Gaziantep: The city of gastronomy
Part one: A visit to the local market.
The next few despatches from me will be traveller’s letters from a recent trip to Gaziantep and Hatay, two of the most exciting food cities of Turkey. But there’s more to unpack than food, too: a long and eventful history and the aftermath of the devastating earthquakes earlier this year. Subscribe for free to receive the traveller’s letters, or upgrade to paid to get recipes to go along with the letters.
As we approached for landing, a quick glance out of the window told the perhaps most famous story of the city we were about to visit – for me, for the first time. In every direction, pistachio trees, spaced generously apart, as far as the eye could see.
The story of Gaziantep is the story of warfare, changing rule and courage. It’s even made its way into its name. Long known as Antep, the prefix “Gazi” was added by decree of the young Turkish government to honour the city’s brave resistance during the Turkish war of independence a century ago. Gazi is a muslim honorary term bestowed upon those who return from a battle considered righteous, similar to that of martyrdom for those who die in battle. Every written reference I’ve seen to the city uses its full name, but in daily use most Turks still refer to it as Antep. Even people from the city will say they’re Antepli. From Antep.
For all of its history, however, Gaziantep is now best known for its outstanding local cuisine. Not least the purple tinted emerald green pistachios.
The purple green gold of Gaziantep
Among those deliberately seeking out pistachios from Gaziantep are Sam & Sam Clark of Moro and Morito, some of my favourite London restaurants. They are but one couple of the many top chefs around the world who happily pay top dollar to get their hands on Gaziantep pistachios for their restaurant menus.
Turks, of course, have known this for a long time. Here, there’s fıstık (“pistachios”), and then there’s Antep fıstığı (“pistachios from Antep”). They’re not the same, and no one is in any doubt as to which is preferable.
No wonder. The conditions around Gaziantep are excellent for growing pistachios. Long-standing tradition ensure the very best of care is taken to get a product of utmost quality. It’s one of the engines of the local economy, though for most Turks, that’s got another price. The pistachios are so prized globally that much of it is exported. As a result, they’ve become very expensive at home, too – too expensive for most of the local population. On my last visit to the spice market, roasted pistachios were around 250 TL (US$ 9) for 250 g (½ lbs), a typical snack packet size. While you can get it slightly cheaper, similarly sized packets of supermarket biscuits at 25 TL (US$ 1) are a more realistic snack for most.
Fallen monuments
The second view I remember from my short trip to Gaziantep – we arrived with the early morning flight from Istanbul and had only until the following morning – is driving into the view of the Karagöz Mosque as we were looking for somewhere to park centrally. Though wonderful in its own right, it wasn’t the grandeur or historical significance that caught my attention. The minaret had collapsed. Some of the mosque was also damaged. A first reminder of the devastating earthquakes that hit the region a mere six months earlier.
Being a little farther from the epicentre, Gaziantep wasn’t the worst hit of cities. It also received a lot of immediate support. By the time we visited, very few buildings showed any sign of having been through multiple massive earthquakes at all. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for the city’s main monument and attraction.
Gaziantep Kalesi, a castle sitting atop a small hill, has been the focal point of this land since Hittite times. It was built by Romans near two millennia ago, and has since overseen expansions and renovations by subsequent landlords that include Byzantines, Ayyubids and Ottomans.
The main roads of modern-day Gaziantep circle the castle, giving a spectacular view – especially at night, when the castle was lit up by beautiful lighting. Now, much of it is damaged or collapsed. The hillsides have piled up with rubble. The near 2,000 year old castle’s collapse was one of the most striking images to come out of the earthquake zone in the first days, illustrating the scale of the disaster to anyone familiar with the city.
A tale of two markets
Though I wanted to see the impact of the earthquake with my own eyes, I wasn’t here for disaster tourism. The plan for the day was to walk the streets, enjoy the markets and – most of all – to eat as much and as widely as humanly possible.
Having started the day at an inhumane hour (for a writer not on a nine-to-five, at least), we were already getting hungry at this point, but anticipating the oncoming heat (the car’s temperature meter peaked at 46°C (115°F) later in the day), we decided to check out the local markets first, postponing lunch until it was time to go inside anyway.
First stop: Bakırcılar Çarşısı. The copper market.
The copper market
Copper’s been an important trade and occupation in Gaziantep for hundreds of years. In its heyday, these streets would be filled with the constant banging on metal from workshops making intricately decorated trays, bowls, jugs, coffee makers and much, much more. A few shops still operate in this way, though most have turned to retail, keeping their workshop elsewhere (or simply acting as middlemen between the craftsmen and customers). I love walking around markets like this, a breath of times forgotten when life moved at a very different pace. I did not feel inclined to open Instagram or check emails even once.
While I was tempted by a fish patterned antique tray, I didn’t buy anything. The market across the road pulled me in before I had the chance to make any such decision. Almacı Pazarı. The local market of gastronomy. As I already knew, and was about to see with my own eyes, pistachios are but the tip of the iceberg of local produce.
The gastronomy market
The stalls at the entrance leave no doubt about where we are in the world. Giant bunches of dried vegetables – among them aubergine (eggplant), courgette (zucchini), peppers, tomatoes and okra – decorate their ceilings. You’d be forgiven for thinking they’re pretty ornaments, but they’re used extensively for dolma in winter, when fresh vegetables weren’t available. Now, of course, they are, but dolmas made from dried vegetables remain a beloved signature dish of these parts of the country.
Underneath the dried vegetables, huge piles of vibrantly coloured spices call your name from every corner. Gaziantep, like neighbouring regions near the Syrian border, has long had strong trade and cultural links with Aleppo, which lies less than 100 km (60 miles) south. Road signs still show the way to Halep, the Turkish name for Aleppo. Much of the food culture is shared, not least when it comes to ingredients, which have been grown and used in abundance on either side of the Turkish/Syrian border since the border was arbitrarily drawn up by outsiders a century ago. As such, while Syrian food tastes foreign to most Turks (Turkish cuisine is generally quite gentle in flavour), that’s not so in this part of the country, where they have a heavier hand with spices and other pungent flavourings like pomegranate molasses and strong-flavoured herbs.
Pul biber: Aromatic chili flakes for all-round use
The vibrantly red chili flakes known in Turkey as pul biber, but as Aleppo pepper in much of the English speaking world, are everywhere. These chili flakes are made from a particularly aromatic type of red pepper, which has had its seeds removed, making the flakes as much fragrant and aromatic as spicy. Gaziantep is known as one of the premier producers of the stuff.
Unlike the packets you get in supermarkets, the pul biber here comes in a range of different varieties. Some are very mild, others crazy spicy (one was labelled “psychopath pepper”). Most are somewhere in between. Some have been oiled during the drying process, resulting in flakes that “bleed” beautifully when sprinkled onto yoghurt based sauces, for example. Most are salted, for preservation purposes, but how much varies. What’s more, it’s all still so fresh the flakes are still moist!
Pomegranate molasses: The liquid gold
In between the spices, many stalls line up cheap looking plastic bottles with home made labels on them. “Nar ekşisi”. Pomegranate molasses. Some of them highlight that it’s homemade (“ev yapımı”), but they really needn’t. If they haven’t bothered making even a semi professional looking label, it’s because the content doesn’t need it. This is the real stuff. 100% homemade pomegranate molasses, made the old fashioned way. The only thing that’s changed over the centuries is the storage vessel (I imagine they were quite a bit more classy before plastic took over).
Pomegranate molasses is used widely in the region, in salads (raw and cooked), but also in marinades, to flavour stews and in many other dishes. Delving into the depths of Gaziantep cuisine is also to delve into the many excellent ways of using pomegranate molasses.
Homemade tomato and pepper pastes
The front row, unusually invisible due to the mountains of spices behind, is reserved for a range of homemade pastes. There’s tomato paste, but also red pepper pastes in various versions.
These are widely used ingredients across Turkey, but this region uses more than the rest, upping the flavour of many dishes by a notch or two. You need only a tiny taste to understand why the buckets are so big: This is from another world compared to the commercial tomato pastes you get in the West. You can eat it as is, straight, with a spoon, and it’ll taste delicious. Pepper pastes, sweet or spicy, add depth of flavour when used in conjunction with tomato paste.
No wonder Turks don’t see a need for tinned chopped tomatoes. In winter, a selection of these pastes are all you need.
The green abundance of zahter
Most stalls also have huge trays of dried green herbs, with or without the label “zahter” on it. This is the local variety of the wild herb that is used to make the spice mix za’atar across the Middle East. The flavour is reminiscent of thyme, oregano or savory, but the texture’s more robust, closer to rosemary.
The various versions of this herb found across the Eastern Mediterranean are related, but not all of them are botanically identical (Turkey, and I imagine much of the Middle East, has an offhanded approach to such details, so you rarely know exactly what you’re getting). This is one of the reasons why za’atar mixtures vary in flavour according to their origin.
Gaziantep has its own za’atar mixtures, too, which differ from those found in Palestine, Lebanon or elsewhere. They usually contain a number of spices other than the herb, toasted sesame seeds and sumac, the three essential ingredients in a za’atar blend.
But what’s most interesting, to my mind, is the use of the herb itself. One of the most popular meze dishes in the area is a salad made from this herb, either fresh (when in season), pickled or reconstituted from dried, usually mixed with the region’s (small) green olives, more fresh herbs like flat-leaf parsley and copious amounts of pomegranate molasses and extra virgin olive oil. One of my favourites!
Next week: A first taste of true Gaziantep cuisine
This made for a very long newsletter already, and I still haven’t gotten to the food we ate! Part 2 with all about what we ate during our short stay in Gaziantep is coming your way next week.
Until then…
🔜 Coming Sunday for paying subscribers:
Marinated beetroot with feta cream & pistachios
I’m saving the traditional foods of Gaziantep for next week, but this week’s new recipe makes brilliant use of the ingredients from the area. Pomegranate molasses, sumac and pistachios are incredible tools to up the flavour of a seasonal vegetable in the northern hemisphere, the humble beetroot.
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Vidar