Turkey for Thanksgiving – or – Dinner with Donkeys in Dipkarpaz

Posted on November 23, 2013 by lizcameron

A few wild donkeys from Northern Cyprus. Perfect spot for two human donkeys (stubborn lot that we are) to vacation despite it all. (Click photo for attribution)

I had to make the joke. Karagöz the trickster puppet – and fan of bad jokes – has been bugging me for weeks to do so.  “If you are really going to make the trek to Cyprus for Thanksgiving, you’d better damned well make the joke!” The back story is this: After over a year of being various states of unwell (and thanks, by the way, for all of your continuing good wishes), with two trips planned and cancelled, we faced losing a chunk of airplane ticket change, and decided to fit this trip into my sabbatical year fellowship’s vacation period.  M. needs a vacation – and I know – though he will not admit – a hit of his original home country.

Kokoreç in the making. (Image thanks to the inimitable Carpetblog.typepad.com)

He’d be more likely to say that the U.S. is his home now – but I can see that there is an ache for “home stuff.”  This will include, he tells me with great relish, a culinary visit for some tripe soup and kokoreç in Istanbul as well as some sahlep (here’s an old post about that wintry drink) although it might be a little bit early.  It’s the season for those things.

English: Greek-orthodox Church in Rizokarpaso ...

English: Greek-orthodox Church in Rizokarpaso (Dipkarpaz) or Karpass, Northern Cyprus Photo taken 2002. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Don’t google kokoreç if you are faint of heart – but I will explain that the Turks I know say that eating charcoal-grilled colon in the winter is safer than eating it in the summer, for reasons you can surmise…Kenne, the Puppet known as the Queen of Manners and Maintenance of Ladylike Behavior, has, by the way, just fainted at the notion that I will even CONSIDER eating kokoreç.  She was heard to say “It is just not done by a lady – ah – all my efforts -” before she fainted.  Her handmaiden, Zenne, the puppet who is as nervous and shakey as a bowl of quince jelly, is fanning her and bringing out the smelling salts.

Map of Cyprus (click link for attribution)

And despite all the kafuffle (my Granny’s word for chaos) in the realm of the puppet ladies, it is true, we’re heading to Turkey for the Thanksgiving holiday.  Well, the TRNC actually, a.k.a. Northern Cyprus.  Specifically, we are headed as far off the beaten track as possible, which in this case is the Dipkarpaz peninsula – it points just towards Antakya/Northern Syria and lies close to Mersin on the Turkish mainland.  M. has never been – nor have I.

Golden beach at sunset, Karpass Peninsula

Golden beach at sunset, Karpaz Peninsula (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Why not,” I decided out of frustration at my health, “take a trip to a UN Peacekeeping Zone while dealing with ongoing illnesses? I don’t want to lose that money – and I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired!”

So for now it’s back to the packing drawing board – only taking one carry-on and must reduce current load by half to be able to carry it comfortably. I am focused on a few days with loved ones in Istanbul before relaxing in the Cypriots’ sun while watching my husband’s happiness at a real vacation with the food (and Ak Deniz) that he misses so much. Please stay tuned for stories to come, I am sure. Hopefully, the stories will involve information about Cypriot politics (oy vey!), the ocean trash problem in this part of the Mediterranean Sea (a.k.a. Ak Deniz) and of course – wild donkeys – in a good way!

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The Karagöz puppets comment on recent legal changes in Turkey, my absence from the Internet & obtaining a “certificate of good citizenship”

Posted on November 6, 2013 by lizcameron

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The Karagöz puppets have been nagging at me. “When are you going to write about us again on that Internet?” I usually say something along the lines of “be quiet, I’m studying Turkish on Rosetta Stone,” or at times I’ll just say “I am so tired and I don’t feel well, I have to put my health first, beyond puppets.” This does not go down well.

They are done being diplomatic and are now much more insistent. I hear them whispering as a group, saying things like “now that M’Lady is still sick, the cross cultural elements of their relationship are even more present in odd ways where perhaps he is not Turkish-seeming at all given how supportive he is! She should be writing! The potential for macho myth stereotype busting is off the charts and she’s ignoring it.

And then I hear the politically correct puppet named Esma say things like “just because he’s a Turkish man, we shouldn’t assume he can’t or won’t be happy to cook and clean.”

However, nothing got the puppets more riled up and giggly than seeing the instructions for our Turkish citizenship application for me. They thought the instructions were a perfect example of Turkish red tape bureaucracy. And indeed I do agree. The puppets were not, however, very helpful when it came to understanding how to implement the instructions.

The modern puppet, Celebi, was feeling a bit sarcastic and downtrodden when he commented on our attempt for me to gain Turkish citizenship. He reflected “why do you even want to think about getting Turkish citizenship when there are incremental moves being made by the AKP – such as this move to separate men and women from eating together in public universities. Or even the idea that police should be allowed to search and investigate co-ed private apartments near universities. Every day, there is something new that takes us farther towards traditional sharia-types of law.”

Regardless of our concerns about what is happening in Turkey, we are still exploring the citizenship option – mainly so I will have health care and expanded property rights for our time there.

So, today’s post is actually more of a question. As my application for Turkish citizenship (slowly) moves forward, my next task is to obtain a “certificate of good conduct.”

Oy vey. Allah, allah! How’s that for Islamo-Judaic mixing?

In addition to multiple other bureaucratic papers and photos, we need this in order for M. to apply for our “aile cüzdanı,” which by understand to be a “family card” listing all the members of his family. Of course, needless to say this is a patriarchal focus. Whatever, I’m over that.

Here’s what I’d like to know – how have others gathered this “certificate of good conduct?” Via a criminal record check in once State – in the United States? A letter from a trusted Turkish friend or relative? Any advice greatly appreciated!

And now I will return to Rosetta stone studying… A program which I love and highly recommend. I am speaking more Turkish than I ever have… Even if it makes the puppets cringe, wince and roll over to play dead at my at times grammatically horrible misstatements. More on that to come!

Hoş çakalın!

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Quince mania: The ayva tatlısı that was 9 years in the making…

Posted on October 12, 2013 by lizcameron

Ayva tatlısı or quince sweet a la M (Image by Liz Cameron)

Ayva tatlısı or quince sweet a la M.  He commented that his rendition of this traditional Turkish dish was “perfect” but he needed some kaymak (sort of like clotted cream) and walnut to make it “over the top.” (Image by Liz Cameron)

Last night, M. and I enjoyed the most luscious of Turkish desserts, Ayva tatlısı or quince sweet.  And it was a welcome change to our diet of take out food – none of which has included dessert.

Much to my surprise, the last few weeks have involved the consumption of takeout food. The Karagoz puppets, along with M’Lady, M. and the dog, have STILL been totally wiped out from the series of ongoing health challenges M’Lady is facing.

In the face of all the takeout boxes, Kenne, (the queen of etiquette and maintenance of ladylike behavior puppet) has even given up on encouraging me to cook, instead focusing on the etiquette of how to deal with delivery people.  She is basing her teachings on Miss Manner’s Guide to Saving Modern Civilization, an updated version of the original etiquette guide.

Champion quince

So, given all the focus on takeout and the eating of cereal, one might imagine my surprise when M. walked in the door with a bag of lemons, a box of sugar and four quinces. Quince, in case you don’t know, is “ayva” in Turkish, and looks like an odd-shaped, bumpy yellow pear.

I grew up with my Granny’s quince jelly on Cape Cod (a rendition of the Spanish version she grew up with in Murcia) and often buy the Turkish brand Tamek’s Ayva Receli (quince jam). It is a comfort food for me as it reminds me of Granny. The fact that M. and I share a love of Quinces is wonderful – a small way that our very different upbringings intersect.  Celebi, the Modernist puppet, remarks “See, M’Lady, there is always a way to connect in a cross-cultural marriage, even in the age of globalization, in this case, via the simple Quince!”

A basket of quince at the Portland Farmers Market.

A basket of quince at the Portland Farmers Market. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As M. barreled into the kitchen, he announced, with glee, that he was going to cook Ayva tatlısı.  While directly translated as something along the lines of “quince sweet,” this dish is really a poached, spiced quince.  For YEARS, M. has explained how much he loves this dish, dreamt of this dish in quince season and lamented not being in Turkey at the right time to consume as much Ayva tatlısı as possible.

Dropping the bag on the kitchen counter, M. began to work in a frenzy, opening drawers with abandon, like a confused whirling dervish unsure of his new surroundings. I followed along in shock.  Looking into the china drawer, he yelled “where’s the cinnamon, I need it!”  I suggested looking in the spice cabinet.  “What about a cooking spoon?”Giggling, I pointed to the utensil drawer.  And it went on like this for a bit.  Mercan Bey, the Arabian Spice Trader Puppet looked on in shock and a bit of woe, as he realized that M. did not know the kitchen so well.  “I have made such an effort,” Mercan Bey said glumly, “to stock this kitchen with every Turkish spice imagineable…and he doesn’t even know where they are” While an amazing cook during our courtship, M. rarely cooks now despite his significant skill.  To his credit, he does just about EVERYTHING else in the house, so who is to complain?  Nodding his head, Mercan Bey agreed.  It is rare to see a Turkish man vacuum, clean the bathroom and do the shopping…all of which he has done since I am sick.

After securing all of his ingredients in a precarious perch on the counter, he dashed to his desk, calling up a Turkish-language recipe for the dish he has threatened to make for the last nine years but never seem to find the time.  This is “the dish that got away” during our courtship.  Zenne, the Nervous Nellie like a Dish of Quince Jelly Puppet suggested with hands on her cheeks “Perhaps you are on to a new phase in your courtship?”  I smiled, as we are reaching the point of 10 years together.

Quince dessert with cream

Quince dessert with kaymak (clotted cream) (Photo credit: bbak)

As M. worked away in the kitchen, I rested in bed as the onset of lovely wafts of quince and cinnamon made their way across the breezes of the house. One of the best parts of the cloud of sickness and fatigue that has plagued this house as of late, is that we are stopping to smell the roses a bit more, as much as we can. Although the process of getting the Ayva tatlısı to the right color and consistency took longer than the recipe suggested, M. was in freestyling mode, and it came out just perfectly….here is M.’s “personal recipe.”

Ayva tatlısı or quince sweet a la M.

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You will need: 4 Quinces (peeled, halved and cored, with all seeds, peels and detritus reserved); 1 Cinnamon stick (preferably the soft and crumbly Cassia version); a few cloves; 1.5 drinking glasses of water; 2 drinking glasses of sugar.

As you peel and core each quince half, place them in lemon-infused cold water.  They may float, it’s ok.

Place the quinces in the bottom of a large, thick-bottomed saucepan, such as a Le Creuset enamelled cast iron pot.  Cover them 3/4 of the way with the water.  Place the peels and detritus around the quince halves.  Separate the seeds and place them inside the hollow core of each quince half – this will give the dish its signature pink color. Place the cinnamon stick in the center of the quinces

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Two drinking glasses of white castor sugar (Image by Liz Cameron)

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1.5 drinking glasses of water (Image by Liz Cameron)

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Cinamon, cloves and a spice-only mortar and pestle (Image by Liz Cameron)

Bring the pot to a boil on medium heat, then add sugar, and cook on low, for an hour and a half or more, until the quince halves begin to turn pink.

You must watch the stove the whole time.

Place on a dish with quince syrup from what is remaining in the pot – garnish with kaymak and crumbled toasted walnut and proclaim “AFIYET OLSUN!” (bon appetit) with glee!

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