Verdant Hills & Rushing Springs

There are countless towns and villages in Turkey with a green hilltop named “Hıdır Tepesi,” which can be translated as the “Hill of Hıdır;” in reality it means “The Verdant Hill.” 

Hıdır, or Hıdr, comes from the Arabic word for green. There is virtually no difference between Hıdır, Hidr and Hizir in Arabic, for d and z are at times interchangeable. “Hıdırlık” is a short term for greenery or any open grassy land fit to serve as a playground for children or place to picnic. It also has a connection to Hızır (or Hıdr/Hıdır), a saintly person who appears unexpectedly for people in need, hence the term “Hızır gibi yetişmek (To come to somebody’s rescue like Hızır). Hızır is an immortal man who has drunk the water of life from the spring of immortality. Hıdrellez, the ultimate spring festival celebrated on the night of May 5 and the day of May 6th, also gets its name from the same word, or rather, the same saintly figure.

Hızır is a figure of great controversy. All agree the he is invisible and let’s himself be seen only when necessary. He appears and disappears at an instant. He is, in a way, like a spring that suddenly comes after a never-ending winter, just like this year. He is the one who is identified with greenness and water springs.
 There are some who associate the name also with Hydra, related to water. He is also believed to be the same person as St. George, another saintly green man in Christian culture. St. George is from the heart of Anatolia, from Cappadocia, with a Middle Eastern ancestry. In a way, it is normal to consider Hıdır St. George; usually, holy figures are swapped in between religions in this geography all the time.

As said, his sudden appearance, often in disguise of a beggar, or an elderly passerby, gives



a certain suspicion to his real personality. He will be there to guide you to the path to truth whenever necessary. If you treat him rightly, you’ll be rewarded with abundance and plenty. He’ll make your wishes come true, provided that you welcome him with a warm reception. Maybe it is the strong belief in his existence that lies beneath the unmatched Anatolian hospitality. It may be that all the peoples of this land dread the thought of missing an opportunity to meet the mighty and generous green man. That would be equal the skipping the chance of a lifetime, as he is believed to appear only once in a lifetime of a person.

But where is he and who is he? You’ll never know, at least not at the moment you see him. You can only realize that you’ve just encountered his existence after he disappears to an unknown destiny, never to come back again. He is omnipresent, yet invisible. Some say he only touches your faith when you’re truly and desperately in need. There is one condition: you have to be a completely honest and pure person. The integrity of oneself is the key to receive his blessing.

In some depictions, Hıdır wears a green coat or cloak. It is the same for hilltops named after him. These hilltops are probably at their greenest at Hıdrellez, the time to go out and celebrate nature. Hıdrellez also marks the only day when Hıdır meets Elias, his long lost pal. Elias (Elijah), or Ilyas in Turkish, is another saintly figure who represents the sea. Hıdır, the greenery (also meaning for the earth) meets the water, let it be the sea, lake, or rivers, on this particular day. The day of Hıdrellez gets its name from Hıdır and Elias; it is the day for the reunion of opposites, the marriage of the land and the sea.

As it signifies the time to wait for the verdant one, Hıdrellez is mostly about having fun. Feasting alfresco is its core, most often accompanied with music and dancing. Celebrating through the night of May 5th is almost obligatory, as one wishes lay underneath a rose tree or set sail on the waterfront at the crack of dawn. The night is spent dancing and jumping over bonfires in a camping spirit. Young girls wait for the love of their life to appear like Hızır, write down wishes for a happy future and secretly bury them under rose trees. If there is a waterside nearby, or rushing springs, all wishful youth will end the night there, watching the rise of the sun.

One never knows one’s own destiny; he (Hıdır or Hızır or the love of one’s life) might come at the most unexpected moment… Hıdrellez is mostly about mankind’s naivety of good will, so let’s not lose hope on nature and start celebrating spring (finally) with the greenest of spring tastes.

Credit: Aylin Öney Tan  

Thistle fit for the throne

Owning a grand, impressive and imposing posture and a stately manner, the artichoke definitely has royal qualities. Totally dignified, the artichoke stands alone erecting its head as if to reach the sky. The artichoke plant is actually a thistle; a thistle that has transformed itself into the king of vegetables. Each artichoke plant seems to have sovereignty over a small territory, a mere meter diameter of land, with only one big artichoke growing in the center, the head artichoke which I like to call the king. Actually, each plant bears a few more artichokes, 6 to 12 in total, but most are pruned off to give power to the remaining few. In the field, that one big artichoke, the king, is flanked by a few smaller buds, like little princes waiting patiently for their time on the throne. A field of artichokes resembles medieval Europe, with each little kingdom guarding its own little patch of territory, each king artichoke marking its place proudly. Regal by all means, the artichoke is considered one of the most luxurious vegetables. It’s like a rags-to-riches story. Once a wild growing thistle, the artichoke is a descendent of the cardoon, the savage beauty of the Mediterranean terrain. It was first cultivated in the early Middle Ages by the Arab agronomists from the wild cardoon to the global artichoke, as we know today; in a way, like magic alchemy turning an awkward wild plant into festive golden taste. 
The artichoke we savor is actually the bud of the flower of the plant and what appears like a single big bulbous flower is actually a zillion flowerets all crowded on a saucer-like flowerbed, which we consume as the bottom artichoke. What makes the artichoke so luxurious is this ridiculously small yield of taste compared to the huge plant that grows to a height of 1.5-2 meters, spreading its leaves to an equal length of diameter. But it is also the taste that is unique; laced with unmatched finesse, containing a hint of bitterness contrasting with a fresh sweetness. The taste is an ultimately subtle yet complex flavor, best brought out with simple cooking techniques like boiling, braising or roasting. The virtue of the artichoke lies in this simplicity that can create so much finesse from so little. The artichoke has the capacity to make any dish fit for the throne. One outstanding fact about its history really does have an acquaintance with crowns. Marilyn Monroe, then an unknown starlet named Norma Jean, was crowned MissCalifornia Artichoke Queen in 1948, in Castraville, California. This crowning began her climb up the stairs to becoming the queen of stars of all ages. As I said, there is something magically regal about the once-thistle crown-like globe that truly belongs on the throne. 

Recipe of the Week
Whole fried artichokes appear like a golden crown adorning your plate and taste like jewels sparkling in your palate. Use very young, tender artichokes with the chokes still not developed. Snip the tips of the outer leaves if tough, if very tender leave them. Cut the stems off and smash each artichoke on the back so that the outer leaves open out like a sunflower. Remove any chokes or spiky inner leaves with a spoon or short paring knife. Fry in plenty of olive oil until golden-bronze. Drain excess oil putting fried artichokes heads down on paper towels. Sprinkle with salt and enjoy crispy leaves like chips, reserving the softened bottom for the triumphal final taste. 

Event of the Week
This week is a festive opportunity to celebrate artichokes. The “1st International Artichoke Festival” is having its kick start in Urla May 2-3, co-organized by the İzmir Metropolitan Municipality, the Urla Municipality, the İzmir University of Economics-Department of Culinary Arts and Management and last by not least volunteers and devotees of Urla. The town of Urla, ancient Vourlá, only 35 kilometers south of central İzmir, is the epicenter of artichoke production extending to the west along Karaburun Peninsula. The festival will tackle all aspects of the regal artichoke, from traditional cooking methods to modern chef interpretations, from health benefits to medicinal uses, from flavor and taste to pleasures of eye and artifice. There will be a series of events,check the website. I suggest you just drive in to find out what’s happening and you’ll be rewarded with the royal taste of the best of the best artichokes. 

Fork of the Week 
Another taste of Urla was recently crowned with a silver trophy in Italy. Olivurla, the sublime olive oil produced by Pelin Omuroğlu Balcıoğlu, won the silver medal in the BIOL 20th International Prize for organic olive oil. Pelin is the princess of olive groves in Urla, but her products from Ayerya Organic Farm have a wide range; her award-winning produce is available in fine delicatessens and stores like Eataly in Istanbul.

Cork of the Week
Normally, artichokes are very hard to match with wine as they contain cynarine, which creates an odd sweetish taste on the tongue when followed by water and turns bitter if followed by wine. I love both wine and artichokes, so I usually have a steely dry white with my royal globe and enjoy the sweetish bitterness on my tongue. Urla is also a great destination for wine lovers. The region, with a unique microclimate created by cool breezes from the sea, also offers a few of the best corks of Turkey. The recent boutique wineries sprouting up in Urla are like little princedoms, each hiding their own treasures in their wine cellars. It all started with Urla Winery and Urlice, followed by the USCA, MMG and Mozaik wineries, and all five wineries are now taking the lead in a project titled Urla Bağ Rotası/Urla Wine Route, soon to be joined by other wineries. Follow them and be the first ones to discover the lovely wines of Urla.

 Credit: AYLİN ÖNEY TAN 

Mysterious golden ball

My napkin was gently folded like a bundle. As I cradled it in my palms I felt the warmth inside. It was as if it were still sizzling in deep oil. As I unfolded the layers of linen, I noticed that my golden fried ball was slightly pointed on one end. That made me curious about the cook; it was surely a clue about his home country. 

The folded napkin surprise was a complimentary gesture by Sebastiano Spriveri, chef at the Four Seasons Bosphorus, Istanbul. I knew that he was of Sicilian origin, but the particular shape of that wonderful fried rice ball was telling me that he must be from southern or eastern Sicily. Fried rice balls are called arancini, coming from arancia, the word for orange in Italian, meaning little oranges. They are mostly a bar snack though sometimes also sold in street festivals and are mostly enjoyed freshly fried, piping hot and roughly wrapped in a piece of paper. Practically, they are rice croquettes, usually made from leftover risotto, filled with a choice stuffing. The inside is soft with a rich meat ragù or molten lava-like melting cheese, wonderfully contrasting the crisp outside. They do resemble little oranges, getting their bright orange color from golden frying and the bright yellow of saffron risotto. 

If they have a mozzarella filling, when you split the ball in half, the cheese tends to form long oozing threads between the semi-spheres of the ball, making it look like old-fashioned corded candlestick telephones. They are then called supplì al telefono, a name preferred in Rome. Either as Roman supplì or Sicilian arancini, they are very Italian, but there is a mystery connected to their history. They are close relatives with our “içli köfte,” stuffed meatballs, sharing the same ancestry and the same concept: a stuffing encased within a grain-based outer shell. In our case, the stuffing is more abundant, meatier and saucier, with a much thinner and crispier bulgur shell; whereas in the Italian version, the stuffing is lesser, the rice section thicker and softer, with the crispness only achieved by the bread crumb coating. However, the idea is the same and they are both related to Middle Eastern kibbeh. When one travels more east and south in Sicily, the arancini are no longer orange shaped, but pointed at one end, drastically looking like their Middle Eastern cousins. Actually, they are said to have originated under the Arab influence dating back to the 10th century. Over the centuries they became a part of the Sicilian identity, so much so that they were even featured in Sicilian literature, as the favorite savory snack of the island.

The last of the mystery stories of inspector Montalbano by the famous Sicilian writer Andrea Camilleri is titled “Gli Arancini di Montalbano” (“Montalbano’s Croquettes”), which gives a very long description of how to make the perfect arancini. The inspector is known for having a soft spot for good traditional Sicilian food; in particular, he cannot resist the homemade arancini of his housekeeper, Adelina Cirrinciò. However, her sublime croquettes require two days to make. First, a risotto is made and left to cool, later to be mixed with parmesan and raw eggs. For the filling, a ragù of equal parts pork and veal is slow cooked with onions and tomatoes, plus diced celery, carrots, parsley and basil. A béchamel sauce is also made to bind the filling together. Lastly, young tender peas are boiled to be added to the filling. Meanwhile, the inspector is entangled in problems related with Adelina’s two sons, who were just released from jail and got in trouble again. The making process of the golden fried balls is as exciting (if not more) as the mystery the inspector tries to solve.  

Munching my golden “arancino,” I kept remembering the mysteries of the legendary inspector Montalbano. Inspired by him, I solved my own little mystery, hinted at in the shape of my croquette. I was right; Chef Spriveri was from Noto in the most southeastern corner of Sicily!

Credit : Aylin Öney Tan