Monday, January 10, 2011

Breakfast, Turkish Style

via Istanbul-pedia.com
In Turkish, kahvaltı (kahvaltuh) literally means "under the coffee", but it usually translates to "breakfast". A typical menu includes, but is not limited to olives, feta cheese, bread and soft-boiled eggs. As far as I know, kahvaltı always includes hot tea. (I guess this is what you're supposed to eat before you get to the coffee? It's a good idea, since the Turkish coffee is quite strong.) Sometimes we have kahvaltı for a quick dinner. Then I add things like menemen or a potato fritata, some smoked salmon or whatever else tickles my fancy.

A little anecdote:

I got off the plane in Adana in early August, which is the height of hazy, hot and humid season. I'm not talking uncomfortable, it's almost unbearable. And our condo didn't have air conditioning. Hot tea? Not the first thing on my most wanted list. Olives? For breakfast???

Yeah... hot tea AND olives. That's better!

Lucky for me, my mother-in-law had a giant jar of homemade apricot jam and Turkish bread is delicious. I survived on that for about a month before I started to branch out into some cheeses and a few select other things on the table. The hot tea was unavoidable though. (Boxed UHT milk is not yummy.) Fast forward a few months and I was eating some of everything, even the olives.

via Tulumba.com
You might think it's a pain to set out all different sorts of cheeses, olives, etc. every morning, but it isn't. The Turkish have an easy solution. A divided dish that you load up with goodies and cover to refrigerate!

Kahvaltı is reserved for weekends now though. No time to sit around eating the stuff!

Related Articles:

Kahvaltı, Turkish Breakfast



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Friday, January 7, 2011

Recipe Heretic

As a pomegranate, I reserve the right to take what I like and leave the rest, wherever possible. Food seems to be the highest contender in this category. My menemen recipe is probably the best example I have of an adulterated Turkish recipe. My inlaws just can't get past the changes I make.

First, instead of hot green pepper, I use a sweet, red variety. Actually, it's the same kind of pepper that's dried into paprika and I've found plants in the garden centers with the "pimiento" label. A red bell pepper works almost as well. You'd think this substitution isn't a big deal, but apparently, it is.

My second act of recipe heresy: Although the dish has eggs, it is, in fact, a rustic peasant lunch or dinner. (OK, so I'll eat it cold the next day. IF there's any left! Also, I've read that it is a breakfast dish in some parts...just not at my inlaw's. Part of this misunderstanding might stem from the definition of  "Kahvaltı", which is next week's post.) Anyway, my key alteration to this classic dish is serving it over spaghetti. Tomatoes, peppers, onions, herbs...only the eggs make menemen different from a good sauce in my eyes. However, you're supposed to serve it with crusty bread (which is tasty too). Some people add feta cheese or Sucuk (a spicy Turkish sausage), but the straight version is as follows:

4 T Olive Oil
1 large Onion, diced
4 small, red bell peppers, diced
1 long, green chile, diced (Omit if you like.)
1 clove of garlic - chopped. (Optional)
4 large, FRESH tomatoes, peeled and diced - This is the only thing that's irreplaceable. Make it with canned tomatoes at your own risk!
Salt and pepper, to taste
2 T Parsley, chopped.
4 Eggs

Sauté the onion in the olive oil until translucent, then add garlic, peppers, chile and sauté them until soft. Add tomatoes, salt and pepper. Simmer to reduce liquid until the mixture has a sauce-like consistency. Add parsley, eggs and cover until eggs are firm, but not dry. My inlaws swirl the eggs into the sauce. (I like mine "kayısı gibi" - like an apricot...a little undercooked in the center. The travesty!)

If you like cheese, add some crumbled feta at the end. If you have sucuk, fry it first and use the pan drippings to fry the onions, etc. If you eat pork, pancetta might be nice instead.

Any other creative suggestions from my foodie followers? Alesa? Rayna?

Interesting Aside: Menemen is a town near Izmir.
Menemen




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Thursday, January 6, 2011

Antonine Nymphaeum


via Red-Bird @ Flickr
In the spirit of this month's series : International Romance...here's an interesting idea for a destination wedding/honeymoon: The Antonine Nymphaeum.
Guest: "Where are you having the ceremony?"
Bride: "At the Antonine Nymphaeum... It's in an ancient city on the Mediterannean coast of Turkey."

Sounds original and hopelessly romantic to me. The site has survived for centuries, which bodes well for any union consecrated there, I suppose. But then, the place is a ruin, so maybe it would be a long lasting marriage, but not necessarily a good one!

Anyway, the recently restored fountain is near Antalya and all the wonderful sightseeing possibilities there. And you can always hop on a Blue Cruise...



Sagalassos archaeological site to host wedding ceremonies
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Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Obliviate

Emma Watson as Hermione Granger
via Wikipedia
What happens when you write parallel worlds? You, your MC, and your readers select a favorite....and then you have to deal with the one left behind. To be sure, there must be some good in the universe you started with, for example, a loved one...unless you subscribe to the usual theory of high mortality rates for parents and caregivers in YA fiction. Barring that convenience, how do you explain away a character's entire world?

JK Rowling has an answer. (Doesn't she always?)

"Obliviate."

For me, the best of scene of Harry Potter 6.5 was a Hermione moment. The one where she "Obliviates" her parents. In one selfless, excruciating minute, she removes herself from their memory, wiping her image from every photo, so they won't mourn if she never returns. (It's a trick I wish I could use for my MC, but never will.)

Hermione's fix only works on the people left behind though, not the character doing the leaving. But I suppose she could siphon off her memories and store them for the Pensieve....(Another JK Rowling gem!) Better save a back-up file for those.

In fact, I think switching universes is a bit like switching software programs. Except when you have too many applications open, things start crashing (laundry backs up and plot holes expand). Trade universes for countries or states and you'll see many people deal with the dilemma on a regular basis. The price of being a Pomegranate...

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Tuesday, January 4, 2011

International Romance

Last month, I was reflecting on what I'd learned in 2009 about my craft, blogging, and most importantly, the amazing friends I've made on my quest.

This month, I'm excited to announce that four of my new-found kindred spirits have agreed to share some of their personal stories with you.

The series is inspired by International Romance. All five of us found ourselves on foreign soil, with foreign men at some point in our lives, and it has a profound effect on our world view and our writing. Because a relationship with a man from another culture (and the other culture itself) is a quirky, unpredictable thing. And it's all worth it.

So without further ado, I give you Nicole Ducleroir (top left):

My international romance began in 1995 when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in the Central African Republic. For those of you with the same feeble geography knowledge I had at the time I received my invitation to serve, that’s a very poor, land-locked African country which borders Chad to the north and the Democratic Republic of Congo (formerly known as Zaire) to the south. It’s a francophone country, and since I didn’t speak French, I knew I would be required to learn the language during my tour of duty. What I didn’t know was how dramatically my language of life was about to change.

After just three months of language classes during training, I was sent to my rural post of Bambari to work. I lived in a mud brick house with no electricity or running water. By the time I’d been in country about a year, my French was still weak. Outside the capital city, most people didn’t speak French, so I’d become much more comfortable speaking the local language, Sango.

Though I lived in Bambari, I chose a smaller village ten kilometers away in which to work. Lioua, pronounced [Lee-wah], was an agricultural community and exceptionally poor. Unlike my house in the bigger village, the homes in Lioua had dirt floors instead of cement, and grass thatched roofs instead of corrugated tin. The people were warm and hospitable, willing to share with me their only possessions. I was fascinated by their culture; they had so little and yet lived joyful, animated lives. And they were polygamists.
I rode the ten clicks between Bambari and Lioua on my Peace Corps-issued mountain bike about four times a week. The road had greatly deteriorated during the last rainy season. Gullies had formed in the hilly stretches as six months of torrential rains gouged trenches more than two feet deep. Often I had to get off my bike and carry it, hobbling under its weight, hopping from one ribbon of road to the next and praying like crazy I wouldn’t miscalculate and twist an ankle. Needing medical attention that far into the bush would not have been a good thing.

One day on the way back from Lioua, I met Christian. The temperatures were in the nineties and I’d been sweating profusely as I peddled. Several bush taxis had lumbered past, each time raising a cloud of red dust twenty-five feet in the air. When a vehicle passed, I always pulled off the road and stood, straddling my bike, covering my nose and mouth with a bandana. Nonetheless, as the dust settled, it stuck to my humid skin. I became redder with each new layer. And when I resumed my trek, sweat rolled down my face, leaving tracks on my dirty skin. Oh, and I smelled bad.

Christian was surveying the road that day. His company resurfaced the roads washed away by the rains. He asked me if I wanted a lift to the village. The rest, as they say, is history.

It was because of Christian that I have become proficient in French. After our time in Africa, we lived together in France for five years before moving to the States. And it’s because of him that I’ve expanded my awareness of language in general, in love, and in my writing.

My vocabulary for what’s romantic is vast now, compared to before I went abroad. I think my writing is more vibrant for it. I mean, in the days following my first meeting with Christian, I couldn’t pick up a phone and call him. There weren’t any. Every couple days, though, a company truck would pull up to my gate. My heart would race. Gilbert, the Central African hired by the Peace Corps to “guard” my house, would hand me an envelope delivered by the waiting driver. These notes from Christian were, hands down, the most romantic messages ever. I still have every one, tucked away in my journals. I would write a note back and the messenger’s tires would spin out on the dusty road, to get my response back to his patron, his boss, as quickly as possible.

Languages feel as different as they sound. Hearing my husband whisper, “Je t’aime, ma belle,” has a much different impact than hearing it in English. And cursing in another language both entertains me when I’m having “a moment,” and loses its connotative sting when it comes from my husband.
Christian and I still speak Sango together. We get a kick out of it, and it’s our only secret code now that our children can understand French. Sango, though very poor in vocabulary (it only has about 500 words), is a tonal language and extremely poetic. For example, ya means stomach. And da means house. So if you want to say “inside the house,” you say ya ti da (or the stomach of the house). Interesting, right?

My writing is definitely more imaginative and energetic because of my experiences with Christian in Africa and France. The decision to join the Peace Corps changed my life in so many more ways that I’d ever anticipated. And all for the better.

For anyone interested, here is a brief photo album with some of my pictures from Africa:
Peace-Corps

And, here are a couple short stories I’ve written based on my time in Africa:
Fiction
Non-fiction

I want to thank Carolyn for inviting me to participate in this blog series. Carolyn, you’re awesome! I can’t wait to read the other posts. Thank you!!

Thank you so much, Nicole! (I'm going to gush some more thanks to her in a private email...but remember next week Katie Mills (aka Creepy Query Girl) is stopping in to share some of her adventures too!)

For next month, I'm thinking up a series called The Specialists, ie. those bloggery friends who keep a niche for scientific things like medical phenomena, psychiatry, plant poisons, etc... I have a couple of ideas of who to ask, but if you're reading this and have a great suggestion, let me know!



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Monday, January 3, 2011

Good Luck to You


Istanbul streets via HurriyetDailyNews.com
 I thought it would be fun to share some Turkish New Year traditions.
  1. Clean the house from top to bottom. (Gripe. Should've married someone who likes that "new red underwear" tradition instead.)
  2. Decorate with strings of lights, like we do here.
  3. Decorate a tree. Some people are superstitious of having last year's decorated tree in the house on New Years Day, but in Turkey the tree is sometimes part of the celebration.
  4. Have a special dinner with your family and friends. I personally have an intimate dinner on the 31st and a nice brunch with family on the 1st.
  5. You've probably heard the saying "Set out on the right foot". Turks take it literally. They step into a new home or new place of business on the right foot. I "step" into the New Year on my right foot with a small prayer when I get out of bed on January 1st. 
Hey, it can't hurt!

Red underwear and grapes, symbols of good luck
Chic Istanbul neighborhood rolls out red carpet for new year



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Friday, December 31, 2010

And a Happy New Year!

Happy New Year - Yıl Başınız Kutlu Olsun - Szczęśliwego Nowego Roku -Bonne Année

Best wishes to you and yours for the coming year!

Much of the Arabic world follows the Hijri calendar. While the Gregorian calendar is based on the phases of the sun, the Muslim calendar, like the Jewish calendar, is based on the cycles moon. This end of the Gregorian year 2010 corresponds to Al Hijri 1432. The Hijri calendar only has 354-355 days, which moves holidays up and down the seasons. For example, Ramadan was in the middle of summer this year, while Lent is always in the spring.

Also, since Friday is the Muslim holy day, in the countries which follow Hijri most people work on Saturday and Sunday. So when I worked in Abu Dhabi, I had Thursday and Friday off. However, in Turkey, society follows the Gregorian calendar and work days. The change was part of the extensive reforms proposed by Ataturk and his Westernization of the country.

As for the Mayan calendar... I just hope it's wrong because I still have a book to publish!

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