Beguiling Beyoglu.

Taksim Square and Istikial Street are heart of Pera. The square itself is nothing special. But the street which starts way up high and ends at Galata Tower, near the water, is famous, through I'm not sure for what. It's a pedestrian mall, with shops, restaurants and what else? I stopped at a GAP and almost bought a shirt before I came to my senses. There's a San Fransisco-style red cable car that goes up and down the nearly two-mile street and just seeing it climb the hill toward us  had me humming the Rice-a-Roni jingle for the rest of the day).

Along with the GAP and the "San Francisco treat" cable car are shops selling everything from hookahs to walking canes to couture. We stopped halfway down at a restaurant called Saray (established 1949), because it looked charming and in the window displayed the stickiest, sugar-syrup drippingest Burma baklava I had ever laid my peepers on. The "logs" were stuffed with pistachios and wrapped in what translates into "shredded wheat" (Kadayif) and is sliced into negotiable pieces.

Adina got something off the "milky desserts" section of the menu; keskul, a creamy pudding flavored with almonds and dusted with a bit of finely shredded, unsweetened coconut and, of course, pistachios, as is everything dessert in Turkey. She passed on the Tavuk Gogsu, which apparently is a pudding made with finely chopped chicken breast.

I ate one of my two slices and wrapped the other to go. I carried it down the rest of the road, past the Galata Tower and on to the metro to get back to Sultanahamet. Unable to resist any longer, I ate the burma baklava on the metro and had sugary, sticky fingers the whole way back.

Keskul (Pudding)
Often this is made with cream (half-and-half). My version is simpler and less heavy. Some people add a tablespoon or two of ground almonds to the pudding (add it after the sugar), but this makes the custard less creamy/smooth. 

4 cups whole milk
1/4 cup corn starch or rice flour (more traditional)
1/4 cup water
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp. almond extract
Ground pistachios, garnish

Heat the milk in a medium heavy saucepan over medium-high heat until it just begins to boil. 

combine the cornstarch or rice flour with water in a small bowl and stir to dissolve. 
While whisking the hot almost boiling milk, pour in the starch/water mixture. Continue whisking until the mixture is thickened (like melted ice cream). Reduce heat to low and add the sugar, whisking frequently, until the sugar is dissolved in the pudding and the pudding is thickened. Stir in the almond extract, remove from heat and pour the pudding into serving bowls. Chill until ready to serve. Serve garnished with the ground pistachios (add some finely grated unsweetened coconut to serve it Saray-style). 

Modern Art.

I love art, especially modern art. It makes me think (something I'm not used to doing).
When wanted to go to the Istanbul Modern museum. It's located in Pera -- the other side -- of Istanbul. We hopped off our bus (our one stop) and went the museum. Paintings, sculpture, installations, all by Turkish artists. There was a special exhibition called  Past and Future and another special show called Modern Machinery, a selection from a Renault project with commissioned works from the 1960's through the 1980s.

Then we had lunch in the stylish, hip restaurant. Adina ordered a salad and I, lamb ravioli with yogurt sauce. I loved the olive oil presentation.  Divine.

NOTE: No photos allowed in the museum.

Hop off and Stay off.

We tried going on one of those Hop On, Hop Off bus tours in Istanbul. I had loved them in other cities -- Washington DC, Barcelona -- but it just doesn't work in Istanbul. We spent a lot of money, but only hopped on and off twice. Long waiting, infrequent busses, unmarked stops, heat. Not worth it.

Those red earphones did come in handy though on a hot day when I forgot both my hat and a hair tie ...

Narcissist.

I can't resist fresh pomegranate juice. Just seeing the word Turikish word "NAR" or spying those misshapen orbs with little crowns on top in baskets and piled into pyramids at every corner makes me want more juice, or suyu, in Turkish. Just cut those babies in half, and use a

lever-activated squeeze-down citrus juicer and 2-3 pomegranates later, I'm swigging down a glassful. Actually I sip, stretching the experience as long as possible. With the price of pomegranates in the US, I know I will not be drinking this as often.

Hagia Sofia, So Far.

Across the hippodrome past the fountain visible from the Blue Mosque is Hagia Sofia, built nearly 2000 years ago. At the time of construction, this was the biggest cathedral in the world. I can't even begin to imagine that Hagia Sofia was built in 360, especially when I'm inside. It occurs to me that we modern folk are still creating edifices that mimic the look of ancient buildings.

Hagia is pronounced Hiya or Aya. As with many historical houses of worship over the millennia, first this was church. Then it was a mosque.  Now it's a museum. 

I've traveled a lot, but I'm finally beginning to learn a bit about ancient architecture styles -- Ottoman, Greek, Roman, Byzantine and such. Hagia Sofia is an example (some say one of the best) of the Byzantine style -- Roman bricks, more elaborate, lots of domes, brighter interiors and mosaic embellishments. Emperor Justinian, when he commissioned the Hagia, also included bits and pieces, so to speak of other buildings -- including the green marble columns from Ephesus, Izmir (more later).  

 Of note to me, were four angels painted in corners of the sanctuary. Still in the throes of restoration, only one angel's face is visible; the others are still covered in paint from when the church became a mosque. 

(ASIDE) My guide book -- one I picked up in the lobby of our hotel, full of ads since it was produced by Avea, a telecom company (Adina says it was part of ATT) -- was actually quite bad. The English was so badly translated that it was distracting. Still, on the cover was a photo of a mosaic from inside the Hagia Sofia. That's how important this building is to the culture of Istanbul.  I've started thinking about a website devoted to wacky translations. I want to call it fixmycrappyenglish.com. Opinions?

Go Gozleme!

Leaving the Topkapi Palace turn right. Then turn left and start walking. There is a restaurant with an open window. Inside are women making stuffed griddle cakes on a saç -- an enormous, gas-heated, upside-down, slightly convex contraption. I had seen versions of this in Morocco and India, but never in a restaurant. Since I can't resist a food show, I stopped and watched. One woman pinched off hunks of dough and formed them into balls. The balls were rolled extremely thin with a dowel-like rolling pin into large (about 18-inch long) ovals, and filled with cooked ground beef, onions, cheeses, spinach or a combination of these. The fillings were spread over each of the flat circles and then the whole thing was folded, cooked and cut into nine pieces. 

I made a beeline for the door, was seated, reclining on Kilim cushions and ordered my Gozleme -- that's the name of these filled griddle cakes -- filled with spinach and  gooey cheese (they called it yellow cheese, but it was very creamy, like Meunster or Brick cheese.

Folks, these were delicious and right up my alley.  These pancakes satisfied  all my eating sensibilities since they are from one of my favorite food categories; hot stuffed dough.

Restaurants all over Turkey serve Gozleme, I cam to find out.

Since taking a saç griddle home with me in my carry-on didn't seem likely, I re-imagined these made on my crepe machine. 

I couldn't begin to figure out  a recipe for these, so I found one online that looks mighty good. When I get home to try this, I'll see for myself it this works. Below is the link and the recipe.

Gozleme http://www.sbs.com.au/food/recipe/172/Gozleme

Sammi from Rozelle Markets shares her special gozleme recipe with Food Lovers Guide to Australia's Joanna Savill and Maeve O'Meara.

For a tasty variation on gozleme, try Mary Gavalas' gozleme recipe. Also, browse ourTurkish recipes for more gourmet inspiration.

Ingredients

The Dough 
2 cups plain flour, unbleached
2 cups wholemeal flour
Some extra plain flour for dusting
1 tsp salt luke warm water
½ cup vegetable oil e.g.canola
(Makes six gozleme)

The Filling
2 cups grated feta cheese or a mixture of feta and another cheese (mozzarella, cheddar, ricotta)
2 cups finely chopped silver beet or spinach leaves (no stems)
½ cup chopped fresh mint leaves
½ cup chopped flat leaf parsley
½ cup chopped spring onion
½ cup diced brown onion

Mixed with the following:
1 tsp white pepper
1 tsp allspice
1 tsp mixed dried herbs (e.g. oregano, sage) 

Minced Meat Filling (optional)
½ kg minced lamb
2 cloves minced garlic
½ tsp ground cumin
½ tsp paprika (hot or mild) pickled or fresh red chillies (to taste)
1 medium carrot grated
½ cup of pureed tomato or juice olive oil for frying

 View conversion table

Preparation

DoughSift the flours and salt and mix with 1 ½ cups of water in an electric mixer with a dough hook or knead by hand for at least ten minutes.

Keep adding more water a little at a time until you get a very pliable, elastic dough that is easy to knead, but not so watery that it is too sticky to handle. Rubber gloves dusted in flour make the handling easier.

Dust frequently with the extra flour.

Allow the dough to stand, covered, overnight (at least 10 hours).

When ready to cook, divide the dough into six round portions. Dust with flour.

Roll one of the rounds flat with a rolling pin on a flour-dusted surface, into a rectangle shape, as thinly as possible.

Sprinkle on about a teaspoon of oil, then fold over into a square. Fold over twice more into a square. Repeat the dusting, rolling out to a large rectangle, folding, oiling, dusting process three more times.

Repeat the entire process for each of the six rounds. You should end up with six neatly folded, labour-intensive squares! 

Filling and Cooking
Take one of the folded dough squares and roll it out very thinly for the final time, into a large square. Sprinkle on the filling sparingly - as you would for a pizza topping but on half of the square only.

Start with a layer of cheese. Mix the spinach, mint, spring onion and parsley together in a bowl, and add some of this as the next layer. Top with some of the herb-spice-onion mixture.

If desired, add a little of the cooked savoury minced lamb mixture, as the last layer. (For the lamb - pan fry the mince in a little oil until browned, add the other ingredients and continue cooking until the carrot has softened. Add the tomato juice as the mixture begins to dry out. Continue to cook on a low heat for another five minutes.)

Fold over the uncovered half of the square to cover the filling. Press down lightly all over. Cook on pre-heated oiled BBQ hotplate or large skillet, but not too hot, because it should take about ten minutes to cook through, without burning. Turn often. Cut into smaller squares and serve with lemon wedges.

Dueling Muezzin.

Early, really early. Sound asleep. Speakers blare. The Islamic call to prayer. This morning at 5:30 a.m.-ish. It's the muezzin advising worshipers that the time for prayer is now, this moment.  But it's not just the call from the minaret next to my hotel, but from mosques  everywhere -- broadcast from several speakers perched near the top, or on top of each minaret.

Once one muezzin begins, they all begin. Each a different man's voice. The calls overlap and often are a second apart, not beginning at exactly the same moment. While I think they are not all calling the same words, I am certain they are all the same. Or maybe not?

The first two mornings, I didn't hear the call. The next morning I heard it clearly. And it was loud. The Blue Mosque nearby has six minarets, each with several speakers on top. Four more times a day the muezzin will sound the call to prayer, recorded, not live, I imagine, though I could be wrong again.  Hear what the mezzuin sounds like by clicking this link.

Happy to be Blue.

The most photogenic building in Istanbul has to be the Sutlan Ahmed Mosque, or, as it's known colloquially, the Blue Mosque, admired for it's classic Ottoman architecture. Located on prime Sultanahmet real estate, the mosque benefits that stunning Fountain of Sultan Ahmed III a cobblestone's throw away in the old hippodrome area. Built some 400+ years ago, the Blue Mosque is perfection, with it's wedding cake tiered domes and six minarets (count them, six!), highly unusual in the world of mosques, and apparently quite the scandal when it was built, because Mecca's Masjid al-Haram didn't have nearly as many (though soon after, Mecca's Masjid al-Haram added a few more to fix this problem; Mecca's soon boasted seven minarets). 

The interior of the mosque explains the name -- the place is filled with blue and white tiles made in Izmir. The floors were covered with crimson-hued, floral wall-to-wall carpet. 

Since we were not worshippers in this working holy place, we entered with other visitors around the side of the building where inappropriately dressed women without headscaves -- me, for instance with only my big black hat -- and women AND men with exposed legs, were handed glorious blue wraps and plastic bags to slip our shoes into since Mosques always enforce a "no shoe rule." There's no charge to enter, but donations are appreciated as you leave. 

It wasn't prayer time, so the mosque's innermost center was not crowded, but the tourist area was, so we gaped, gawked, admired and skedaddled, impressed, of course. All those domes from the outside? Stunning on the inside. 

Topkapi!

Istanbul just keeps on giving. Topkapi Palace is full of intrigue -- emperors, sultans, concubines,  harems, eunuchs, many wives (isn't one wife work enough?), politics, royal families. It was a symbol of power for the Ottoman empire, and when the empire finally collapsed after World War 1 (around the time my grandparents left Turkey), the new government turned the palace compounds into a museum. All this commotion and drama would have made for a great HBO series. Now Topkapi is a World Heritage Site.

After standing in line with the hordes to buy tickets, you enter the 500+ year old palace through the Imperial gates.  At every glance there are gardens exploding with tulips (Istanbul is a tulip center -- we were lucky enough to come at the last gasp of tulip season -- Holland has nothing on Turkey when it come to tulips). Tulips feature so much in Turkish, they're reflected everywhere, from tile walls (of the palace and more), painting, pottery and such. There were no furnishings in the room, so it was hard to figure how the endless hallways and rooms fit together (a little eavesdropping on some group tours explained a little).

Of course, palaces usually boast the best real estate, so the views of the Bosphorus were breathtaking (even through a somewhat smoggy haze). There are plenty of places to get lost in the Palace which had numerous additions over the centuries. And at one point Adina and I lost each other for about 30 minutes. We eventually ran into each other just as I was formulating my plan about escape back to our hotel room.

We decided to forgo the extra visit to the Imperial Treasury because the line to get in was crazy long, wrapping itself around an entire courtyard. It was too hot and we were getting hungry.

As we were leaving we noticed generator trucks and scurrying about for some soft of event. Crews were setting up for Istanbul's jazz festival event for the next evening.

Loco for Loukma.

Hot fried dough orbs bathed in sweet syrup. That's an entire food category that makes me giddy. I still have memories of Indian Gulab Jamun in Jaipur...

This was sold as street food on my Bosphorus cruise stop. I bought them as we were leaving to board the ferry on its return. I ate a few. Adina gobbled a couple. A few "popped out" of my little dish in route and the rest I gave to a surprised but happy stranger while we waited to board the ferry. 

For many years I've made my version of loukma, which is called Bimuelos -- I even published one a few years ago in HOUR Magazine as a Sephardic Chanukah treat.

Here is my story (just click on the link). 

Bimuelos (or Loukma in Turkish)

Foods fried in oil are allegorical and traditional during Hanukkah. Most American Jews are of Eastern European descent and are known as Ashkenazim. Latkes, (fried potato pancakes) are the American “it” food at Hanukkah. Like their German or Polish relations, latkes stem from the culinary traditions of these countries.

Jews who settled in Spain and Portugal, are referred to as Sephardim. The Spanish Inquisition scattered Sephardim to, among other places, what is now Greece and Turkey, where other cooking styles were adopted. Among these are fried sweets called bimuelos, small yeast fritters, drizzled with honey syrup.

Bimuelos

Vegetable oil for frying

Batter

1/2 cup warm (105-115 degrees) water
1 packet (about 2 teaspoons)
active dry yeast
1 teaspoon sugar
2-1/4 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
Another 1/2 cup warm water
1 large egg

Honey Syrup

1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup cold water
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Prepare the batter: Combine water, yeast, and sugar in a large bowl. Allow the mixture to sit until it becomes foamy, about 5 minutes. Add the remaining batter ingredients and, using an electric mixer, beat until uniform. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a damp (not wet) towel and allow the batter to rise for 1 hour.

While the batter is rising, prepare the honey syrup. Combine all ingredients in a saucepan and slowly bring to

a boil over medium-high heat. Cook until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat and allow

to cool.

Fry the batter: Line a baking sheet with several layers of paper towel.

Heat about 2 inches of oil in a large saucepan over high heat, to 375 degrees. Use one spoon to scoop up a small amount of batter. Use another spoon to form the batter into a ball while dropping it into the oil (do not crowd the pan). The fritters will puff and rise to the surface of the oil. Cook 1-2 minutes, turning them in the oil to cook all around.

When cooked, transfer the bimuelos to a bowl and drizzle with the syrup. Serve hot or warm. Makes 12 servings.

Spice Girl.

One benefit of the Bosphorus cruise is that you end up where you started, right in Eminönü.  What this means to foodies (and non-foodies) is the Istanbul Misir Carsisi, the old Egyptian Market (Misir mean Egypt and coincidentally  "corn" -- the food on a cob). This is the holy grail of markets -- the famous spice market. It's big, it's bustling and it's an amazing photo experience. Every spice you can imagine (and some I've never heard of) is represented here. 

But it's not all spices -- it's food (nuts, dried fruits),  typical bazaar stuff -- knickknacks, souvenirs. What comes with these all these stalls selling are the owners of the shops, each wanting you to "give me a chance" to sell you their wares. Nothing turns me off from shopping than someone forcing me to do it. Besides, I still have spices I brought back from my Morocco adventure in 2001 (now they are just souvenirs -- I promise I'll throw them away when I get home). And a friend, recently returned from India, brought me some fresh spices I still haven't broken into). 

Spices have a limited shelf life. They don't get rancid or anything, they just become dull. And dull spices, like dull people, just aren't that desirable. 

Still, the spice market Misir Carsisi is worth the visit. If you don't buy the spices (or candy, nuts or dried fruits), or anything else here, don't worry, you'll find it again and again and again at every farmer's maket, street corner, other bazaar or little shop, all over town. 

On the periphery of the market you can buy live birds, bunnies, guinea pigs and other assorted pets and pet paraphernalia, as well as 

More for us on the Bosphorus.

According to my friend Ebru, no trip to Istanbul is complete without a cruise along the Bosphorus. If you take the tram (3 Turkish Lira (TL) = <$1.70) -- go to the Jetonmatik machine in the near the tram stop and insert your lira and out comes a red plastic token. When the tram doors open, pile in fast (there's no politeness when it comes to boarding a tram -- as people shove in, others snake their collective way out). Stand holding on to what you can. The cars are immaculate. Take a few stops to Eminönü ferry dock, pay your 25 TL for a half-day cruise and get on.

The ferry is three floors, so we scurry to get the best seats on the top deck. No deal -- the seating is first come, first serve, so if you want a coveted seat on the top deck, go early. I stand for about 40 minutes -- it's chilly up high -- before going down a level to inside seating and find Adina.

We serpentine back and forth a few times from stop to stop picking up other travelers. The air is fresh in an otherwise smog hazed city.  A ruckus -- look at the water -- dolphins! The ferry passes under suspension bridges connecting Europe and Asia. Along the way are universities, Istanbul Modern Museum, tidy mansions and houses built tall, not wide (very Amsterdam-like), along the banks. 

Onboard, the ferry company will sell you snacks or tea (vendors walk around with both). The favorite snack of the masses seems to be yogurt cups with packets of powdered sugar for sprinkling. While American kids want Twix, the Europeans and Asians want the yogurt. 

After about 90-minutes you end up at Anadolu Kavağı, on the Asian side Istanbul where everyone must disembark. For two hours you can wander the quaint streets and walk very-uphill to the "fort." OR, you do what we did -- have lunch. We picked a restaurant that was frying, battered mussel kebabs and grilling fresh whole mackerel that looked and smelled irresistible. And it was. 

Fried Mussel Kebabs

I'm not sure what they used for batter, but this "eggy" version works. And, since I'm thinking in US terms, I'm using ingredients available stateside. 

1 pound fresh shelled mussels

1 cup flour

1 tsp. salt

1/4 tsp. ground cayenne pepper (or other hot pepper)

4 large eggs, lightly beaten

Water

Vegetable oil for frying

Dry the mussels with paper towel (if they are not dry, the batter won't stick to them). 

Set aside. 

Combine the dry ingredients in the bowl of a food processor and pulse once or twice to mix. Add the eggs and pulse to combine, to make a thin batter. If the mixture is too thick for dipping the mussels, with the motor running, add water, a little at a time. Let me batter rest  while you add about 1-inch deep of oil in a large, deep skillet (12-inch diameter), over medium-high heat to about 375-degreesF.

Pour the batter into a bowl. Add the mussels to the bowl and toss well to coat the mussels.  Thread the oysters onto 8-inch or 10-inch wood or bamboo skewers -- as many mussels as you like.

Cook the mussels for about 1 minutes until golden. Use tongs to turn the kebabs over and fry on the other side. Serve immediately with fresh lemon wedges. Alternately you may cook the mussels without the skewers. Serve immediately. Makes 4 servings.