65 and sunny in Istanbul!
…makes for a lovely January day! This is not really normal weather for Istanbul this time of year, but hey I’m not complaining. It’s like spring! What a beautiful day. Here are some shots from our apartment of sunny Istanbul in January.
View from the North Balcony
View from Living Room
View from South Balcony (in our apt complex)
fuzzy eggs
To say that eggs here in Istanbul are fresh is an understatement. This was proven true to me today when I picked up some eggs at the grocery store only to find chicken feathers still on them when I opened the carton. Yes, fuzzy eggs. Another “you know you’re living in Turkey when…” moment.
Look at the right hand row — second and third from the top.
Hey, as long as they are OK on the inside, I don’t really care what’s on the outside. These are organic, by the way. :)
I need to comment on another egg-related thing here in Turkey. I want to know what’s up with “a dozen eggs”, or should I say lack thereof. Eggs here are bought in varying quantities. When you go to the egg section in the grocery store, you have options. Options is usually a good thing, but in the case of eggs I’ve found it a little frustrating, even confusing. At the store you can buy eggs in these quantities: 6, 8, 9, 10, 12, and then bulk (24+). What happened to a good ‘ol dozen and half dozen? Isn’t that why egg boxes in the fridge hold 12 eggs?
This just doesn’t make sense to my American mind.
me and my (raw) meat
Today was a big day. I had a major personal breakthrough this evening. Yes, that’s right, I touched raw meat. Actually, let me clarify – I did not just touch raw meat, but I touched it and was OK with it. In fact, I made MEATBALLS with it! And to boot (and not to toot my own horn here but…), the meatballs were pretty darn good. I may be biased, yes, but this was backed up by my hubby who is a pretty good food critic, in my opinion.
In all of my eleven years of cooking on my own, this was the first time that I was able to actually take raw meat and form it into some shape with my hands. See, I’ve made my fair share of hamburgers and meatballs and meatloafs before, but all with the helps of plastic gloves, plastic baggies, or plastic utensils. So today marked a day in history for me and my meat, raw meat that is.
Here’s the little guys cooking away…
And the table is all set… minus the garlic bread which I forgot in the oven.
And my hubbs all ready to eat! Bon appétit!
smoked out by a hookah
Not long after we moved here I learned to stop saying “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You see, for all of the things that are surprising and different to me (and trust me, there are a lot), I’ve come to take them as just that — surprising and different. You have to, because after a while, those sweet surprises and distinct differences become part of your new life, your new world, and sometimes even your new you. But today I experienced something that deserves, and will forever deserve, a “You gotta be kidding me.”
Today we got smoked out of our apartment by our neighbor… because she was apparently chain-smoking her hooka.
photo credit socialsmoke.com
Yes, that’s right… chain-smoking her hookah. Wikipedia defines hookah (or nargile in Turkish) as “a single or multi-stemmed (often glass-based) water pipe for smoking. Originally from India, the hookah has gained immense popularity, especially in the middle east. A hookah operates by water filtration and indirect heat. It can be used for smoking herbal fruits, tobacco, or cannabis.”
I can tell you this woman was not smoking any herbal fruits. And one can only imagine just how much hookah this woman actually smoked in order for every room of our apartment to be filled with the pungent, hippie-gone-bad smoke reminiscent of truck exhaust.
I want you to really experience this with me. Imagine for a second that you wave your hand through a room of smoke and the trail of moving air that your hand makes can be seen. You think your apartment is on fire, but nothing is burning. And no matter where you look you can’t find the manure-dunked hunk of rubber that must be smoldering somewhere. Well that was our entire apartment today. Yes, this deserves a “You gotta be kidding me.”
One can only assume what was really going on downstairs today.
Could it be that she was having a smoke-off with her 8 year old son and housekeeper? Unlikely, but I’m not ruling it out (I told you I’m not surprised by anything anymore). Maybe she had some soothsayer or clairvoyant over and she was getting her cards read in some sacred tarot ritual. Possibly. Or maybe she was having a hookah party? Seems the most logical, but no, it’s 4pm on Wednesday. I mean there is no way that one woman, no matter how big your lungs are, could produce that much smoke. But nonetheless, she did.
So this story ends with we had people over here thinking they had to put out a fire. And I’m pretty sure that for at least one of them, this was a “You gotta be kidding me” moment for them, too.
P.O.S… R.I.P.
If you will allow me to vent for a sec. I need to ask a simple question. Why are all of my Turkish kitchen appliances pieces of shit? Seriously, I need to know. I have yet to come across a kitchen appliance that doesn’t break after using it one time. Let me see… oh yes first to go was the blender. Oh wait, let me clarify – that didn’t work when we plugged it in. Second to go was my beloved popcorn maker. If you know me, to say that I love popcorn is an understatement. So when I had to part with my two favorite air-poppers for obvious electric voltage reasons when we moved, you can understand how upset I was to be without one for a while. And low and behold the P.O.S. broke the second time we used it. Motor burnt. And it smelled bad. Definitely not like popcorn.
After that was the friggin mixer. Now tell me how I’m supposed to make cookies or good mashed potatoes without a mixer. I mean come on folks. Annoying. That one burnt out on the first use – and let me note the total usage time totaled oh about 45 seconds. Yeah. What else? Our tea maker fizzled on us one day, but it got revived from the dead somehow. So it’s still kickin but deserves a mention here, although I will note that it is now considered a fire hazard. And today our “robot” (as it’s called in Turkish), which is the do-everything chopper/mixer/blender/puree-er/processer/soup-er/etc, bit the dust. I just don’t get it. I mean this guy almost got thrown over the side of the balcony afterwards. Robot and I definitely had it out before this one finally took it’s last breath.
So I just want to know why. Why oh why do all of my Turkish kitchen appliances SUCK? Is it me? In four months five appliances don’t make it to the second use. I can’t believe it’s me or my luck. Somebody please send me some good-kitchen-appliance-vibes! Please! The only thing that has saved me is our toaster that we use religiously every day and has worked just fine (Arzum brand, may I note) and this hand mixer thing-a-ma-jig that you can make smoothies with, blend soup in the pot, chop stuff, etc. It has a tiny little blade but packs a lot of punch, let me tell you. Props to the people at Braun. I hug that little guy every time before I put him back up on the shelf. Ok now you think I’m losing it.
Thanks for listening to me vent… if anyone is listening.
jet. lag. sucks.
…period. Here it is, 4am, and I’m still awake. I’m kicking myself for not doing the 16hr fasting trick that worked last time. But my mother in law had prepared a surprise for us when we got home from our trip to the states – we walk into the apartment only to find a kitchen filled with home cooked Turkish food and the dining room table set for two for lunch. And it was all of my favorite dishes. There was no way I could say to myself “nah, I’m going to fast for another 7 hours so that I get my body on track”. So we ate. And it was lovely. And now I am sitting here awake at 4am by myself bored out of my mind. I think I’ll go watch some Gossip Girl on watchtvsitcoms.com. Do you know this site? If not, I highly recommend – it is fantastic. Goodbye for now and Happy New Year!
