Finding the Christmas spirit in Istanbul
A tale of traditions, family time and food culture.
Dear reader.
Before diving into this week’s newsletter I want to say thanks for being here! I appreciate you being a part of this, and hope you’re enjoying my weekly presence in your inbox. Even if I’m not always perfectly on time 🙃
This week and next, I’ll be (mostly) leaving Turkey and the Middle East behind as I dive into what I consider the richest part of the food culture I grew up in. Advent and Christmas.
This month’s recipes for paying subscribers will follow the same theme. I’ve selected three recipes that have proven particularly popular with my Norwegian readers over the years, and can’t wait to share them with you. They’re perhaps not strictly traditional, but certainly seasonal and delicious.
I hope you’ll find this slight detour into Norwegian culture and foods interesting (and tasty!). And feel free to share the newsletter with a friend or two, should you feel so inclined.
Vidar
This is a hill I’m willing to die on: There’s no holiday quite like Christmas.
Preceded by advent and weeks of anticipation, it was the undisputed highlight of my childhood years. A considerable feat for the darkest month of the year, when the sun rises and sets while the kids are still at school and the adults at work.
As an adult, I see that the attraction of December is amplified by the simple fact that it follows November. I don’t know what the month of November looks like where you live, but near the polar circle, it’s the most depressing of them all. A dark hole you just can’t wait to get over with. The days are dark, cold, rainy and windy, the ground often icy. Growing up in a family heavily invested in sports as entertainment, November also represented a vacuum between the end of football and the beginning of winter sports. As a student, I spent the month buried in books to prepare for upcoming exams. While both sports seasons have long since extended into November and I no longer have exams to study for, I’m still very, very happy to be in Istanbul rather than Norway during the eleventh month of the year.
With the first Sunday of advent, however, everything changes.
With a bit of luck, the first snowfall has arrived, meaning lots of fun for the kids and days that feel way brighter, even though they’re actually shorter. My mother would decorate the house in all sorts of Christmas decorations. There was a constant smell from the kitchen – biscuits, sweet flatbreads known as lefse, saffron buns for Lucia. Even the regular dark sandwich bread was replaced by “Christmas bread” – less of a bread and more of a giant cardamom bun with raisins. TV channels broadcast special advent series for children, with daily episodes. All of which lead up to the undisputed highlight for every child: Christmas eve with its unwrapping of presents.
Oh what a joy to be a kid in December.
At 42, I still go back “home for Christmas”, a concept so common even among adults it’s the literal name of the most played contemporary Christmas hit in Norway as well as a hit Netflix series. These days, the attraction of presents and blinking lights are long gone. Instead, it’s the spending time with family, with nothing on the agenda except eating and being together, I so look forward to.
I’ve only missed Christmas with the family once. You can probably guess which year that was. A last minute introduction of a poorly thought out quarantine system for arrivals to Norway made it all but impossible to travel in December 2020. But could I still find the Christmas spirit in Istanbul?
Decorations proved the least of issues. While Christmas isn’t generally celebrated in Turkey, they’ve adopted virtually every piece of Christmas decorations for New Year’s. Visiting Turkish home decoration shops in Istanbul at this time of year feels a little absurd, as they’ve got all the decorations front and centre, but without a single reference to Christmas holidays. The trees are «New year trees», while the decorations are named by their literal inspiration, like “berry cup” for a Christmas themed cup with a mistletoe ornament.
Plus, there’s always IKEA. I had a small box of decorations I used to put up every year during advent, and topped it up with my first ever(!) Christmas tree, a few lights and a few extra decorations. Ever since, I’ve decorated my Istanbul Christmas tree every first Sunday of advent, even though my family’s tradition dictates this shouldn’t be done until 23 December. But it feels good to have a reminder of the holidays ahead here, too. Luckily, the cat is only mildly curious about the tree, prefering to nap on the nearby radiator to exploring the tree.
Christmas itself was a sparse affair that year.
I did manage to procure a pork roast, but not pork belly, one of the two most common options for Norwegian Christmas dinner (the other being cured and steamed lamb ribs, which simply doesn’t exist here). So there was a sort of Christmas meal.
There was Skype, for family time. There were presents, which we opened together.
Except, of course, we didn’t. We were 2,500 kilometres (1,500 miles) apart. We didn’t slouch on the couch together after eating a little too much at dinner, while trying to find space in the tummy for the endless plates of Christmas bakes my mother had long since placed on the table, either. The next morning, there wasn’t a family Christmas breakfast, or a walk together in the woods.
Whatever all the shops try to tell us, Christmas isn’t about decorations or gifts. It’s about traditions and spending time with your loved ones.
But what played the biggest part in making it a little better? The food, of course.
Through advent, I was in regular contact with my mother as I tried to recreate some of the things she always makes for Christmas, and which I now was on my own for. She sent me pictures of her hand written recipes from decades ago, which I adapted as best as I could with what I have. Some turned out just the way I remember them, others I spruced up a little with some additional ingredients, while one or two proved too difficult without my mother’s steady hand by my side.
But more important than the food itself, even, was the feeling that we were sharing in this endeavour, even if we were far apart.
Curious about what my family’s Christmas bakes are? That’s what next week’s newsletter is about, so keep an eye on your inbox next week.
🔜 Coming over the weekend for paying subscribers:
Brussels sprout salad with pomegranate
This is the first of three “Christmas themed” recipes I’ll be publishing this December. This dish has proven hugely popular among my Norwegian readers, several of whom have made this a recurring star side at their Christmas dinner tables. The key here is in the dressing, which brings out the best of the brussels sprout as well as adding gentle seasonal warmth with some carefully selected spices.
If you’ve been thinking about upgrading, now is a good time. Any subscription taken up this month will be 20% off for one year.
The next free newsletter will hit your inbox during next week, and will be about my Christmas bakes – traditional and not so traditional.
Until then,
Vidar