Turkish Archives - BitterSweet

Some people judge the credibility of a Mediterranean restaurant by its falafel. Others decide its merits based on the hummus. Personally, I decide whether or not its worth a revisit after trying the soup.

Lentil soup, Turkish lentil soup, red lentil soup; whatever subtle variant it goes by on the menu, it should be relatively the same thing: a hot stew redolent of cumin and coriander, onions and garlic, made from red lentils stewed so hard that they simply give up on their corporeal form. There’s no blending needed to create the moderately thick, naturally creamy texture. Hopefully, a small wedge of lemon will come on the side for that final punch of acid, if the kitchen really knows what they’re doing.

Does anyone else order it? Rarely does it seem to grace the tables, other than my own. I don’t care if its made weeks or days or even months in advance, preserved in an icy tomb of a freezer, so long as it comes out steaming and comforting as ever. Yes, it’s simple, as the most difficult dishes are. There’s nowhere to hide mistakes.

I crave it terribly, all year round, despite the equally terrible heat bearing down most of the year. Typically it’s worth the pain (and sweat), but there’s no need to suffer. I’ve recently started taking the matter into my own hands, translating those essential elements into a chilled salad format. Best of all, this rendition cuts the cooking time down into almost nothing, since red lentils soften at the drop of a hat. In fact, that becomes the biggest challenge when you flip the script; instead of simmering them into nothingness, it takes greater finesse to cook them so lightly, that they remain intact.

Sure, I’ll fancy it up a bit with more substantial, forkable vegetables, like a genuine bean salad should be, while staying true to its roots. In the winter, it would be wonderful to take those same tomatoes, bell peppers, and swap in diced carrots, roast them, and serve the whole thing warm instead. That’s an idea to file away for now, as the heat rages on. These days, it’s an absolute delight tucked inside tender pita bread, wrapped up in lavash, or simply served in a generous bowl, always thoroughly chilled.

Yes, soup season is eternal, but so is salad season. There’s no reason why we can’t have both.

Continue reading “Lentils, Through a Different Lens” →

Eggplant is one of those ingredients that I love eating, but forget about for long stretches at a time. Invariable, I’ll see it pop up on a menu or food blog, vow to cook it more often, and then… Forget again. Forever relegated to the bottom of the produce bin, the last call at the farmers market, eggplant will never be the next viral trend. After considering my own eggplant negligence, I’m finding it’s more of a cultural disconnect than lack of culinary potential. Look no further than the Mediterranean countries to see the difference.

Turkish Delights

Though not native to Turkey, eggplants have been the guest of honor on Turkish tables for centuries. This isn’t just conjecture; 16th century Ottoman cookbooks boast over 140 eggplant recipes. That’s to say nothing of what home cooks may have adapted and improvised. Unlike the ubiquitous globe eggplants common in the US, Turkish eggplants are smaller and come in various colors, from lilac to deep purple. There are even white and baby green varieties. Less bitter than the seedy, bulbous giants we’re accustomed to here, they don’t need extensive salting, soaking, or additional prep. With fewer barriers to entry, it made me realize that perhaps my mental block is simply due to using the wrong type of eggplant all this time.

Get Stuffed with Karniyarik

“Karnıyarık” translates to “split belly” in Turkish, describing the way the eggplants are sliced open to create an accommodating boat for a savory stuffing. Traditionally deep fried and then baked, I see no need for all that oil—and heat—when twice-baked baby eggplants are every bit as luscious and tender. Starting with a classic sofrito, ground beef or lamb is typically the focal point for the simple stuffing, but I happen to think that Sugimoto Shiitakes beat that kind of meat any day. Gently simmered with seasoned lentils, it’s the kind of dish that will put eggplant back on the map, especially for plant-based people.

Karniyarik Vs. Imam Bayildi

Traditionalist would be up in arms, racing to argue that this is not karniyarik at all, but in fact, imam bayildi. They’re not entirely wrong; the latter is the historically vegan version, made without meat. However, I think of my rendition more as the former, since I wanted to replicate that same rich, hearty eating experience with homemade plant-based ground meat. Sugimoto Shiitake stems are the secret to creating that beefy texture and deeply umami flavor. Never toss the stems! They’re even chewier than the caps, which makes them such an ideal fit for making meatless grounds.

Love Your Leftovers

There will be a generous amount of filling leftover; that’s an asset, not a flaw! Consider it your next meal waiting to happen, since it’s ideal for stuffing any variety of fresh vegetables, such as:

Bell peppers
Tomatoes
Cabbage rolls

Or, using as a filling or topper for:

Burritos
Tacos
Salads
Rice bowls

That’s not all! If you add a binder like breadcrumbs and ground flaxseeds, this humble mixture can be transformed into:

Naturally, it’s fabulous as part of any dinner plate, acting as a complete entree or side dish, too.

Karniyarik: A Staple of Summer

Beautiful baby eggplants aren’t available all year round, unlike their oversized brethren. While you could always make this recipe with halved globe eggplants, the experience isn’t the same. As summer harvests reach their peak, now is the time to try something new. In fact, you could always bake karniyarik well in advance and then freeze it to enjoy a taste of summer anytime you want. Whatever you do, don’t make my same mistake: Cook more eggplant, now and often!

Continue reading “Eat More Eggplant” →