Turkish Cuisine, 1911
There are few books about Turkey that do not contain an account of a Turkish dinner. But the Gargantuan feasts usually described are what the French term dîners de circonstance,…
Location: Turkey
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From Turkey and the Turks by Z. Duckett Ferriman, 1911.
There are few books about Turkey that do not contain an account of a Turkish dinner. But the Gargantuan feasts usually described are what the French term dîners de circonstance, and are not typical of the ordinary daily dietary. Moreover, they are almost invariably of the old-fashioned sort, and fashions change. Turks of the upper and middle class do not, as a rule, nowadays, eat with their fingers, and they sit on chairs round a table.
The repast is French rather than English in character, and finger-glasses replace the basin and ewer of the old school. The alternation of sweets and savouries is relegated to the same category of the past. Pilaf, however, is never lacking, and among the conservative, fish may make its appearance towards the end of the meal. Bread is consumed in larger quantities than with us, and it is of better quality.
Among the poor it is really the staff of life. They literally “eat their tables," like the Trojan refugees, for they have no other than the flat, flexible, unleavened cakes in which they roll up the morsels which form the rest of the repast. The open air is generally preferred as a dining-room in fine weather by the humble folk, and by the well-to-do the garden is often resorted to. There is a touch of nomadism in the Turkish mode of eating, as in some other things.
Breakfast as a meal is unknown. A cup of black coffee suffices, and the children supplement it with fruit in season, or with simit, the wholesome ring-shaped biscuits sprinkled with sesame seed, which are cried along the streets by itinerant vendors. An account of the Turkish cuisine would fill a volume. It differs with the locality.
The abundance and variety of the fish consumed by the inhabitants of the Bosphorus is of course unknown to those who dwell in the interior. But rice in the form of pilaf is universal. It is cooked as in India, each grain being dry and separate, and is a light and wholesome dish, quite unlike the heavy squab Italian risotto. It has various garnishings, chick-peas, minced liver, small birds, mussels, and in spring yaghoort. This form of curded milk has now been introduced to England, and needs no description. It is eaten by all nation- alities in the near East, and is not only delicious, but has valuable dietetic properties.
Milk preparations have a large place in the Turkish dietary. Muhalibi is a sweet, and so is taouk-geuksu, which is made of the breasts of chickens pounded in a mortar with milk, sugar, and spices, and is highly nutritious. The Turks have always been famous for their sweets and pastry, of which the name is legion. Walnuts gathered young and prepared as a sweet conserve rival in toothsomeness the marrons glacés of France.
A popular sweet is made of walnuts strung on a rush and coated with a preparation of grape-juice. The dainty looks like a section of a knobby blackthorn, and is much relished by the children, who in the matter of such cates are exceedingly well of. The Turks never pickle walnuts, though they have a great variety of home-made pickles. Good housewives do wonderful things in preserves, notably with quinces and peaches, of which there is abundance. Pekmez or grape-treacle is a great stand-by, and goes to the making of many dishes. Its preparation is an annual duty in all households.
Dolmas or stuffed viands are much in vogue and are rarely absent at a meal. Young vegetable-marrows stuffed with rice are popular, but the dolma par excellence is made of rice and minced meat rolled in young vine-leaves.
Kebab, which means roast, is of many kinds, though none is better than the old-fashioned method of spitting the pieces of meat on the skewer. Swordfish done in this way with bay-leaves between the morsels of fish is excellent. Stuffed mackerel is prepared in rather a clever way by removing the spine without breaking the skin of the fish. The stuffing is made of rice, currants, pine-nuts, and onions, a combination strange to our palate, but the plat is really nice.
Favourite vegetables are the patlijan, the aubergine of the French, and bamia, the hibiscus esculentus, a kind of mallow, excellent stewed with unripe grapes.
Caviare is much more general than with us. The red variety is largely consumed by the poor. There is a constant succession of hors doeuvre throughout a repast. Young cucumbers are eaten in large quantities, not in salad and not sliced, but divided longitudinally into four sections. Lettuce and tomatoes are used in salad, as with us.
Two articles of food are peculiar to Turkey and England—at least, I have seen them nowhere else. One is the crumpet, though it is not treated in the same way, being eaten with sweets, and the other is ashoura, which is none other than “frumenty," young wheat boiled with the addition of raisins and currants. This delight of the children of English farmsteads at harvest time is relished equally by Turkish youngsters. Ashoura adds pistachios and pine-nuts to the raisins, but it is “frumenty" none the less.
Honey is eaten generally, both in its pure form and made into halva and other sweets. The Turkish cheesecake is a savoury, not a sweet, and is really made with cheese. This explains the forgotten pinch of pepper which had such dire results in the Arabian Nights,
In the provinces one may still dine where the tablecloth is placed under the table, not on it. This is to save the carpet, for as knives, forks, and plates are not used, bones go on the floor. A four-legged stool a foot high is placed on the cloth, and on the stool is the sofra, the round tray on which the dish is placed. The guests squat round on cushions, each eating out of the one dish.
It is well to eat sparingly, for dish after dish comes on in honour of the guest, who is expected to partake of all. If he does not, his hosts send it away untasted, out of politeness. The European, however, is not likely to meet with this sort of entertainment. Knives and forks have long been habitually used among the well-to-do, and in Constantinople are becoming general.
Taking the Turks in the mass and in the provinces, they are still unknown, and the common dish is universal, with a wooden spoon for soup. I have heard Arabs defend the use of fingers, on the ground that it was more cleanly and more healthy to make use of nature’s aids than to introduce a foreign substance, even though it were a precious metal, into the mouth. I have never heard this argument employed by the Turks, however, and knife and fork are being largely restored to the city where they were used when we in England ate with our fingers.
Whether through merchant or crusader, the fork of the Greeks, together with other refinements of life, was introduced to the West through Venice, from Constantinople. One decided improvement in the art of the table the author owes to the Bosphorus. It was there that a worthy Turk taught him to eat oysters from the hollow shell. The oyster, by the way, is rarely absent from Constantinopolitan tables in the season. Happily they may still be bought for a shilling a hundred, though they were formerly cheaper.
Ferriman, Z. Duckett. Turkey and the Turks. James Pott & Co., 1911.
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