A village feast to remember
Plus a couple of Anatolian-ish recipes.
Today, I want to take you back to an experience I had while travelling in Turkey a few years ago. I hope you’ll enjoy this tale of village hospitality that has so sadly all but disappeared from so many cultures in recent times.
I’ve also included links to a handful of recipes related to the story, should you want to try your hands on Anatolian-inspired foods in your own kitchen.
Next week’s free newsletter will be a new recipe for bazlama, an excellent Turkish pan fried bread. It should hit your inbox in a week’s time. Paying subscribers will of course get a new recipe this coming Friday as well.
All the best from Istanbul,
Vidar
As we exited the small town of Küçukkuyu on a journey southwards along the Western Turkish coast, a sign pointing to Zeus Altar caught our attention. In true Turkish style, my partner slammed on the brakes. “Let’s check it out!”. With a little more Turkish manoeuvring, we veered off the main road and headed up the hills towards Zeus Altar.
The attraction itself turned out to be little more than a large rock with a few hollows and a staircase, but it’s said that Zeus, the King of the Gods, lived here, watching and leading wars from this rock.
It’s easy to see where the idea came from. The view is breathtaking. A beautiful overview of the Edremit Gulf, the coastline and the island of Lesbos.
What truly captured our attention, though, we found looking the other way. A picturesque village lay nestled in the hills behind. What a place that must have been to live! We decided to pay it a visit.
It was immediately clear that this wasn’t an ordinary day in a sleepy, little village. The parking lot at the entrance of Adatepe (literally “island hill”) was jam packed. What appeared to be the main village square was filled with tables, chairs and far more people than there were seats available. What was happening? Had we stumbled upon a wedding? A funeral?
We didn’t have long to think about it, as we were immediately welcomed by a local.
"Come, sit down! Have some food!"
Turned out we’d walked right into a village festival.
We soon found ourselves in front of several ladies dressed in traditional village attire, sitting in front of enormous pots of the kind you see in cartoons, chatting away with each other and the people they were serving. The aromas were delicious.
The women needn’t Ford to tell them how to organise, as they duly passed a tray between each other to fill up our plates. Chickpeas with meat, a kind of lamb and grain porridge, a lamb stew with potatoes, some rice, bread.
Would we like som ayran with that?
They wouldn’t accept any payment. This was a festival, after all! We found a table and struck up conversation.
The festival we’d stumbled upon was a regular event that neighbouring villages took turns in organising, inviting not just each other but anyone who happened to stumble upon them on the day. The money for the food apparently came from donations by former residents who have since moved out into the big world (mostly Germany, if the local rumour mill is to be believed). But the labour of love that was the cooking was done by the villagers themselves, in true volunteer fashion. Beautiful!
The food was fantastic, too. Simple, but bursting with flavour, as Turkish cuisine is when done right. No doubt the flavours were improved by the joyous atmosphere, beautiful setting and incredible weather, too, but the ladies clearly knew what they were doing with those large pots. They’d made tastier food for hundreds of people than almost any professional catering company can.
The most unusual item on the tray for me was keşkek, a savoury porridge made of wheat and lamb. I’d heard and read about it, but this was my first time tasting it. Written references exist as far back as 1360, and it’s still an important dish in many parts of the food culture, particularly during festivals, weddings and funerals. I’d later have it in Hatay as well, where they’d made a big batch for breakfast for volunteers as they got ready to prepare a sacrifice feast for later in the day.
The dish isn’t, of course, exclusive to Turkish cuisine or heritage. It’s been eaten equally long in Iran and Syria, and its popularity extends to Greece, the Balkans and Armenia (where it’s known as harissa). Interestingly, the Wikipedia article specifically mentions its importance in Lesbos culture – the island clearly visible across the bay from where we enjoyed our feast.
As we finished our plates, we decided to take a little stroll through the village before moving on to our planned destination for the day. It’s obvious that money had come into the village recently – a lot of the buildings were beautifully restored. All the while retaining its ancient village charm with curvy, narrow streets. A good job done indeed.
And the village festival is an experience I’ll remember a lifetime.
They may not be exactly as the ladies made them, but these are all delicious recipes inspired by the very same food culture and with similar main ingredients:
🔜 Coming Friday for paying subscribers:
Bulgur pilaf with lamb & lemon yoghurt
I could say that this dish is a quicker, more modern take on the keşkek we had in the village, but that would be a stretch too far. The main ingredients are certainly the same, however: Wheat and lamb. And it is (a lot) quicker to make, with more layers of flavour to boot. Perfect for a weeknight meal! This recipe will be for paying subscribers.
Adventures like this are the best part of Turkey.