My fellow Americans. Friends. Compatriots. I posit to you that we, as a nation, have overlooked (and undercooked!) the humble aubergine. (Or eggplant, as we call it, but I prefer "aubergine," as that term is cognate to the word for said vegetable in pretty much every single language!)
I myself hated it as a youth. Then I traveled to Russia at 20 and was convinced to try it at a Georgian restaurant. I was told they cooked it much better than we did, and man did those eggplant rolls look amazing. (They so are, if you're wondering.) Imagine my surprise when instead of a densely spongy, slightly bitter mouthful I found it to be a rich and melt-in-your mouth... I don't know... amazingness. Nothing that tasty should be called a vegetable. I mean, I guess some people might find the way it looks unappealing, as bits are somewhat stringy and if you cut it just right the seeds look like they are eggs in a bizarre alien ovary (which I guess they sort of are), but the taste is just amazing and it always seems to me to taste much fattier than the amount of oil it's cooked in could account for (which, to an American, is a good thing :p).
Anyway, I am very happy that the Turks seem to share my batshit craziness for all things aubergine. I just had a very simple, cheap, but incredibly tasty meal of beef stewed with aubergine and rice at Meydan Döner near the metro. Also popular here is an aubergine kebab, which is basically aubergine stuffed with spiced ground meat and grilled. Sounds tasty.
So. I shall undertake a mission to proselytize the aubergine message, to convert others to adopt our favorite vegetable, to grow it in abundance (if we can get a bumper crop in containers on our garage in Wisconsin, I think you can grow it almost anywhere), and most importantly, to finally learn how to cook it well and to share that knowledge with others. (I've managed to cook okay eggplant before-- you have to leech out the bitterness-causing-stuff and then cook the crap out of it-- but I have always been too impatient to cook truly great eggplant. One day.)
Monday, November 11, 2013
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Oddest fruit yet
As I was walking home today, I passed the small produce market that is kitty-corner from my apartment, as I usually do. The two side walls are open and the tables and bins of fruit pour out and stake a claim on part of the sidewalk as theirs. I often look over the fruit that's set out on the sidewalk tables and peer inside to see what is there today, what looks good, and what looks just plain interesting. So as I walked by, I saw two little foam trays piled with small brown fruit and saran wrapped. I did not recognize these fruits. They were about the size of a traditional red rubber ball or a really enormous gumball. They were the color of kiwis, but not as furry-- they had more of maybe a peach fuzz, not even that much. And the bottom was sort of open, with long sepals, like a rose hip. I saw these:
Yeah, you don't know what they are either. I was peering very carefully at them, positing that maybe they were some sort of whole nut with the flesh around it and that maybe if I could see in the bottom hole I'd be able to tell that there was a hazelnut or whatever in there. As I'm bending down, squinting into the package from like three inches away as though I were Sherlock Holmes and this were The Case of the Mysterious Fruit, the owner comes up. And says something to me.
I started out, of course, with my standard response to anyone speaking any Turkish to me in public: "Uhhhh....." Luckily, though, I had just come from Turkish lessons! "Bu ne?" I asked, pointing. ("What is it?") I know more fruit/nut/etc. vocabulary than anything else, as most exotic fruits in Russian share the Turkish name. But I did not understand his response. He beckoned me inside the store.
In there was a large box full of them. He broke one in half, bit into one part and handed me the other, gesturing for me to try it. Before I could, though, he stopped me and sort of signed -- wait, be careful. Then he made a sour face and impressed upon me that it would leave a sort of weird feeling in your mouth and throat. Astringent, got it. I bit in, and damn. He was not half joking. It was way worse than even a raw quince. Like, raw quince I could maybe eventually get used to in very small bites. This was... I don't even know what this was. It was sharp. Oh, I know what it was like! It was very much like a crab-apple. Only instead of taking a teeny tiny, sneakily exploratory nibble from a crab-apple off my granny's tree, it was a pretty good-sized bite of... whatever this was. He good-naturedly laughed at the face I made. He asked if I liked it and/or if I wanted some, and I emphatically said no.
I was looking around at the other produce, thinking partly that now I felt I had to buy something, but also that I could do with some fruit or veg in my diet this weekend, when he tapped me on the shoulder. He had another one in his hand. He spoke rapidly and made several gestures comparing this one to the previous one I'd eaten. This new one looked sort of shriveled and a bit rotten. But from reading about quinces, I knew that bletting was a thing. (Bletting is sort of like post-ripening but pre-rotting. Only some fruits do it. In the above link, the example is actually this fruit!) So I guessed that he was telling me that this new fruit had been bletted and would now be tasty.
And oh man, it really was. It tasted sort of like applesauce (and had approximately the same consistency, but was gooier and sticky), but like it was made with pears or quince instead-- though, while it was a bit mealy, it wasn't as mealy as pears or quince are. (Also note that all these fruits are related so the similarities are not totally random.)
I actually thought about buying some but it seemed like they were a bit picked-over and not many bletted ones were left. I didn't want to buy the others and let them sit awhile because that seemed like a good recipe for me to forget about them and they would stay there until they were beyond bletted and had rotted but I wouldn't be able to tell the difference and I'd eat them anyway. (I bought two big beautiful pomegranates for 1 USD instead. Combined, not each. I will rub this in your collective faces because you can go eat tacos and I can't so you actually come out ahead.)
At home I looked it up. In English, the name is medlar. I have never, in my whole entire life, heard of a medlar. Neat.
Interesting fact: in literature such as Chaucer and Shakespeare, and continuing through the 16th and 17th centuries, medlars are often called "open-arses" because, well... yeah. Also they are a symbol for prostitution, because they have rotted before they are ripe. (Their appearance in British Literature makes me wonder if they eat medlars in Britain. They are closer to the Mediterranean than we are, after all.)
Anyhow. Here are a couple photos showing what they look like merely ripe vs bletted (both photos from Wikipedia):
| From www.comfortablyhungry.com |
I started out, of course, with my standard response to anyone speaking any Turkish to me in public: "Uhhhh....." Luckily, though, I had just come from Turkish lessons! "Bu ne?" I asked, pointing. ("What is it?") I know more fruit/nut/etc. vocabulary than anything else, as most exotic fruits in Russian share the Turkish name. But I did not understand his response. He beckoned me inside the store.
In there was a large box full of them. He broke one in half, bit into one part and handed me the other, gesturing for me to try it. Before I could, though, he stopped me and sort of signed -- wait, be careful. Then he made a sour face and impressed upon me that it would leave a sort of weird feeling in your mouth and throat. Astringent, got it. I bit in, and damn. He was not half joking. It was way worse than even a raw quince. Like, raw quince I could maybe eventually get used to in very small bites. This was... I don't even know what this was. It was sharp. Oh, I know what it was like! It was very much like a crab-apple. Only instead of taking a teeny tiny, sneakily exploratory nibble from a crab-apple off my granny's tree, it was a pretty good-sized bite of... whatever this was. He good-naturedly laughed at the face I made. He asked if I liked it and/or if I wanted some, and I emphatically said no.
I was looking around at the other produce, thinking partly that now I felt I had to buy something, but also that I could do with some fruit or veg in my diet this weekend, when he tapped me on the shoulder. He had another one in his hand. He spoke rapidly and made several gestures comparing this one to the previous one I'd eaten. This new one looked sort of shriveled and a bit rotten. But from reading about quinces, I knew that bletting was a thing. (Bletting is sort of like post-ripening but pre-rotting. Only some fruits do it. In the above link, the example is actually this fruit!) So I guessed that he was telling me that this new fruit had been bletted and would now be tasty.
And oh man, it really was. It tasted sort of like applesauce (and had approximately the same consistency, but was gooier and sticky), but like it was made with pears or quince instead-- though, while it was a bit mealy, it wasn't as mealy as pears or quince are. (Also note that all these fruits are related so the similarities are not totally random.)
I actually thought about buying some but it seemed like they were a bit picked-over and not many bletted ones were left. I didn't want to buy the others and let them sit awhile because that seemed like a good recipe for me to forget about them and they would stay there until they were beyond bletted and had rotted but I wouldn't be able to tell the difference and I'd eat them anyway. (I bought two big beautiful pomegranates for 1 USD instead. Combined, not each. I will rub this in your collective faces because you can go eat tacos and I can't so you actually come out ahead.)
The man brought his teenaged son over, I believe saying that said son spoke English but in fact he only knew a few words and could understand little more. I did learn that he did not know the name of the fruit in English but that it was native to Turkey. I asked him to write down the Turkish name-- muşmula.
At home I looked it up. In English, the name is medlar. I have never, in my whole entire life, heard of a medlar. Neat.
Interesting fact: in literature such as Chaucer and Shakespeare, and continuing through the 16th and 17th centuries, medlars are often called "open-arses" because, well... yeah. Also they are a symbol for prostitution, because they have rotted before they are ripe. (Their appearance in British Literature makes me wonder if they eat medlars in Britain. They are closer to the Mediterranean than we are, after all.)
Anyhow. Here are a couple photos showing what they look like merely ripe vs bletted (both photos from Wikipedia):
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Groceries round the world!
This is so interesting: Groceries Around the World. It's a series of photos showing what a week's worth of groceries for a family look like in various countries. Very pertinent to my ideas about cooking abroad!
Commentary: I heard they drank a lot of Coke in Mexico, but damn, that's a lot of Coke. And from me, that's saying something.
Also, look at all the delicious fruit and veg we have here in Turkey! Just two nights ago I was walking home much later than I usually do, at nearly midnight, and there was this big random-ass impromptu (?) market in the square and street. I bought two of the most amazing mandarins I've ever eaten for 25 kurus (like 12.5¢). Mm.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Last of the persimmons!
Yesterday I made Persimmon Rice Pudding. Skipped orange zest as per reviews; added a teaspoon of cinnamon and one tablespoon of the sugar was infused with vanilla (that's how they do vanilla flavoring here [and in Russia]).
It was pretty damn good.
It was pretty damn good.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Spinach and Persimmon Salad
Aren't these the biggest, most beautiful persimmons you've ever seen?
I bought these without thinking about how six persimmons were rather a lot to eat before they went bad. So I trolled Epicurious for persimmon recipes. There were sadly few, and most needed equipment I did not have. Like an oven. I eventually found a few salads and sort of combined ideas from them to make this, which was amazing.
Lemon-mustard dressing (Adapted from the best kale salad recipe ever.):
1 pt lemon juice
1 pt olive oil
1 tsp Dijon mustard
1-2 tsp garlic powder (I like garlic, okay?)
Salt & pepper
(I also add 2 tsp of dried onion at home.)
Add the mustard a bit at a time as it gets very mustardy very quickly. (This also depends on whether you have nice or crappy mustard.) If you really like mustard, add more. Mix very well!
Salad:
1 persimmon*
Spinach (or mix of greens)
Feta cheese, brynza, beyaz peynir, or the like
Your favorite thinly-sliced cured meat**
Simple. Wash and tear spinach. Cut up meat. Cut up persimmon. Cut or crumble cheese. Dress. Amazing salty-sweet-tart goodness!!
* I realize persimmons are not exactly easy to find or cheap most places. But you could easily replace it with any somewhat similarly textured fruit. Or any fruit at all really. I think it'd be good with nectarines or maybe mangoes.
** I used pastırma. Pastırma on its own I found to be terribly disappointing. It is beef that's been salted, cured, and covered with a spice paste, then thinly sliced. Someone described if as prosciutto, but made with beef, and I got very excited as I love prosciutto but generally prefer other meats to pork. But by "like prosciutto" I guess what this person meant was "cured meat" because it did not taste like prosciutto at all. It's vaguely sweet in a way that I found very off-putting. Now, it's not terrible, and I can see how others might like it, and I may even try it again from a proper butcher's instead of Happy Avantaj supermarket. Anyway, I cut off the thick spice-paste crust and cut the meat in tiny bits and it was okay in the salad. But use prosciutto if you can, because it is amazing. [Man, if I were an EU citizen I would so be living it up in Spain and eating all the cured pork. Sigh.]
 |
| Nature's candy! |
I bought these without thinking about how six persimmons were rather a lot to eat before they went bad. So I trolled Epicurious for persimmon recipes. There were sadly few, and most needed equipment I did not have. Like an oven. I eventually found a few salads and sort of combined ideas from them to make this, which was amazing.
Lemon-mustard dressing (Adapted from the best kale salad recipe ever.):
1 pt lemon juice
1 pt olive oil
1 tsp Dijon mustard
1-2 tsp garlic powder (I like garlic, okay?)
Salt & pepper
(I also add 2 tsp of dried onion at home.)
Add the mustard a bit at a time as it gets very mustardy very quickly. (This also depends on whether you have nice or crappy mustard.) If you really like mustard, add more. Mix very well!
Salad:
1 persimmon*
Spinach (or mix of greens)
Feta cheese, brynza, beyaz peynir, or the like
Your favorite thinly-sliced cured meat**
Simple. Wash and tear spinach. Cut up meat. Cut up persimmon. Cut or crumble cheese. Dress. Amazing salty-sweet-tart goodness!!
* I realize persimmons are not exactly easy to find or cheap most places. But you could easily replace it with any somewhat similarly textured fruit. Or any fruit at all really. I think it'd be good with nectarines or maybe mangoes.
** I used pastırma. Pastırma on its own I found to be terribly disappointing. It is beef that's been salted, cured, and covered with a spice paste, then thinly sliced. Someone described if as prosciutto, but made with beef, and I got very excited as I love prosciutto but generally prefer other meats to pork. But by "like prosciutto" I guess what this person meant was "cured meat" because it did not taste like prosciutto at all. It's vaguely sweet in a way that I found very off-putting. Now, it's not terrible, and I can see how others might like it, and I may even try it again from a proper butcher's instead of Happy Avantaj supermarket. Anyway, I cut off the thick spice-paste crust and cut the meat in tiny bits and it was okay in the salad. But use prosciutto if you can, because it is amazing. [Man, if I were an EU citizen I would so be living it up in Spain and eating all the cured pork. Sigh.]
 |
| Pastırma (note spice-paste) |
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Whirlwind day!
Highlights: as good as yesterday's observation was, today's was bad. For so many reasons. Actually debated merits of cutting and running in middle (pros: possibly fired already, don't have to finish the worst lesson ever [which was definitely up there with top worst 40 minutes of my life {which says a lot}] cons: if I run I'm definitely fired). Good points: managed to last through without even crying or losing temper, nobody killed or hurt each other, am not in fact fired, came upon the brilliant idea of teaching them to tiptoe and have Competitive Quietness be a Thing That We Did. Whee.
I hope my coworker is better tomorrow because if I have that class again, I will cry.
Anyway, after school went to the mall (a bigger one, not scary one) with a coworker and some of her friends. So I got to meet new people, who were very cool, and just hang out with people in a social setting which--I just realized-- I have not been able to do since I've got here. No wonder I've been lonely. Got cute cheap hat. It looks sorta like a train conductor hat. I like trains. And my hair looks cute sticking out.
Anyway the real important part of said mall trip was cake and tea at an outdoor rooftop cafe with heaters and a little pond up there. So nice! So tasty!
I hope my coworker is better tomorrow because if I have that class again, I will cry.
Anyway, after school went to the mall (a bigger one, not scary one) with a coworker and some of her friends. So I got to meet new people, who were very cool, and just hang out with people in a social setting which--I just realized-- I have not been able to do since I've got here. No wonder I've been lonely. Got cute cheap hat. It looks sorta like a train conductor hat. I like trains. And my hair looks cute sticking out.
Anyway the real important part of said mall trip was cake and tea at an outdoor rooftop cafe with heaters and a little pond up there. So nice! So tasty!
Monday, October 21, 2013
I am awesome, EOM
...or maybe not yet. Anyway, had my second observation and totally rocked it. Which is good, because the first one I felt was rocky. And it was the same class! Oh, and they were excited to see me (which observing teacher noted)-- once I came in they were all, "Erica-teacher! Erica-teacher! Hello!"
Anyway, it wasn't perfect, and I made some mistakes, of course. But it is such a good feeling to have a class not only go well, but to be able to say, look. That. That is what I can do. I fully did my best, and I am proud of that. Any mistakes I have made are fully my own, and they are due to things I have not yet learned rather than crappy luck or anything else. (You could argue that ideally one could handle anything chance threw at you, but really, there is still that element of chance there.) Anyway, it is a good feeling, and one I've never had after an observation lesson.
Also the kids got a bit rowdy at the end but the observing teacher had already left, ha-ha!
Anyway, it wasn't perfect, and I made some mistakes, of course. But it is such a good feeling to have a class not only go well, but to be able to say, look. That. That is what I can do. I fully did my best, and I am proud of that. Any mistakes I have made are fully my own, and they are due to things I have not yet learned rather than crappy luck or anything else. (You could argue that ideally one could handle anything chance threw at you, but really, there is still that element of chance there.) Anyway, it is a good feeling, and one I've never had after an observation lesson.
Also the kids got a bit rowdy at the end but the observing teacher had already left, ha-ha!
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