My Kitchen

My new kitchen is a joy to work in. It is much smaller than what I am used to, but what it lacks in size it makes up for in efficiency. I am most impressed with the sink area. It is comprised of a wash up sink, a produce sink and a drainboard, all of stainless steel, and taking up less room than width of the new sink I had installed in my Houston kitchen, just before I left. There are two deep drawers underneath the sink. The first one glides out to contain all the cleaning agents, sponges and cloths one needs at ones fingertips. Within the second drawer is the garbage/recycling area. There are two small stainless steel garbage cans there, one for refuse and one for recycling. A metal bottle rack is there to hold empty wine bottles upright.

The sink area is on the long wall, along with the cooktop. The counter top is granite, and oddly enough, it is exactly the same granite I just had installed in my kitchen back home. I love it-- Messes are easily camouflaged and you never see the water marks, left by damp sponges. The cooktop has 3 gas burners, small, medium and large, plus an electric burner! Great for simmering, as you don't have to worry about the flame going out.

The opposite wall holds the wall oven and the refrigerator. The refrigerator is small, but when you live in a country that sells milk in quart bottles, you don't need a big one. I am still learning how to use the oven. The temperature is in celcius, which takes some getting used to. And I abhor the digital clock, as it gives you the time in military fashion. I am fine in the mornings, up till 12:59--then suddenly it's 13:00. I am lost all afternoon, even though I have been told to "look at the clock and subtract 12". Seeing a clock read 20:30 just doesn't feel like 8:30.

The kitchen is large enough to contain a breakfast table for the three of us. I don't remember ever living in a house that had a kitchen table. The first week I was here, for the sake of propriety, we ate in the dining room. One night, on a whim, I sat us at the kitchen table, and we've never gone back to the dining room. It's pretty cosy in the kitchen, and cleanup is a snap, since we are literally two steps away from the sink/dishwasher.

The only improvement I would suggest that would make this kitchen perfect, would be when I have hot water coming out of the faucet. And I will definitely be blogging when that red letter day arives!                  

Hot Water

In early June, as the first days of summer were hitting the triple digits in Houston, we suddenly found ourselves without hot water. It seems that our attic gets so intensely hot, that the gas flame of the hot water heater extinguishes itself as a safety precaution. It is possible to re-light it, but involves a tortuous process of climbing rickety attic stairs, maneuvering a maze of old boxes and suitcases in dim light, then holding down certain buttons in a certain pattern while counting to 60. But as if that were not daunting enough, we each had a deep and abiding fear of doing something wrong and thereby blowing the house and ourselves to bits. So we lived all summer with cool showers. (Houston's heat prevent us from ever really having cold water). As Devlin and I left Houston last week, my guilt at leaving Emily to her cool showers were tempered by my glee at knowing that hot ones would soon be in my future.

Well, Life has nothing , if not a sense of humor.. I am still in search of a hot shower. The water heater has been on the fritz ever since I arrived. At first it wasn't too bad. The water would run hot for about 8 seconds, then suddenly cool down for 8 seconds. Once I got the rhythm down, I knew when to step out from under the incoming cool droplets, and when to step back in. Not perfect, but better than what I'd been living with in Houston. However, yesterday we awoke to no hot water at all.

Luckily, there is one gentleman in the front office who speaks English. I explained the dilemma and he was responsive, promising to send a "friend" to check on it that very afternoon. The friend arrived late in the afternoon; his English was limited. My Turkish is even more limited. As he began to tinker with the water heater, he looked at me confidently and proclaimed, "No problem!" I had my doubts. I may not speak Turkish, but I have learned a bit about water heaters this sumer. I turned on the faucet, to check the temperature, and indeed, no hot water. Not even warm. He tinkered some more, and announces rather impatiently this time, "No Problem". We recheck the water. Still cold. Through hand signals & gestures I realize he needs a screwdriver, and I start looking for one. In an apartment 3 weeks old, we haven't accrued many tools, but luck is with me, and I find one. As he tears into the job, I relocate myself to the living room, to await the news. Not ten minutes later, he comes in, head shaking and use his remaining english vocabulary to announce: "Big Problem". He shows me a leak dripping water from some pipe, then points to the temperature gauge, giving a finger motion that goes in reverse. He validates what I already knew--we have no hot water.

A three way phone conversation between he, I and the English speaking apartment manager lets me know that it will be tomorrow before it can be fixed.

Jim grumbled at bit this morning at his 2nd day of cold showers. I nodded sympathetically, but a bratty kid voice inside my head said "Oh come on, we've gone all summer without hot showers!" Devlin didn't say anything, but then, he's probably not had enough time to get used to hot showers.

I am nothing if not optimistic. I am confident that if they said someone will come today, someone will come. It's only 1:00 in the afternoon. There is still plenty of time for a serviceman to show up. It's the 21st century, hot water should be a non- issue. And all the while, I imagine just how good that hot shower will feel.

Shop Till You Drop

Our first outing as tourists was a trip to the Grand Bazaar yesterday. "Grand" is an understatement. Over 4,000 shops are contained within its narrow, labyrinth like streets. 4,000 shops! To put that in some kind of perspective, the Galleria in Houston contains just 375, and I can't cover that in day. It really is the world's first shopping mall, for it began as a market during the Byzantine era, continued to grow through the Ottoman empire, until it eventually was roofed and walled in. At night, it was locked down and guarded by over 100 soldiers, much like medieval castles. I read somewhere that it is visited by over 15,000 people in the course of a day. I think all 15,000 were there Saturday morning.

If you can't find it at the bazaar, I don't believe it is made. Jewelry, carpets, textiles, copper, icons, coins, daggers, musical instruments, soaps, antiques, leather and even underwear! And all can be had for whatever price you bargain. Now there's the rub. Haggling is an art, and not one at which I have ever been any good. I know that the merchandise is marked up, and that you are supposed to offer half of the asking price, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I walked by shops and stalls without touching a thing or even making eye contact with any salesman for fear I would have to begin negotiations.

Finally, I got brave enough to actually pick up a shawl. Immediately the shop owner was there, pulling out several others and displaying them for my viewing pleasure. "22 lira for the large shawl, Madam; 18 for the small."  I stood there, speechless, knowing I should offer 12 or 14, but unable to get the words out of my mouth. He took pity on me, and said, "Madam, since you are the first customer of the day, I will let you have it for 20."  Now I'm mortified, because I realize that he is actually doing my bargaining for me. I find my voice and say "18!" And of course, it's a deal.

I'm delighted with my shawl. It's probably made in China, but will look dashing on my dining room table. I think the exchange rate is something like 1.50 lira to $1.00 American, so I think that means I paid about $12.00, which is a bargain in my book. Maybe the next time I do this, I will stiffen my spine and start a little lower.

Eating Local

Shopping at the Spice Market 

Change your culture and you will change your diet. Happily, I enjoy eating fresh vegetables and fruits, good cheeses, and whole grain breads. In fact, I thought that was what I was eating back home in Houston. Not really. I am amazed at how different a fresh peach, tomato or strawberry tastes over here. I don't know if it is the soil, the sun, or the lack of fertilizers and pesticides that make the difference, but I'm savoring every morsel.

I made ratatouille for dinner last night. It was a simple vegetable stew, made with zucchini, eggplant, onions, tomatoes, peppers, garlic and olive oil, served over penne pasta. It was absolutely delicious, and I'm looking forward to enjoying the leftovers at lunch. The tomatoes here are perfectly plump, perfectly red and actually have flavor and texture. I was inspired to make bruschetta a couple of nights ago, and am looking for a reason to make it again soon. Peaches are now in season, and are the size of softballs. But better than that, they taste like the peaches I ate as a child--so incredibly sweet and juicy that one is content to eat it in its natural state, instead of tarting it up into a cobbler or pie.

Prices for local produce are reasonable-at least by my reckoning of the exchange rate. I picked up a large package of fresh, white mushrooms--enough for two meals--and paid approximately $2.00. Meat is another matter. A pound of ground beef ran me about $12.00. Turkish wines are quite good, but a little pricey, starting at at $12.00 a bottle. However, an imported bottle of Yellow Tail Shiraz will set us back $30.00, so we are definitely drinking the local stuff.

With produce this good, I am inspired to use it as the basis of my meal planning instead of resigning them to the sidelines. Below is the Ratatouille recipe I used, courtesy of Jacques Pepin

Ratatouille

1 eggplant (about 10 oz), chopped into 1 inch pieces

2 small zucchini, 3/4 inch pieces

2 Italian peppers, seeded and cut into 1 inch pieces

2 cups chopped onions

1 can diced tomatoes

1 cup mushrooms, quartered (my addition)

2 tsp salt

1/4 cup olive oil.

Put all ingredients into a large sauce pan and bring to a boil over high heat. Mix well, reduce the heat to low, cover and cook gently for 30 minutes. If the mixture still has a lot of liquid, reduce it by boiling, uncovered, for 3 -4 minutes. Cool to room temperature. Season to taste. ( I added Tony Chacheres Creole seasoning, as well as some chopped basil) Mix in cooked penne pasta, and serve at room temperature. Garnish with additional grated parmesan cheese and kalamata olives.

Dreaming

Istinye Park Apartments

As I am enjoying the early morning sun on the balcony this morning, I realized that there is nothing I have to do today. No appointments, no errands, no phone calls to make. Tidying the apartment and making dinner this evening is about as strenuous as it will get. Would I like a steady diet of such nothingness? No. However, I am enjoying the calm before the storm. This is the last week of summer vacation. Devlin will start school on Monday, which will bring a stream of new acquaintances, experiences, as well as a much needed routine to our days.

Because I have no idea what lies ahead, life seems full of possibilities. I just peeked at an Istanbul city guide for expats, and next week I could attend a ballet, go to a concert at Topkapi Palace, or see an artists exhibition at Taksim square. School meetings will begin to fill my days. Ex-pat organizations, such as the American Women's Club and the International Women's Club will start up shortly. At the moment, I am content to just know that these things lie around the corner. Soon, I will have to make the first steps to get involved. Right now, I am happy to just know the opportunities are there.

Right now, I am listening to water splashing in the fountain below, and the high pitched whine of a motor bike in the distance. The sky is a serene blue, with just a few whispy white clouds for interest. My neighbor's balcony is ablaze with window boxes containing pink, white and red geraniums. The breeze is lightly ruffling the tree branches.

It is the last week of summer, and I am content to sit and dream.

In Which We Begin

Walking along the Bosphorus

We have been here four days now, and the jet lag is behind us, thank goodness. Today we had our first real outing, a long walk along the Bosphorus waterfront. It was a lovely summer afternoon, probably in the mid 80's, with a soft breeze to keep one cool. There was a wide concrete pathway along the sea, from which people were fishing, strolling, and jumping in to enjoy the water. Swimmers were bobbing along in the salt water as cruise boats steamed by loaded with sightseers. The fishermen were using oysters as bait, and the fish they were catching were about a finger length in size. It would take quite a few to make a good meal.

The waterfront was loaded with restaurants; the biggest decision was which one to select. We chose one based on two criteria; the name was pronouncable, and it displayed a gold seal with the word "tourism" on it, which I interpreted to mean that it was tourist board certified. I have no idea whether or not that is correct, but the thought gave me comfort.

Eating out can present some challenges when the menu is not in a language one understands. I decided to be adventurous and order the "special Kofti", a dish I didn't recognize, but was pretty sure was ground beef. Devlin and Jim figured they would play it safe and ordered the "special kebab".

I laughed when the orders came. Mine was delightful! A spiced ground beef patty, topped with cooked spinach and cheese, potato wedges and a side salad of chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, corn and herbs. Jim and Devlin on the other hand, were given bowls of plain yougurt topped with beef strips. And neither of them like yougurt. I swear, I offered to trade mine for one of theirs, but thankfully, they declined my offer. I did leave some of my fries for Devlin, but devoured the rest of it, as it was so good. I tried a bite of the "special kabab", and it wasn't bad at all--just different--kind of like making beef stroganoff and forgetting the beef stock.

I think we will go to the mall today and buy a English/Turkish dictionary.