouth, a sign of an expert yalanci cook.

Between eating and experiencing the joys of hazelnuts -- more on the nuts in an upcoming issue -- I told my new Turkish friend how it was a Turkish person who actually saved my paternal grandfather's life. His Turkish buddy warned him the military would kill him the next day because of the political turmoil of 1915.

The history and culture came to life thanks to the cuisine of the region. Food is a wonderful common bond and sometimes an ambassador of nations.