Why does the food in Istanbul taste so very, very good? Hint: fresh local ingredients, seen in all their abundant splendor at outdoor markets like this one. Local, ripe fruit. Honey. Vegetables to please even the pickiest Turkish chef. And greens? At Doğa Balik, a wonderful rooftop fish restaurant that we found in Cihangir (and ate at during a spectacular passing thunderstorm one night), their meze offerings include more than a dozen kinds of greens, prepared to show off the special distinctions of each. Those greens could easily have come from this woman at the Kadiköy market. Growing, gathering, cleaning, packing and transporting them by hand, she comes to the city from her country home twice a week with just about every kind of roughage imaginable, from exotic lettuces to omega-rich purslanes and everything in between. Plus some scallions, some figs, some tiny unripe pears for pickling -- this lady has a devoted following who will only buy their greens from her. Stewed, mixed with yogurt or eaten raw, many of her garden treasures haven’t yet found their way into the American food consciousness. But if history is any indication, they will.
In Louisiana, fresh greens rule. A long growing season means multiple plantings. When I lived there, taught school and -- due to famous southern hospitality -- was invited over to a student's house -- it was almost always pork/rice/black eyed peas on two thirds of the plate, bitter greens piled high on the remainder.
ReplyDeleteI still eat greens. Am not quite so immersed in the Southern tradition of pork with the grease poured back over. Now, with an Italian wife, cook the greens with VOO and garlic. Serve them alone, first course, like her vegetable-stall-owning-grandparents did. (Wife standing behind him to his left, so as to serve him food while not interfering with the right hand action.)
Grow my own greens these days, sometimes.
Food is history. Food is memories. Food is love. As everyone reading this blog knows.